JEALOUSY.
Mr. Graham's country-house boasted a fine, old fashioned entry, with a
door at either end, both of which usually stood open during the warm
weather, admitting a current of air, and rendering the neighbourhood of
the front entrance a favourite resort of the family, during the early
hours of the day, when the sun had no access to the spot. Here, on a
pleasant June morning, Isabel Clinton and her cousin, Kitty Ray, had
made themselves comfortable.
Isabel had drawn a large arm-chair close to the door-sill, ensconced
herself in it, and was gazing idly down the road. She was a beautiful
girl, tall and well-formed, with a delicate complexion, clear blue eyes,
and rich, light, flowing curls. The same lovely child, whom Gertrude had
gazed upon with rapture, as, leaning against the window of her father's
house, she once watched old True while he lit his lamp, had ripened into
an equally lovely woman. At an early age deprived of her mother, and
left for some years to the care of servants, she soon learned to
appreciate, at more than their true value, her outward attractions; and
her aunt, under whose tutelage she had been since she left school, did
not counteract this undue self-admiration. An appearance of conscious
superiority which distinguished her, and her independent air, might be
attributed to her conviction that Belle Clinton, the beauty and the
heiress, attired in a blue cashmere morning-dress, richly embroidered,
and open in front, for the purpose of displaying an equally rich
flounced cambric petticoat.
On a low step at her feet sat Kitty Ray, a complete contrast to her
cousin in looks, manners and many points of character. She was a sweet
little creature, lively, playful, and affectionate. She was so small
that her childish manners became her; so full of spirits that her
occasional rudeness claimed pardon on that score; and for all other
faults her warm-heartedness and generous enthusiasm must plead an excuse
to one who wished to love her as she wished and expected to be loved by
everybody. She was a pretty girl, always bright and animated, mirthful
and happy; fond of her cousin Belle, and sometimes influenced by her,
though often enlisting on the opposite side of some contested question.
Unlike Belle, she was seldom well dressed, for she was very careless. On
the present occasion her dark silk wrapper was half-concealed by a
crimson flannel sack, which she held tightly around her, for she said it
was a chilly morning, and she was half-frozen to death--she certainly
would go and warm herself at the kitchen fire, if she did not fear
encountering that _she-dragon_, Mrs. Ellis; she was sure she did not
see, if they must sit in the doorway, why Belle couldn't come to the
side-door, where the sun shone beautifully. "O, I forgot, though," added
she; "her complexion!"
"Complexion!" said Belle; "I'm no more afraid of hurting my complexion
than you are; I never freckle, or tan either."
"But you burn all up, and look like a fright."
"Well, if I didn't, I shouldn't go there to sit; I like to be at the
front of the house, where I can see the passing. I wonder who those
people are coming up the road."
Kitty stood up, and looked as Belle pointed. After observing the
approaching couple for a minute or two she exclaimed, "Why, that's
Gertrude Flint! I wonder where she's been! And who can that be with
her? I didn't know there was a beau to be had about here."
"Beau!" said Belle, sneeringly.
"And why not a beau, Cousin Belle? I'm sure he looks like one."
"I wouldn't give much for any of her beaux!" said Belle.
"Wouldn't you?" said Kitty. "Wait until you see who they are; you
near-sighted people shouldn't decide in such a hurry. I can tell you
that he is a gentleman you wouldn't object to walking with yourself;
it's Mr. Bruce, the one we met in New Orleans."
"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Belle, starting up.
"You will soon have a chance to see for yourself; for he is coming home
with her."
"_He is!_ What can he be walking with her for?"
"To show his taste, perhaps. I am sure he could not find more agreeable
company."
"You and I don't agree about that," replied Belle. "I don't see anything
very agreeable about her."
"Because you are determined not to, Belle. Everybody else thinks her
charming, and Mr. Bruce is opening the gate for her as politely as if
she were a queen. I like him for that."
"Do see," said Belle; "she's got on that white cape-bonnet of hers! and
that checked gingham dress! I wonder what Mr. Bruce thinks of her, and
he such a critic in regard to ladies' dress."
Gertrude and her companion now drew near to the house. The former looked
up, saw the young ladies in the doorway, and smiled pleasantly at Kitty,
who was making strange grimaces and giving insignificant glances over
Belle's shoulder; but Mr. Bruce did not observe either of them; and they
heard him say, as he handed Gertrude a small parcel he had been carrying
for her, "I believe I won't come in; it's such a bore to have to talk to
strangers. Do you work in the garden, mornings, this summer?"
"No," replied Gertrude, "there is nothing left of my garden but the
memory of it."
"Why, Miss Gertrude!" said the young man, "I hope these new-comers
haven't interfered with----" Here, observing the direction of Gertrude's
eyes, he raised his own, saw Belle and Kitty standing opposite to him;
and compelled now to speak with them, went forward to shake hands,
trusting to his remarks about strangers in general, and these new-comers
in particular, not having been overheard. Although overheard, the young
ladies chose to take no notice of that which they supposed intended for
unknown individuals.
They were mistaken, however, for Mr. Bruce knew, perfectly well that the
nieces of the present Mrs. Graham were the same girls whom he met at the
south, and was indifferent about renewing his acquaintance. But his
vanity was not proof against the evident pleasure they both manifested
at seeing him again; and he soon engaged in an animated conversation
with them, while Gertrude entered the house. She sought Emily's room,
and was giving an account of her morning's expedition to the village,
and how she had accomplished various commissions and errands, when Mrs.
Ellis came, and said, with distressed voice, "Hasn't Gertrude?--Oh,
there you are! Do tell me what Mrs. Wilkins said about the
strawberries?"
"I engaged three quarts; hasn't she sent them?"
"No, but I'm thankful to hear they're coming; I have been so plagued
about the dinner."
She now came in, and seating herself, exclaimed, "I declare, Emily, such
an ironing as our girls have got to do to-day! You never saw anything
like it! There's no end to the fine clothes Mrs. Graham and her nieces
put into our wash. It's a shame! Rich as they are, they might put out
their washing. I've been helping, _myself_, as much as I could; but, as
Mrs. Prime says, one can't do everything at once; and I've had to see
the butcher, make puddings and blancmange, and been worried to death all
the time, because I forgot to engage those strawberries. So Mrs. Wilkins
hadn't sent her fruit to market when you got there?"
"No, but she was in a great hurry getting ready; it would have been gone
in a very short time."
"Well, that was lucky. I don't know what I should have done without, for
I've no time to hunt up anything else for dessert. I've got just as much
as I can do till dinner-time. Mrs. Graham never kept house before, and
don't know how to make allowance for anything. She comes home from
Boston, expects to find everything in apple-pie order, and never asks or
cares who does the work."
Mrs. Prime called out, "Mrs. Ellis, the boy has brought your
strawberries, and the stalks an't off; he said they hadn't no time."
"That's too bad," exclaimed the tired housekeeper. "Who's going to take
the stalks off, I should like to know? Kate is busy, and I can't do it."
"I will, Mrs. Ellis; let _me_ do it," said Gertrude, following Mrs.
Ellis, who was now half-way downstairs.
"No, no! don't you, Miss Gertrude," said Mrs. Prime; "they'll only stain
your fingers all up."
"No matter if they do; my hands are not made of white kid. They'll bear
washing."
Mrs. Ellis was only too thankful for Gertrude's help. Belle and Kitty
were doing their best to entertain Mr. Bruce, who, sitting on the
door-steps, from time to time cast his eyes down the entry, and up the
staircase, in hopes of Gertrude's reappearance; and despairing of it, he
was about to depart, when his sister Fanny came running up the yard, and
rushed past the assembled trio for the house.
Her brother, however, stretched out his arm, caught her, and before he
let her go whispered something in her ear.
"Who is that wild Indian?" asked Kitty Ray, as Fanny ran across the
entry and disappeared.
"A sister of mine," answered Ben, in a nonchalant manner.
"Why! is she?" inquired Kitty, with interest; "I have seen her here
several times, and never took any notice of her. I didn't know she was
_your_ sister. What a pretty girl she is."
"Do you think so?" said Ben; "sorry I can't agree with you. I think
she's a fright."
Fanny now reappeared, and stopping a moment on her way upstairs called
out, without any ceremony, "She says she can't come, she's busy."
"Who?" asked Kitty, in her turn catching Fanny and detaining her.
"Miss Flint."
Mr. Bruce coloured slightly, and Belle Clinton observed it.
"What is she doing?" inquired Kitty.
"Picking strawberries."
"Where are you going, Fanny?"
"Upstairs."
"Do they let you go all over the house?"
"Miss Flint said I might go up and bring down the birds."
"What birds?"
"Her birds. I am going to hang them in the sun, and they'll sing
beautifully."
She went, and soon returned with a cage containing the little monias
sent by Willie from Calcutta.
"There Kitty," cried Belle; "those are the birds that wake us so early
every morning."
"Very likely," said Kitty; "bring them here. Goodness! what little
creatures they are!--do look at them, Mr. Bruce--they are sweetly
pretty."
"Put them down on the door-step, Fanny," said Ben, "so that we can see
them better."
"I'm afraid you'll frighten them," replied Fanny; "Miss Gertrude doesn't
like to have them frightened."
"No, we won't," said Ben; "we're disposed to be very friendly to Miss
Gertrude's birds. Where did she get them? Do you know, Fanny?"
"Why, they are Indian birds; Mr. Sullivan sent them to her."
"Who is he?"
"Oh, he is a very particular friend; she has letters from him every
little while."
"What Mr. Sullivan?" asked Belle. "Do you know his Christian name?"
"I suppose it's William," said Fanny. "Miss Emily always calls the birds
little Willies."
"Belle!" exclaimed Kitty, "that's your William Sullivan."
"What a favourite man he seems to be!" said Mr. Bruce, in a tone of
sarcasm; "the property of one beautiful lady and the particular friend
of another."
"I don't know what you mean, Kitty," said Belle, tartly. "Mr. Sullivan
is a junior partner of my father's, but I have not seen him for years."
"Except in your dreams, Belle," suggested Kitty. "You forget."
"Do you dream about Mr. Sullivan?" asked Fanny, fixing her eyes on Belle
as she spoke. "I mean to go and ask Miss Gertrude if she does."
"Do," said Kitty; "I'll go with you."
They ran across the entry into the dining room, and put the question at
the same time. Taken by surprise, Gertrude neither blushed nor looked
confused, but answered, quietly, "Yes, sometimes; but what do you know
of Mr. Sullivan?"
"Oh, nothing," answered Kitty; "only _some others do_, and we are
inquiring around to see how many there are;" and she ran back in triumph
to tell Belle she might as well be frank, like Gertrude, and plead
guilty to the weakness; it looked so much better than blushing and
denying it.
But it would not do to joke with Belle any longer; she was offended, and
did not conceal the fact. Mr. Bruce felt annoyed, and soon left, leaving
the two cousins to settle their difficulty as best they could. As soon
as he had gone, Belle folded up her work, and walked upstairs to her
room with great dignity, while Kitty stayed behind to laugh over the
matter, and improve her opportunity to make friends with Fanny Bruce;
for Kitty laboured under the idea that in cultivating the acquaintance
of the sister she should advance her cause.
She therefore called Fanny to sit beside her, put her arm round her
waist, and commenced talking about Gertrude, and the origin and extent
of the intimacy which seemed to exist between her and the Bruce family.
Fanny, who was always communicative, willingly informed her of the
circumstances which had attached her so strongly to a friend who was
some years her senior.
"And your brother," said Kitty, "he has known her some time, hasn't he?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Fanny, carelessly.
"Does he like her?"
"I don't know; I should think he would; I don't see how he can help it."
"What did he whisper to you when you came up the steps?"
"Oh, he bade me ask Miss Gertrude if she wasn't coming back to see him
again, and tell her he was tired to death waiting for her."
Kitty pouted and looked vexed. "Has Miss Flint been in the habit of
receiving company here, and been treated like an equal?"
"Of course she has," answered Fanny, with spirit; "why shouldn't she?
She's the most perfect lady I ever saw, and mother says she has
beautiful manners, and I must take pattern by her."
"Oh, Miss Gertrude!" called she, as Gertrude, who had been to place the
strawberries in the refrigerator, crossed the back part of the long
entry, "Are you ready now?"
"Yes, Fanny, I shall be in a moment," answered Gertrude.
"Ready for what?" inquired Kitty.
"To read," said Fanny. "She is going to read the rest of Hamlet to Miss
Emily; she read the first three acts yesterday, and Miss Emily let me
sit in her room and hear it. I can't understand it when I read it
myself, but when I listen to Miss Gertrude it seems quite plain. She's a
splendid reader, and I came in to-day on purpose to hear the play
finished."
Kitty's last companion having deserted her, she lay on the entry sofa
and fell asleep. She was wakened by her aunt, who returned from the city
a short time before dinner--"I say Kitty Ray, wake up and go dress for
dinner! I saw Belle at the chamber window looking like a beauty. I wish
you'd take half the pains she does to improve your appearance."
Kitty yawned, and, after delaying a little, followed Mrs. Graham's
directions. It was Kitty's policy, after giving offence to her cousin
Belle, to appear utterly unconscious of the existence of any unkind
feelings; and, though Belle often manifested some degree of sulkiness,
she was too dependent upon Kitty's society to retain that disposition
long. They were soon chatting together as usual.
"Belle," said Kitty, as she stood arranging her hair at the glass, "do
you remember a girl we used to meet every morning on our way to school,
walking with a paralytic old man?"
"Yes."
"Do you know, I think it was Gertrude Flint. She has altered very much,
to be sure; but the features are still the same, and there certainly
never was but one such pair of eyes."
"I have no doubt she is the same person," said Belle, composedly.
"Did you think of it before?"
"Yes, as soon as Fanny spoke of her knowing Willie Sullivan."
"Why, Belle, why didn't you speak of it?"
"Lor', Kitty, I don't feel so much interest in her as you and some
others do."
"What others?"
"Why, Mr. Bruce; don't you see he is half in love with her?"
"No, I don't see any such thing; he has known her for a long time (Fanny
says so), and, of course, he feels a respect for a girl that the Grahams
make so much account of. But I don't believe he'd think of such a thing
as being in love with a poor girl like her, with no family connections
to boast of."
"Perhaps he didn't _think_ of being."
"Well, he _wouldn't_ be. She isn't the sort of person that would suit
him. He has been in society a great deal, not only at home, but in
Paris; and he would want a wife that was very lively and fond of
company, and knew how to make a show with money."
"A girl, for instance, like Kitty Ray."
"How ridiculous, Belle! just as if people couldn't talk without thinking
of themselves all the time! What do I care about Ben Bruce?"
"I don't know that you care anything about him; but I wouldn't pull all
the hair out of my head about it, as you are doing. There's the
dinner-bell."