MR. AND MRS. HASTINGS.
In blissful ignorance of the gossip which his movements were exciting
in Dunwood, Mr. Hastings in the city went quietly on with the
preparations for his removal, purchasing and storing away in divers
baskets, boxes and bags, many luxuries which he knew he could not
readily procure in the country, and which would be sadly missed by his
young girl-wife, who sat all day in her mother's parlor, bemoaning her
fate in being thus doomed to a life in the "horribly vulgar country."
She had forgotten that "she could live anywhere with _him_," for the
Ella Hastings of to-day is the Ella Gray of little more than a year
ago, the same who had listened to the sad story of _Dora Deane_,
without ever thinking that some day in the future she should meet the
little girl who made such an impression upon her husband.
Howard Hastings was not the only man who, with a grand theory as to
what a wife ought to be, had married from pure fancy; finding too late
that she whom he took for a companion was a mere plaything--a doll to
be dressed up and sent out into the fashionable world, where alone her
happiness could be found. Still the disappointment to such is not the
less bitter, because others, too, are suffering from the effect of a
like hallucination, and Howard Hastings felt it most keenly. He loved,
or fancied he loved, Ella Grey devotedly, and when in her soft flowing
robes of richly embroidered lace, with the orange blossoms resting upon
her golden curls, and her long eyelashes veiling her eyes of blue, she
had stood at the altar as his bride there was not in all New York a
prouder or a happier man. Alas, that in the intimate relations of
married life, there should never be brought to light faults whose
existence was never suspected! Yet so it is, and the honeymoon had
scarcely waned ere Mr. Hastings began to feel a very little
disappointed, as, one after another, the peculiarities of his wife were
unfolded to his view.
In all _his_ pictures of domestic bliss, there had ever been a home of
his own, a cheerful fireside, to which he could repair, when the day's
toil was done, but Ella would not hear of housekeeping. To be sure, it
would be very pleasant to keep up a grand establishment and give
splendid dinner-parties, but she knew that Howard, with his peculiar
notions, would expect her to do just as his "dear, fussy old mother
did," and that, she wouldn't for a moment think of, for she really "did
not know the _names_ of one-half the queer-looking things in the
kitchen."
"She will improve as she grows older--she is very young yet, but little
more than eighteen," thought Mr. Hastings; and his heart softened
towards her, as he remembered the kind of training she had received
from her mother, who was a pure slave of fashion, and would have deemed
her daughters degraded had they possessed any knowledge of work.
And still, when the aristocratic Howard Hastings had sued for Ella's
hand, she felt honored, notwithstanding that both his mother and sister
were known to be well skilled in everything pertaining to what she
called "drudgery." To remove his wife from her mother's influence, and
at the same time prolong her life, for she was really very delicate,
was Mr. Hasting's aim; and as he had always fancied a home in the
country, he at last purchased Rose Hill farm in spite of Ella's tears,
and the frowns of her mother, who declared it impossible for her
daughter to live without society, and pronounced all country people
"rough, ignorant and vulgar."
All this Ella believed, and though she was far too amiable and
sweet-tempered to be really angry, she came very near _sulking_ all the
way from New York to Dunwood. But when at the depot, she met the new
carriage and horses which had been purchased expressly for herself, she
was somewhat mollified and telling her husband "he was the best man in
the world," she took the reins in her own little soft, white hands, and
laughed aloud as she saw how the spirited creatures obeyed her
slightest wish. From the parlor windows of Locust Grove, Eugenia and
her sister looked out upon the strangers, pronouncing Mr. Hastings the
most elegant-looking man they had ever seen, while his wife, the
girlish Ella, was thought far too pale to be very beautiful.
Near the gate at the entrance to Rose Hill, was a clear limpid stream,
where the school-children often played, and where they were now
assembled. A little apart from the rest, seated upon a mossy bank, with
her bare feet in the running water, and her rich auburn hair shading
her brown cheeks, was Dora Deane, not dreaming this time, but watching
so intently a race between two of her companions, that she did not see
the carriage until it was directly opposite. Then, guessing who its
occupants were she started up, coloring crimson as she saw the lady's
eyes fixed upon her, and felt sure she was the subject of remark.
"Look, Howard," said Ella. "I suppose that is what you call a rural
sight--a barefoot girl, with a burnt face and huge sunbonnet?"
Ere Mr. Hastings could reply, Dora, wishing to redeem her character,
which she was sure she had lost by having been caught with her feet in
the brook, darted forward and opening the gate, held it for them to
pass.
"Shall I give her some money?" softly whispered Ella, feeling for her
purse.
"Hush-sh!" answered Mr. Hastings, for he knew that money would be an
insult to Dora, who felt more than repaid by the pleasant smile he gave
her as he said, "Thank you, miss."
"I have seen a face like his before," thought Dora, as she walked
slowly down the road, while the carriage kept on its way, and soon
carried Ella to her new home.
Not to be pleased with Rose Hill was impossible, and as the young
wife's eye fell upon the handsome building, with its cool,
vine-wreathed piazza--upon the shaded walks, the sparkling fountains
and the thousands of roses which were now in full bloom, she almost
cried with delight, even forgetting, for a time, that she was in the
"horrid country." But she was ere long reminded of the fact by Mrs.
Leah, who told of the "crowds of gaping people," who had been up to see
the house. With a deprecating glance at the village where the "gaping
people" were supposed to live, Ella drew nearer to her husband,
expressing a wish that the good folks of Dunwood would confine their
calls to the house and grounds, and not be troubling her. But in this
she was destined to be disappointed, for the inhabitants of Dunwood
were friendly, social people, who knew no good reason why they should
not be on terms of equality with the little lady of Rose Hill; and one
afternoon, about a week after her arrival at Dunwood, she was told that
some ladies were waiting for her in the parlor.
"Dear me! Sophy," said she, while a frown for an instant clouded her
pretty face, "tell them I'm not at home."
"But I just told them you were," answered Sophy, adding that "the
ladies were well-dressed and fine-looking," and suggesting that her
young mistress should wear down something more appropriate than the
soiled white muslin wrapper in which she had lounged all day, because
"it was not worth her while to dress, when there was no one but her
_husband_ to see her."
This, however, Ella refused to do. "It was good enough for country
folks," she said, as she rather reluctantly descended to the parlor,
where her first glance at her visitors made her half regret that she
had not followed Sophy's advice. Mrs. Judge Howell and her
daughter-in-law were refined, cultivated women, and ere Ella had
conversed with them five minutes, she felt that if there was between
them any point of inferiority, it rested with herself, and not with
them. They had traveled much, both in the Old and New World; and though
their home was in Boston, they spent almost every summer in Dunwood,
which Mrs. Howell pronounced a most delightful village, assuring Ella
that she could not well avoid being happy and contented. Very
wonderingly the large childish blue eyes went up to the face of Mrs.
Howell, who, interpreting aright their expression, casually remarked
that when she was young, she fell into the foolish error of thinking
there could be _nobody_ outside the walls of a city. "But the
experience of sixty years has changed my mind materially," said she,
"for I have met quite as many refined and cultivated people in the
country as in the city."
This was a new idea to Ella, and the next visitors, who came in just
after Mrs. Howell left, were obliged to wait while she made quite an
elaborate toilet.
"Oh, Ella, how much better you are looking than you were an hour or two
since," exclaimed Mr. Hastings, who entered the chamber just as his
wife was leaving it.
"There's company in the parlor," answered Ella, tripping lightly away,
while her husband walked on into the dressing-room, where he stepped
first over a pair of slippers, then over a muslin wrapper, and next
over a towel, which Ella in her haste had left upon the floor, her
usual place for everything.
This time the visitors proved to be Eugenia and Alice, with the first
of whom the impulsive Ella was perfectly delighted, she was so refined,
so genteel, so richly dressed, and assumed withal such a _patronizing_
air, that the shortsighted Ella felt rather overawed, particularly when
she spoke of her "uncle in India," with whom she was "_such_ a
favorite." During their stay, _servants_ were introduced as a topic of
conversation, and on that subject Eugenia was quite as much at home as
Mrs. Hastings, descanting at large upon the many annoyances one was
compelled to endure, both from the "ignorance and impertinence of hired
help." Once or twice, too, the words "my waiting-maid" escaped her
lips, and when at last she took her leave, she had the satisfaction of
knowing that Mrs. Hastings was duly impressed with a sense of her
importance.
"Such charming people I never expected to find in the country, and so
elegantly dressed too," thought Ella, as from her window she watched
them walking slowly down the long avenue. "That silk of Miss Eugenia's
could not have cost less than two dollars a yard, and her hands, too,
were as soft and white as mine. They must be wealthy--those Deanes: I
wonder if they ever give any parties."
And then, as she remembered sundry gossamer fabrics which were
dignified by the title of party dresses, and which, with many tears,
she had folded away as something she should never need in the country,
she exclaimed aloud, "Why, can't _I_ have a party here as well as at
home? The house is a great deal larger than the long narrow thing on
which mama prides herself so much. And then it will be such fun to show
off before the country people, who, of course, are not all as refined
as the Deanes. I'll speak to Howard about it immediately."
"Speak to me about what?" asked Mr. Hastings, who had entered the
parlor in time to hear the last words of his wife.
Very briefly Ella stated to him her plan of giving a large party as
soon as a sufficient number of the village people had called.
"You know you wish me to be sociable with them," she continued, as she
saw the slightly comical expression of her husband's face; "and how can
I do it better than by inviting them to my house?"
"I am perfectly willing for the party," answered Mr. Hastings, "but I
do rather wonder what has so soon changed your mind."
"Oh, nothing much," returned Ella, "only the people don't seem half as
vulgar as mama said they would. I wish you could see Eugenia Deane.
She's perfectly magnificent--wears a diamond ring, Valenciennes lace,
and all that. Her mother is very wealthy, isn't she?"
"I have never supposed so--if you mean the widow Deane, who lives at
the place called 'Locust Grove,'" answered Mr. Hastings; and Ella
continued, "Yes, she is, I am sure, from the way Eugenia talked. They
keep servants, I know, for she spoke of a waiting-maid. Then, too, they
have an old bachelor uncle in India, with a million or more, and these
two young ladies will undoubtedly inherit it all at his death."
"Miss Deane must have been very communicative," said Mr. Hastings, who
understood the world much better than his wife, and who readily guessed
that Miss Eugenia had passed herself off for quite as much as she was.
"It was perfectly natural for her to tell me what she did," answered
Ella, "and I like her so much! I mean to drive over there soon, and
take her out riding."
Here the conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the door-bell,
and it was not again resumed until the Monday morning following, when,
at the breakfast-table, Ella asked for the carriage to be sent round,
as "she was going to call at Mrs. Deane's, and take the young ladies to
ride."
"But it is washing-day," suggested Mr. Hastings, wishing to tease his
wife. "And nothing, I am told, mortifies a woman more than to be caught
with her hair in papers, and her arms in the suds. So, if you value
your friend Eugenia's feelings, you had better wait until to-morrow."
"_Suds_, Howard! What do you mean?" asked the indignant Ella. "Eugenia
Deane's hands never saw a wash-tub! Why, they are almost as white as
mine." And the little lady glanced rather admiringly at the small snowy
fingers, which handled so gracefully the heavy knife and fork of silver.
"You have my permission to go," said Mr. Hastings, "but I am inclined
to think you'll have to wait a long time for your friends to make their
appearance."
Mentally resolving not to tell him if she did, Ella ran up to her room,
where, leaving her morning dress in the middle of the floor, and
donning a handsome plaid silk, she descended again to the parlor, and
suggested to her husband the propriety of bringing the young ladies
home with her to dinner, alleging, as one reason, that "there was no
use of having a silver dining set and nice things, unless there was
somebody to see them."
"And am not _I_ somebody?" asked Mr. Hastings, playfully winding his
arm around the little creature, who answered, "Why, yes--but mama never
thought it worth her while always to have _the best things_ and fix up
when there was no one to dinner but us and father; and I don't think I
need to be so particular as when I was Ella Grey and you were Mr.
Hastings, for now I am your wife, and you are---"
Here she paused, while she stooped down to caress a huge Newfoundland
dog, which came bounding in. Then, remembering she had not finished her
sentence, she added after a moment, "And you are _only Howard!_"
Silenced, if not convinced, Mr. Hastings walked away, wondering if
every husband, at the expiration of fifteen months, reached the
enviable position of being "only Howard!" Half an hour later, and Ella
Hastings, having left orders with Mrs. Leah for a "company dinner," was
riding down the shaded avenue into the highway, where she bade the
coachman drive in the direction of Locust Grove.