MRS. CHAPMAN AND THE UPPER CIRCLES.
Let us go back, gentle reader, into the village of Nyack on that same
damp, stormy night, and into the house of Bigelow Chapman, the reformer.
A very different picture was presented there. The reformer was up
stairs, studying plans for the future. His spacious parlor was furnished
with a profusion of furniture, of the most approved style, and such as
was not common in the country at that day. They have got a new piano,
too; and a nice young gentleman in reduced circumstances, a foreigner,
is expected up from New York to give their daughter lessons on it. This
little affair of the piano and the foreigner has set the whole town to
talking, and people are putting on grave faces, and inquiring how they
can afford it. But it seems they do afford it, and also to have the best
of carpets on their parlor floor. And they have shown a taste for art in
several engravings hung on the walls.
The Chapmans expected company from the city that night. A bright coal
fire and a globe lamp on the centre-table are shedding a soft, mellow
light, and adding an air of comfort and cheerfulness to everything in
the room.
Mattie was sitting alone in the parlor reading a letter by the light on
the centre-table. Her dress was a plain black silk, made high at the
neck, and with an open stomacher, disclosing an aggravating bit of white
lace. There was always something neat and becoming in Mattie's dress,
and the white ruffles that now encircled her neck and wrists added the
charm of simplicity to her appearance. Her hair, too, was almost
golden, and hung in long, careless curls down her shoulders.
There was something of deep interest to her in that letter, for she read
and re-read it, as her soft, blue eyes, so full of love and tenderness,
almost filled with tears. Then she kissed it, and kissed it, and pressed
it to her bosom. "Oh, how I wish he was here to-night, that I could tell
him how much I love him;" she said, resting her head on her hand
thoughtfully. "I would tell him all my thoughts and feelings, just as he
has told me his. He is so true to me, and it never shall be said that I
am not true to him, poor fellow!" she mused, and putting the letter to
her lips again she kissed and kissed it. "They never can get me to love
any one else, never!" she resumed, when the door opened and Mrs. Chapman
entered, arrayed in her best millinery, and her front hair screwed into
the tightest of curls. The good woman had evidently resolved to put on
her very best appearance.
"These disappointments are very annoying, my daughter, very," she spoke,
advancing and fretting her hand nervously. "If our company does not come
then--well, all our dressing will be for nothing. I wanted you so much
to see Mr. Gusher, my daughter. He's such a nice young gentleman, so
clever and agreeable--and has such a distinguished look, my daughter."
Mrs. Chapman expanded herself, while emphasizing the word distinguished.
She then filled the great arm-chair with her weighty person. "To get
prepared for company, and city company at that, and then have company
not come!" she resumed, casting a glance at Mattie, to see if she could
discern in her countenance what impression she had made. But Mattie
remained silent and thoughtful.
"It's not Mr. Gusher's fault, though. We must charge it all to the
storm, I suppose. Then I did want you to see Mr. Gusher so much, my
daughter. He is such a nice young man--and has such prospects. And
prospects is what a young woman should look to when gentlemen come
seriously inclined to matrimony--"
"Mother," said Mattie, interrupting, "I have got such a nice letter. It
has made me so happy. I know you would like to read it. You always like
to read my letters, you know." And Mattie looked playfully in her
mother's face, and handed her the letter. "You will be delighted to hear
from him. He says so many kind, good things."
Mrs. Chapman took the letter and scanned over it hastily. "And so it has
come to this, has it?" she said, looking admonishingly at Mattie. "A
letter from that sailor-boy, the son of them common Dutch people. Your
father shall see this. Our daughter has stooped so low as to pledge
herself to such a common man!"
"I love you, mother," said Mattie, "and I don't want to be disobedient;
but I love him, and I know he loves me. Yes, mother, I love Tite just as
much as if he was a rich man's son. I dreamed last night that he came
home a rich man, and brought me so many nice things; and that we were
married, and were so happy." And she threw her arms around her mother's
neck and kissed her so affectionately. "Who knows, mother, but that he
may come home rich? But even if he comes home poor, I know he will be
good and true to me," she concluded.
"How very sentimental you are, my daughter," rejoined Mrs. Chapman, the
little curls about her brow seeming to get tighter as her broad face
grew redder. "Sentimental people never prosper, though--never knew one
yet that did. Was silly and sentimental once myself. That was before I
married your father."
"Oh," rejoined Mattie, playfully, "I am real glad that you remember
those things, mother. Was father rich when you were married?"
Mrs. Chapman shook her head, and looked confused for a moment. "He was
not rich, my daughter. But then he was so clever--and had such
intellectual prospects. Brought up as you have been, my daughter, and
with such accomplishments, and such prospects!--to throw yourself away
on a sentiment. Just think of it! What would my mother have said if I
had gone off and married a man just for sentiment's sake? I brought you
up in strict regard to all the proprieties, and now you insist that you
won't be a lady."
"Don't fret so, mother," said Mattie, again putting her arms around her
mother's neck, and kissing her. "I will be a real good, obedient girl,
and do anything you bid me. But then--" Here Mattie paused for a moment,
and looked roguishly up into her mother's face.
"But then--what?"
"Well, I don't think we shall agree about Mr. Gusher. The truth is,
mother--I don't know why--but then I don't think I ever can love him.
But then, you know, mother, I have not seen him yet; and you would'nt
have me love a man before I saw him?"
"Perhaps not, my daughter; but I would have you look up, remember your
quality, and consider what you may be. If you condescend to look down on
that sailor-boy, there's no hope of the family ever moving in the upper
circles. But he'll never come back. That ship'll go to the bottom as
sure as the world. Something tells me she will go down, and I know she
will."
At this Mattie's eyes filled with tears, and she buried her face in her
hands and gave vent to her emotions in sobs. "Mother, mother," she
rejoined, after a short pause, "how cruel of you to say so, even if you
thought so. He was so manly, and so kind to me."
At this Mrs. Chapman rose from her chair with an air of injured dignity,
and walked in silence up and down the room for several minutes. Then she
heaved a sigh, extended her hand, and resumed: "Your tears, my daughter,
are what tear down my pride. No use, I see; my advice is all thrown
away--all thrown away! Oh, what a thing it is to have a daughter, and
yet not have a daughter. I mean to have a daughter that will have her
own way." Again Mrs. Chapman resumed her chair, and became thoughtful
and silent.
"You know I love to please you, mother, for you are such a good mother
to me in everything else," rejoined Mattie, kneeling beside her mother,
placing her arms on her knees, and looking up lovingly in her face. "You
know I like to please you, mother," she repeated; "and I won't marry
anybody until Tite comes home. But then you must not say anything more
to me about Mr. Gusher."
"That's poor consolation--very poor consolation, my daughter," replied
Mrs. Chapman, rebukingly. "Exactly what I did'nt want you to promise.
Then you have promised yourself to the young man? I'd never have got
your father if I'd made such a promise to such a young man. I have
always looked forward to the time when we should have a fine house on
the Battery, and move in the higher circles."
Chapman now entered the room, which put an end to the conversation
between Mattie and her mother. Chapman smiled for once, and was
evidently in a pleasant mood. After rubbing his hands and taking a seat
by the fire, and looking first at Mattie and then at her mother, he
said: "I have good news to tell you. The storm has prevented Gusher from
getting here to-night. But the Kidd Discovery Company matter is settled,
and will be a great success. No need of inventing a new religion now.
Hanz has got his head full of the project. Has made all his Dutch
neighbors believe there is a fortune in it for them all. We go on an
expedition up the river to-morrow night, in search of the d----l's
sounding-rock. That's the place where Kidd buried his treasure, you see.
These honest old Dutchmen firmly believe that Kidd had an understanding
with the devil when he buried it there. Just show them how to start an
enterprise and make money, and they are as ready to make it as
anybody."