SARATOGA.
“MRS. WORTHINGTON, daughter, and, colored servant. Spring Bank, Ky.”
“DR. JOHN RICHARDS and mother, New York City.”
“IRVING STANLEY, Esq., Baltimore.”
These were the last entries made by the clerk at Union Hall, which was
so crowded, that for the new comers no rooms were found except the
small, uncomfortable ones far up in the fourth story of the Ainsworth
block, and thither, in not the most amiable mood, ’Lina followed her
trunks, and was followed in turn by her mother and Lulu, the crowd whom
they passed deciphering the name upon the trunks and whispering to each
other, “From Spring Bank, Kentucky. Haughty looking girl, wasn’t she?”
From his little twelve by ten apartment, where the summer sun was
pouring in a perfect blaze of heat, Dr. Richards saw them pass, and
after wondering who they were, gave them no farther thought, but sat
jamming his pen-knife into the old worm-eaten table, and thinking savage
thoughts against that capricious lady, Fortune, who had compelled him to
come to Saratoga, where rich wives were supposed to be had for the
asking. Too late he had discovered the ruse imposed on him by Mr.
Liston—had discovered that Alice was the heiress of more than $50,000,
and following the discovery came the mortifying knowledge that not one
dime of it would probably ever be used for defraying his personal
expenses. Alice had learned how purely sordid and selfish was the man
whom she had thought so misunderstood by the Snowdonites, and in Dr.
Richard’s vest pocket there lay at this very moment a note, the meaning
of which was that Alice Johnson declined the honor of becoming his wife.
They would still be friends, she said; would meet as if nothing had
occurred, but she could not be his wife. This it was which had brought
him to Saratoga, indignant, mortified and desperate. There were other
heiresses beside Alice Johnson—others less fastidious; and he could find
them, too. Love was out of the question, as that had died with poor
Lily, so that now he was ready for the first chance that offered,
provided that chance possessed a certain style, and was tolerably
good-looking. He did not see ’Lina at all, for she had passed the door
before he looked up, so he only saw the mother, with Lulu trudging
obediently behind, and hearing them enter the room, returned to his
cogitations.
From his pleasanter, airier apartment, on the other side of the narrow
hall, Irving Stanley looked through his golden glasses, pitying the poor
ladies condemned to that slow roast, thinking how, if he knew them, he
would surely offer to exchange, as it did not matter so much where a man
was stowed away, he was so seldom in his room, while ladies must
necessarily spend half their time there at least in dressing; and with a
sigh for unfortunate ladies in general, the kind-hearted Irving Stanley
closed his door and proceeded to make his own toilet for dinner, then
only an hour in the future.
How hot, and dusty, and cross ’Lina was, and what a look of dismay she
cast around the room, with its two bedsteads, its bureaus, its table,
its washstand, and its dozen pegs for her two dozen dresses, to say
nothing of her mother’s. She’d like to know if this was Saratoga, and
these its accommodations. It was not fit to put the pigs in, and she
wondered what the proprietor was thinking of when he sent her up there.
“I s’pects he didn’t know how you was an _Airey_,” Lulu said, demurely,
her eyes brimming with mischief.
’Lina turned to box her ears, but the black face was so grave and solemn
in its expression that she changed her mind, thinking she had been
mistaken in Lulu’s ironical tone.
How tired and faint poor Mrs. Worthington was, and how she wished she
had staid at home, like a sensible woman, instead of coming here to be
made so uncomfortable in this hot room. But it could not now be helped,
’Lina said; they must do the best they could; and with a forlorn glance
at the luxuriant patch of weeds, the most prominent view from the
window, ’Lina opened one of her trunks, and spreading a part of the
contents upon the bed, began to dress for dinner, changing her mind
three times, driving her mother and Lulu nearly distracted, and finally
deciding upon a rich green silk, which, with its crimson trimmings, was
very becoming to her dark style, but excessively hot-looking on that
sultry day. But ’Lina meant to make a good first impression. Everything
depended upon that, and as the green was the heaviest, richest thing she
had, so she would first appear in it. Besides that, the two young men
who had looked at her from the door had not escaped her observation. She
had seen them both, deciding that Dr. Richards was the most distingue of
the two, though Irving Stanley was very elegant, very refined, and very
intellectual looking in those glasses, which gave him so scholarly an
appearance. ’Lina never dreamed that this was Irving Stanley, or she
would have occupied far more time in brushing her hair and coiling among
its braids the bandeau of pearls borrowed of Ellen Tiffton. As it was,
the dinner bell had long since ceased ringing, and the tread of feet
ceased in the halls below ere she descended to the deserted parlor,
followed by her mother, nervous and frightened at the prospect of this,
her first appearance at Saratoga.
“Pray, rouse yourself,” ’Lina whispered, as she saw how white she was,
when she learned that their seats were at the extreme end of the dining
room—that in order to reach it, nearly one thousand pair of eyes must be
encountered, and one thousand glances braved. “Rouse yourself, do; and
not let them guess you were never at a watering place before,” and ’Lina
thoughtfully smoothed her mother’s cap by way of reassuring her.
But even ’Lina herself quailed when she reached the door and caught a
glimpse of the busy life within, the terrible ordeal she must pass.
“Oh, for a pair of pantaloons to walk beside one, even if Hugh were in
them,” she thought, as her own and her mother’s lonely condition rose
before her.
But Hugh was watching a flat boat on the Mississippi that summer
afternoon, and as there was no other person on whom she had a claim, she
must meet her fate alone.
“Courage, mother,” she whispered again, and then advanced into the room,
growing bolder at every step, for with one rapid glance she had swept
the hall, and felt that amid that bevy of beauty and fashion there were
few more showy than ’Lina Worthington in her rustling dress of green,
with Ellen Tiffton’s bracelet on one arm and the one bought with Adah’s
money on the other.
“Here, madam,” and their conductor pointed to chairs directly opposite
Dr. Richards, watching them as they came up to the hall, and deciding
that the young lady’s arms were most too white for her dark skin, and
her cheeks a trifle too red.
“It’s put on skillfully, though,” he thought, while the showily dressed
old lady beside him whispered,
“What elegant bracelets, and handsome point lace collar!” just as ’Lina
haughtily ordered the servant to move her chair a little farther from
the table.
Bowing deferentially, the polite attendant quickly drew back her chair,
while she spread out her flowing skirts to an extent which threatened to
envelop her mother, sinking meekly into her seat, confused and flurried.
But alas for ’Lina. The servant did not calculate the distance aright,
and the lady, who had meant to do the thing so gracefully, who had
intended showing the people that she had been to Saratoga before,
suddenly found herself, prostrate upon the floor, her chair some way
behind her, and the plate, which, in her descent, she had grasped
unconsciously, flying off diagonally past her mother’s head, and
fortunately past the head of her mother’s left-hand neighbor.
Poor ’Lina! How she wished she might never get up again. How she hoped
the floor beneath would open and swallow her up, and how she mentally
anathematized the careless negro, choking with suppressed laughter
behind her. As she struggled to arise she was vaguely conscious that a
white hand was stretched out to help her, that the same hand smoothed
her dress and held her chair safely. Too much chagrined to think who it
was rendering her these little attentions, she took her seat, glancing
up and down the table to witness the effect of her mishap.
There was a look of consternation on Dr. Richards face, but he was too
well bred to laugh, or even to smile, though there was a visible desire
to do so, an expression, which ’Lina construed into contempt for her
awkwardness, and then he went on with his previous occupation, that of
crumbling his bread and scanning the ladies near, while waiting for the
next course. There was also a look of surprise in the face of the lady
next to him, and then she too occupied herself with something else.
At first, ’Lina thought nothing could keep her tears back, they gathered
so fast in her eyes, and her voice trembled so that she could not answer
the servant’s question,
“Soup, madam, soup?”
But he of the white hand did it for her.
“Of course she’ll take soup,” then in an aside, he said to her gently,
“Never mind, you are not the first lady who has been served in that way.
It’s quite a common occurrence.” There was something reassuring in his
voice, and turning toward him ’Lina caught the gleam of the golden
glasses, and knew that her _vis-à-vis_ up stairs was also her right-hand
neighbor. How grateful she felt for his kind attentions, paid so
delicately, and with an evident desire to shield her from remark, and
how she wondered who he was, as he tried, by numberless unobtrusive
acts, to quiet her.
Kind and gentle as a woman, Irving Stanley was sometimes laughed at by
his own sex, as too gentle, too feminine in disposition; but those who
knew him best loved him most, and loved him, too, just because he was
not so stern, so harsh, so overbearing as men are wont to be. A woman
was a sacred piece of mechanism to him—a something to be petted, humored
and caressed, and still treated as an equal. The most considerate of
sons, the most affectionate of brothers, he was idolized at home, while
the society in which he mingled, knew no greater favorite, and ’Lina
might well be thankful that her lot was cast so near him. He did not
talk to her at the table further than a few commonplace remarks, but
when after dinner was over, and his Havana smoked, he found her sitting
with her mother out in the grove, apart from everybody, and knew that
they were there alone, he went to them, and ere many minutes had elapsed
discovered to his surprise that they were his so called cousins from
Kentucky. Nothing could exceed ’Lina’s delight. He was there unfettered
by mother or sister or sweetheart, and of course would attach himself
exclusively to her. ’Lina was very happy, and more than once her loud
laugh rang out so loud that Irving, with all his charity, had a faint
suspicion that round his Kentucky cousin, there might linger a species
of coarseness, not altogether agreeable to one of his refinement. Still
he sat chatting with her until the knowing dowagers, who year after year
watch such things at Saratoga, whispered behind their fans of a
flirtation between the elegant Mr. Stanley and that haughty looking girl
from Kentucky.
“I never saw him so familiar with a stranger upon so short an
acquaintance,” said Mrs. Buford, whose three daughters would any one of
them have exchanged their name for Stanley. “I wonder if he knew her
before. Upon my word, that laugh of hers is rather coarse, let her be
who she will.”
“Yes, but that silk never cost less than three dollars a yard at
Stewart’s. See the lustre there is on it,” and old Mrs. Richards, who
had brought herself into the field by way of assisting her son in his
campaign, levelled her glass at ’Lina’s green silk, showing well in the
bright sunlight “Here, John,” she called to her son, who was passing
“can you tell me who that young lady is—the one who so very awkwardly
sat down upon the floor at dinner?”
“I do not know, and I cannot say that I wish to,” was the _nonchalant_
reply, as the doctor took the vacant chair his mother had so long been
keeping for him. “I hardly fancy her style. She’s too _brusque_ to suit
me, though Irving Stanley seems to find her agreeable.”
“Is that Irving Stanley?” and Mrs. Richards levelled her glass again,
for Irving Stanley was not unknown to her by reputation. “She must be
somebody, John, or he would not notice her,” and she spoke in an aside,
adding in a louder tone, “I wonder who she is. There’s their servant. I
mean to question her,” and as Lulu came near, she said, “Girl, who do
you belong to?”
“’Longs to them,” jerking her head toward ’Lina and Mrs. Worthington.
“Where do you live?” was the next query, and Lulu replied.
“Spring Bank, Kentucky. Missus live in big house, most as big as this.”
Then anxious to have the ordeal passed, and fearful that she might not
acquit herself satisfactorily to ’Lina, who, without seeming to notice
her, had drawn near enough to hear, she added, “Miss ’Lina is an airey,
a very large _airey_, and has a heap of—of——” Lulu hardly knew what, but
finally in desperation added, “a heap of ars,” and then fled away ere
another question could be asked her.
“_What_ did she say she was?” Mrs. Richards asked, and the doctor
replied,
“She said an _airey_. She meant an heiress.”
“Oh, yes, an heiress. I don’t doubt it, from her appearance, and Mr.
Stanley’s attentions. _Stylish looking_ isn’t she?”
“Rather, yes—magnificent eyes at all events,” and the doctor stroked his
mustache thoughtfully, while his mother, turning to Mrs. Buford, began
to compliment ’Lina’s form, and the fit of her dress.
Money, or the reputation of possessing money, is an all powerful charm,
and in a few places does it show its power more plainly than at
Saratoga, where it was soon known that the lady from Spring Bank was
heiress to immense wealth in Kentucky, how immense nobody knew, and
various were the estimates put upon it. Among Mrs. Buford’s clique it
was twenty thousand; farther away and in another hall it was fifty,
while Mrs. Richards, ere the supper hour arrived, had heard that it was
at least a hundred thousand dollars. How or where she heard it she
hardly knew, but she endorsed the statement as correct, and at the tea
table that night was exceedingly gracious to ’Lina and her mother,
offering to divide a little private dish which she had ordered for
herself, and into which poor Mrs. Worthington inadvertently dipped,
never dreaming that it was not common property.
“It was not of the slightest consequence, Mrs. Richards was delighted to
share it with her,” and that was the way the conversation commenced.
’Lina knew now that the proud man whose lip had curled so scornfully at
dinner, was Dr. Richards, and Dr. Richards knew that the girl who sat on
the floor was ’Lina Worthington, from Spring Bank, where Alice Johnson
was going.
“I did not gather from Mr. Liston that these Worthingtons were wealthy,”
he said to himself, “but if the old codger would deceive me with regard
to Miss Johnson, he would with regard to them,” and mentally resolving
to make an impression before they could see and talk with Alice, the
doctor was so polite that ’Lina scarcely knew whose attentions to
prefer, his or Irving Stanley’s, who, rather glad of a co-worker,
yielded the field without a struggle, and by the time tea was over the
doctor’s star was in the ascendant.
How ’Lina wanted to stay in the crowded parlors, but her mother had so
set her heart upon seeing Alice Johnson, that she was forced to humor
her, and repaired to her room to make a still more elaborate toilet, as
she wished to impress Miss Johnson with a sense of her importance.
A pale blue silk, with white roses in her hair, was finally decided
upon, and when, just as the gas was lighted; she descended with her
mother to the parlor, her opera cloak thrown gracefully around her
uncovered shoulders, and Ellen Tiffton’s glass in her hand, she had the
satisfaction of knowing that she created quite a sensation, and that
others than Dr. Richards looked after her admiringly as she swept
through the room, followed by her mother and _Lulu_, the latter of whom
was answering no earthly purpose save to show that they had a servant.