IN THE CITY.
In a proud city and rich—
A city fair and old,
Filled with the world’s most costly things,
Of precious stones and gold;
Of silks, fine wool, and spiceries,
And all that’s bought and sold.—MARY HOWITT.
On her arrival at Richmond, Mrs. Clifton engaged for herself and
Catherine two rooms—a chamber with two beds, and a neat adjoining
parlor—in a quiet, retired boardinghouse.
Miss Clifton was the guest of Mrs. Cabell, in the most fashionable
quarter of the city. Captain Clifton had not yet arrived, but was daily
expected. Richmond was in the commencement of the fashionable season,
and was already quite full of gay company. Every evening witnessed some
one or two grand balls, or great private parties. The theatres and the
concert rooms were in full operation. But no faint echo of all these
various forms of revelry came to the sequestered neighborhood that Mrs.
Clifton had chosen for her retreat. No news of the fashionable world
reached her, except constant bulletins of Mrs. Georgia Clifton’s
progress through society. She was one of those city celebrities whose
sayings and doings are the exciting topic of all classes. Where she
went, and what she wore, and when she rode out. Whom she cut directly,
whom she smiled upon, whom she slighted, and whom she received, were the
most interesting subjects of discussion. The Belle of the Rappahannock,
the Dark Ladye, the Gipsy Beauty, were some of the many names she had
won. All these matters were freely and lightly commented upon in Mrs.
Clifton’s presence, by gentlemen boarders, who knew nothing whatever of
that lady’s connexion with the reigning toast of Richmond. Mrs. Clifton
rested two days before calling upon Mrs. Cabell and her family. Miss
Clifton expressed almost as much surprise as pleasure at the sight of
her aunt, but forbore to question her motive in coming so suddenly to
the city. Perhaps Carolyn had heard a rumor of Major Clifton’s
preferment and expected arrival, and for that reason was silent. Mrs.
Clifton never named the subject during her informal call. At taking
leave she left her address, and informed her niece that Kate Kavanagh
was in town with her. Carolyn expressed much pleasure at hearing this,
and promised to call very soon. The very next day Mrs. Cabell came in
her carriage, and invited and urged Mrs. Clifton and her protégé to
return with her, and make her house their home during their sojourn in
Richmond. After some hesitation and reflection, Mrs. Clifton accepted
the invitation, and promised to go over the next day. The next morning,
therefore, Mrs. Cabell sent her carriage to convey Mrs. Clifton and
Catherine. They were received by Mrs. Cabell with great politeness and
_empressement_, and conducted by that lady herself into two large and
luxuriously furnished chambers, connected with each other, where they
found a neat, pretty mulatto girl, ready to wait upon them—for Mrs.
Cabell, with all her hard worldliness, was truly kind and hospitable.
The evening of the succeeding day was the appointed time for the
Governor’s first reception. Mrs. Cabell and her family were going, of
course. And Mrs. Clifton resolved to go—not for her own sake, but for
that of Catherine, whom she had determined should see all that was to be
seen during her stay in the metropolis. A somewhat haughty surprise
elevated the handsome black eyebrows of Mrs. Cabell, when she found that
Mrs. Clifton intended to take her _demoiselle du compagnie_, but she was
far too well bred to express it in any other manner. And as for Mrs.
Clifton, she always did whatever she thought proper to do, in the
coolest, calmest, most matter-of-course manner, without the slightest
regard to other people’s weaknesses and follies. You know, besides, that
she was a thorough republican. And Mrs. Cabell remembered that the
public reception at the gubernatorial mansion was a sort of _omnium
gatherum_, where all who behaved themselves might come—from the oldest
Major-General of the army to the shoemaker who made his boots. And
again, no one in Richmond knew who the girl really was. All these things
had Mrs. Cabell to recall to mind before she could reconcile herself to
the idea of Kate’s being of the party.
When the night and the hour arrived, several gentlemen, beaux of the
Misses Cabell, came to escort the ladies. Major Cabell attended his
cousin Carolyn and one of his sisters. Judge Cabell took charge of his
wife and eldest daughter. Mrs. Clifton had hoped that her son would have
reached the city in time to have escorted herself and Catherine. When
they were all assembled in the parlor, Major Cabell brought a gentleman
up to Mrs. Clifton, whom he presented as Colonel Conyers, of the army,
leaving to Mrs. Clifton the responsibility of presenting the aristocrat
to the plebeian Kate. Mrs. Clifton did it at once, in the most natural
way in the world. And the gallant Colonel, after a few compliments,
hoped to have the honor of waiting upon Mrs. Clifton and her “lovely
charge” to the Mansion-House. Mrs. Clifton gratefully accepted his
services—and soon after, they entered the carriage, and were driven off.
This party reached their destination a full half hour before Mrs. Cabell
and family, and other ultra fashionables, who fancied that it was vulgar
to go early, and imagined that their _ton_ depended upon late hours and
other observances. Mrs. Clifton was very plainly dressed, in a black
satin with a lace scarf—Catherine very simply, in a white crape, with a
scarlet geranium twined in her black hair. A moment in the cloak-room
sufficed to re-arrange their simple toilet. They were then conducted
into the saloon. This apartment was fitted up in a somewhat different
style to those of the present day. It was illuminated by three large
hanging chandeliers, holding innumerable wax candles; and warmed by two
enormous coal fires, one at each extremity. It was already well filled
with a miscellaneous company. After their presentation to the Governor,
Colonel Conyers inquired whether they chose to join the promenade or to
take seats. Mrs. Clifton preferred the latter, and their polite escort
conducted them to a side sofa, from which they could note the entrance
of fresh guests, and watch the great circle of promenaders going round
and round in one long elliptic, three or four persons deep, in the most
stupid, treadmill monotony conceivable. Very much interested and amused
was our simple country girl, in taking observations of the various
characters passing in review before them. Here would be a dowager of
sixty, in rouge, ringlets, bare arms and a gossamer dress; here a girl
of seventeen, in a black, stiff brocade and heavy head-dress. Here comes
a stately, broad-chested, senatorial-looking man—he _looks_ the
incumbent of some high, official place—he _is_ the master tailor, of ——
street. Here comes a red-headed, red-faced, sharp-featured little man,
very quick and impatient in his motions, and very high in his voice—he
looks like an auctioneer or a constable—he is the great General ——, of
the United States Army. Here is a small, dowdy woman, all fuss and
flowers, like a barn-house actress—she is the wife of the late Governor
——. This is a queenly woman! tall, stately, dignified, with a fine,
royal countenance. Pooh! Don’t ask who she is—she is the “leading lady”
at the city theatre—plays in all the heavy tragedies, but is not even a
star. There, apart, watching and reflecting upon the scene, stands a
grave-looking individual, in a closely-fitting black suit, and
closely-cropped black hair, and set, sallow, saturnine face, looking
like an undertaker at a funeral—doubtless some famous preacher—though so
miserable a messenger of the glad tidings cannot be imagined. Preacher,
indeed! Why, he is H——, the low comedian, and he wears his hair cropped
that way by reason of the many different sorts of wigs he has to wear in
his different impersonations. To-night, he happens to be off the boards,
and enjoys the recreation of sadness and gravity. Ah! here is a
debonnair gentleman! all life! a laugh and jest, or a smile and a bow
for every one. Is he a French dancing-master? No—he is the Rev. Mr. ——,
the most popular preacher of the day. Yet these were not all. There
_was_ a small proportion of really well-dressed and dignified women and
stately, honorable men.
“How do you like the scene, Catherine?” asked Mrs. Clifton.
Kate laughed—then replied—
“I am somewhat disappointed, but very much more diverted! It seems to me
so strange that people should look, dress and behave so very
inappropriately! and that they could possibly be so very ill-dressed and
dowdy at such a great expense. I expected something very recherché and
elegant in the saloon of the Governor’s mansion. But ‘motley is the only
wear!’”
The officer laughed, gayly, and then observed—
“Why? Why did you look for something, or rather, for everything
recherché and elegant in this crowd? Because you see in the newspaper
reports of such gatherings, such phrases as ‘the beautiful Miss A——?’—by
the way, there she is—the young lady with the red hair, milk-white
complexion and little eyes; or ‘the elegant Mrs. B——?’ ‘the graceful
Mrs. C——?’ etc., etc., etc., with revised and improved accounts of their
costume, appearance, manners, etc.? Miss Kavanagh, when you have stayed
in the city longer, you will know that when a newspaper reporter and
letter writer speaks of that dowdy, but wealthy little woman, in the
flimsy, scarlet dress, as ‘the beautiful, elegant, and accomplished Mrs.
G——,’ and tells of ‘the immense (imaginary) sensation’ she made—_he_,
the reporter, is morally certain of an invitation to her private
parties.”
Kate did not like his sarcastic tone, but before she could make any sort
of reply, her attention was called to a rising excitement in the room.
Every gentleman, from the fidgety little Major General, down to the
grave and dignified low comedian; and every lady, from the ex-Governor’s
fussy widow, to the stately and self-possessed stock actress, were on
the _qui vive_. Kate, while listening and watching for the cause of the
excitement, caught a few phrases that helped to enlighten her—they were
of this sort:—“A wonder! a perfect wonder! A miracle of dark beauty.”
“The wealthiest woman in the state, but that is nothing to her marvelous
beauty.” “Did you see her as ‘_Egypt_,’ at the fancy ball?” “Her
portrait, in oil, by ——, stands in Stationers’ Hall. It has attracted
crowds.” “No—I have seen the engraving from it in ‘Beauty’s Annual’ for
this year. But I have also seen it on the tops of cigar boxes—too bad!”
“Hush! here she comes!”
Catherine turned her eyes in the direction towards which all others were
gazing. It was Georgia—dark, bright, and more beautiful and bewitching
than ever. Her dress was of lustrous black _crape-de-lise_, sprinkled
over with gold spangles, that gleamed in and out through the dark,
transparent drapery, suggesting clear, starlight night. A crowd entered
with the star-bright Circe—a crowd attended her during all her progress
through the room.
We must leave Georgia to her alluring wiles, and Catherine to her
observations, and seek Mrs. Cabell and her party. They are in the
dressing-room, and about to leave it. Only Mrs. Cabell turns again and
again to survey her form in the mirror, and re-adjust the flow of her
purple satin dress, or the wave of her white ostrich plumes. When all is
done, she turns for the last time to Carolyn, to rebuke her for not
adding a single ornament to her mourning dress of black velvet, which is
relieved only by the falls of fine Brussels lace on the neck and arms,
and the sunny ringlets falling all around her head as low as the throat.
Carolyn looks very fragile, but interesting and lovely, though she does
not know it. Major Cabell gave his right arm to his mother, and his left
to his cousin, and so, as it was now the acme of the fashionable hour,
they entered the saloon, and made their slow progress up to the upper
end, where the Governor and staff stood, to receive all comers—Mrs.
Cabell bowing and smiling to such acquaintances as she chose to
recognize in passing, until at length they stopped. A feeling of false
shame, a morbid notion that all eyes were upon her, and scrutinized the
few pits hidden under the golden curls on her temples, had caused
Carolyn to cast her eyes down, and keep them down, during the whole
progress through the room—and though her acute ears heard such murmurs
as these—“How fair she is,” “But how fragile, as if a zephyr would blow
her away”—she never fancied they were breathed of her, and never
surmised the admiration she elicited. “Governor T——, Miss Clifton, of
Clifton,” were the words that admonished Carolyn she was standing before
the great man, and must look up and curtsy. She curtsied before she
looked up, and when she raised her eyes, she saw only Archer Clifton
before her, who bowed when he met her glance! The Governor and many
others were there, but how could she see any one but Archer Clifton!
But, oh! the perversity of human nature! As soon as she met his eyes,
all the pride and scorn of her proudest, most scornful days, returned
upon her with a vengeance—all the more fiercely, ferociously, that she
believed herself a fright, and found Archer Clifton handsomer, more
dignified, higher in favor with God and man than ever! Major Cabell was
about to pass on instantly with his ladies, to give place to the next
arrivals. Returning Archer Clifton’s bow with a haughty bend, she threw
up her head and swept on with the most superb air of arrogance
imaginable. They joined the promenaders—Carolyn all the more unhappy for
her show of hauteur—the heart beneath that erected head and expanded
chest almost breaking with chagrin. Captain, now Major Clifton, stood at
the right hand of the Governor, with his eyes roving calmly over the
miscellaneous assembly, until they chanced to rest upon the stately form
of his mother when they lighted up with surprise and pleasure, and
excusing himself from his official attendance, he bowed and withdrew, to
hasten to the distant sofa, where she sat alone. Catherine, on the arm
of Colonel Conyers, was lost in the slowly revolving crowd of
promenaders. He reached Mrs. Clifton’s side, and—
“My dearest mother!”
“My dear Archer!” were the greetings exchanged between them with the
clasped hands.
“How delighted I am to see you, yet how tantalizing to meet you in this
public assembly, after so long an absence!”
“When did you reach the city, Archer?”
“Within the last half hour! Having important dispatches for the
Governor, I came at once hither.”
“I did not see you enter.”
“I came in by the private entrance, and joined his excellency’s circle
directly. But, my dearest mother! I scarcely hoped you would be in
town—how long have you been here?”
“About four days, Archer.”
Suddenly both became grave and thoughtful—they were occupied with the
same thoughts—of the calamities that had befallen mutual friends since
their last parting. They were silent—they did not like to sadden this
first meeting by referring to the mournful subject. And before either
knew of her approach, Mrs. Georgia had glided swiftly and silently up to
them. Now, Mrs. Georgia had passed and repassed Mrs. Clifton a score of
times that evening, without once noticing her. But now that Archer
Clifton sat by his mother’s side, the Circe appeared before them, dark,
resplendent, alluring as ever. She was leaning upon the arm of the
Lieutenant-Governor. Archer Clifton sprang up immediately, and greeted
her with surprise and pleasure. Dismissing her escort with a charming
smile and wave of the hand she sank gracefully, languishingly into the
seat by the side of Mrs. Clifton, and glided into her own fascinating
style of conversation. After a few minutes, Archer Clifton seemed quite
lost to everything else, in the charm of the syren’s society, until a
certain, sweet, enticing restlessness on the part of the beauty,
suggested to him the propriety of inviting her to promenade. She arose
with a bewildering smile, that quite drove his mother out of his head,
and slipped her arm through his. They joined the promenaders. In the
meantime, Kate Kavanagh, on the arm of Colonel Conyers, was moving
around in the same circle, highly amused in making observations, and
scarcely appreciating the sincere admiration of her escort, that was
apparent to every one else, especially to the correspondent of the
Fiddle-de-dee, who, in his next letter, in giving an account of the
reception, made an item of the manifest admiration of the gallant and
distinguished Colonel C——, for the beautiful and accomplished Miss K——.
Catherine at length thought that her kind patroness might be lonely, and
expressed a wish to rejoin her. In turning to retrace their steps, they
met face to face with Archer Clifton and his companion. Major Clifton
recognized the poor mountain-girl in that saloon, with a look of
supercilious surprise, and Mrs. Georgia looked calmly through her body
without seeing her at all. With a slight bow, Major Clifton passed on
with his companion. And as for Kate, her heart had a habit of standing
perfectly still in an emergency, and now it had stopped so suddenly, and
stood still so long, that she was on the verge of fainting.
“You are not well. You are wearied. You have remained on your feet too
long. Let me take you to a seat, Miss Kavanagh,” said the Colonel. With
a gasp and a shiver, Kate recovered and rejoined Mrs. Clifton. And she
permitted herself to fall into no more weakness that night. But Kate had
unconsciously betrayed her secret to the officer. And by the
interference of her good angel, this knowledge thus obtained, enabled
Colonel Conyers to do Kate a service of vital importance in after years.
“Archer is come,” said Mrs. Clifton, as Catherine took her seat.
“I know it. I met him,” replied Catherine, and both fell into silence,
for at that instant Major Clifton and the beautiful Georgia passed them.
And from that time, and so long as they sat there, again and again in
the slow revolving of the great circle of promenaders, the pair passed
and repassed them—Georgia smiling, cooing, murmuring, in her low,
alluring music—and Archer Clifton, bending over her with his brilliant
gray eyes, feeding on her lovely face, seeming to sink deeper and deeper
into the bathos of her charms, while Carolyn turned sick with jealousy,
and Catherine faint with dread, and the correspondent of the
Fiddle-de-dee made a note of the distinguished favor with which the most
beautiful Mrs. C——, the reigning belle of Richmond, received the devoirs
of her distant relative, the celebrated Major C——. Fear nothing,
Carolyn, or Catherine, Archer Clifton is not in love with his uncle’s
widow—that very relationship would repel the idea, if nothing else. But
he is not indifferent to the honor of monopolizing the reigning queen of
the ton.
“Aunt Cabell,” said Carolyn, “I cannot sit up longer. I _must_ go home.”
And Mrs. Cabell consented to gratify her wish. In fact it was growing
late, and the ultra fashionables, the last to come, and the first to
leave, were beginning to disappear. Mrs. Georgia unwillingly discovered
this fact, but she thought that at least she could adroitly secure the
services of her companion as an escort home, and detain him to any hour
in the little paradise of her own boudoir. She therefore expressed
herself ennuied, and entreated Major Clifton to conduct her to the
cloak-room. He attended her thither. And there he met again his Cousin
Carolyn. She looked so fair, so wan, so fragile, that he could not for a
moment take his eyes from her. He hastily adjusted the mantle over the
shoulders of Georgia, handed her her muff and hood, and excusing himself
for a moment, hurried back to his mother’s side.
“You have company home, madam, have you not?”
“Certainly, Archer. I should not be here without such a provision—here
comes Colonel Conyers now to attend us.”
“Good-night, then! I will see you early to-morrow! Good-night, Kate!” He
was off.
Mrs. Cabell and Carolyn, leaning on Major Cabell’s arms, reached their
carriage door. The Major dropped his cousin’s arm a moment to assist his
mother in, and to settle her in her seat. And during that moment Carolyn
felt an arm passed around her waist, and a voice whisper—
“Carolyn—my beloved cousin! my bride! am I forgiven?”
She burst into tears and dropped her proud head on his bosom,
exclaiming—
“Oh, Archer! am _I_ forgiven?”
He placed her in the carriage, and springing in past Major Cabell, took
the seat by her side, leaving the Major to follow as he could, and
forgetting the very existence of Mrs. Georgia.
Kate was close to them—she saw and heard it all. Nodding her head slowly
several times, she murmured—
“Thank God. Thank God! Oh, Merciful Father, help me to say that
sincerely. Thank God!”
Three weeks after this they were married. The ceremony was performed in
the ancient church of St. John’s on Richmond Hill—one of the oldest
places of worship on the whole continent. Mrs. Cabell would willingly
have made this event the occasion of a great deal of ostentatious
display; but the recent afflictions in the family, and the fragility of
the bride, rendered other arrangements necessary. Therefore, immediately
after the ceremony, which came off at an early hour of the morning, the
newly-married couple, taking advantage of the very fine weather,
departed for Norfolk, with the intention of sailing thence to Havana,
where, by the advice of an eminent physician, for the re-establishment
of the bride’s health, they purposed to spend the winter.
Mrs. Georgia Clifton, with all the other members of the family
connection, had, of course, been present at the marriage. And no one was
so lavish of smiles, tears, caresses, and congratulations, as the
dark-eyed syren. But when all was over, and the bridal pair had
departed, refusing the invitation of Mrs. Cabell to go home and dine
with a party of friends, she hurried to her lodgings, pushed open the
door of her luxurious boudoir, fastened it on the inside, and threw
herself down, rolling over, tearing at the carpet, and gnashing her
teeth in an agony of disappointment, jealousy and impotent rage.
But not long did the Circe of Richmond yield herself up to anguish and
despair. Christmas was approaching, when she was expected to entertain a
select number of her worshipers at White Cliffs. It was expedient that
she should go down a few days in advance of the party, to make ready for
their reception. Therefore, about five days after the marriage, she left
the city.
Mrs. Clifton remained a week longer in town, to give Catherine an
opportunity of attending a course of lectures on Moral Philosophy. And
their escort every evening was Colonel Conyers.