KATY.
For nearly four months Katy had been in New York, drinking deep draughts
from the cup of folly and fashion held so constantly to her lips; but
she cloyed of it at last, and what at first had been so eagerly grasped,
began, from daily repetition, to grow insipid and dull. To be the belle
of every place, to know that her dress, her style, and even the fashion
of her hair, was copied and admired, was gratifying to her, because she
knew how much it pleased her husband, who was never happier or prouder
than when, with Katy on his arm, he entered some crowded parlor and
heard the buzz of admiration as it circled around, while Katy,
simple-hearted and guileless still, smiled and blushed like a little
child, wondering at the attentions lavished upon her, and attributing
them mostly to her husband, whose position she thoroughly understood,
marveling more and more that he should have chosen her to be his wife.
That he had so honored her made her love him with a strange kind of
grateful, clinging love, which as yet would acknowledge no fault in him,
no wrong, no error; and if ever a shadow did cloud her heart, she was
the one to blame, not Wilford; he was right--he the idol she
worshiped--he the one for whose sake she tried so hard to drop her
country ways and conform to the rules his mother and sister taught,
submitting with the utmost good-nature to what Bell in her journal had
called the drill, but it must be confessed not succeeding very well in
imitating Juno. Katy could hardly be other than her own easy, graceful
self, and though the drills had their effect, and taught her many
things, they could not divest her of that natural, playful, airy manner
which so charmed the city people and made her the reigning belle. As
Marian Hazleton had predicted, others than her husband had spoken words
of praise in Katy's ear; but such was her nature that the shafts of
flattery glanced aside, leaving her unharmed, so that her husband,
though sometimes startled and disquieted, had no cause for jealousy,
enjoying Katy's success far more than she did herself, urging her out
when she would rather have stayed at home, and evincing so much
annoyance if she ventured to remonstrate that she gave it up at last
and floated on with the tide.
Mrs. Cameron had at first been greatly shocked at Katy's want of
propriety, looking on aghast when she wound her arms around Wilford's
neck, or sat upon his knee; but to the elder Cameron the sight was a
pleasant one, bringing back sunny memories of a summer time years ago,
when he was young, and a fair bride had for a few brief weeks made this
earth a paradise to him. But fashion had entered his Eden--that summer
time was gone, and only the dim leaves of autumn lay where the buds
which promised so much had been. The girlish bride was a stately matron
now, doing nothing amiss, but making all her acts conform to a
prescribed rule of etiquette, and frowning majestically upon the
frolicsome, impulsive Katy, who had crept so far into the heart of
the eccentric man that he always found the hours of her absence long,
listening intently for the sound of her bounding footsteps, and feeling
that her coming to his household had infused into his veins a better,
healthier life than he had known for years. Katy was very dear to him,
and he felt a thrill of pain, while a shadow lowered on his brow when
first the toning down process commenced. He had heard them talk about
it, and in his wrath he had hurled a cut-glass goblet upon the marble
hearth, breaking it in atoms, while he called them a pair of precious
fools, and Wilford a bigger one because he suffered it. So long as his
convalescence lasted, he was some restraint upon his wife, but when he
was well enough to resume his duties in his Wall Street office, there
was nothing in the way, and Katy's education progressed accordingly. For
Wilford's sake, Katy would do anything, and as from some things he had
dropped she guessed that her manner was not quite what suited him, she
submitted to much which would otherwise have been excessively annoying.
But she was growing tired now, and it told upon her face, which was
whiter than when she came to New York, while her figure was, if
possible, slighter and more airy; but this only enhanced her loveliness,
Wilford thought, and so he paid no heed to her complaints of weariness,
but kept her in the circle which welcomed her so warmly, and would have
missed her so much.
Little by little it had come to Katy that she was not quite as
comfortable in her husband's family as she would be in a house of her
own. The constant watch kept over her by Mrs. Cameron and Juno irritated
and fretted her, making her wonder what was the matter, and why she
should so often feel lonely and desolate when surrounded by every luxury
which wealth could purchase. "It is his folks," she always said to
herself when cogitating upon the subject. "Alone with Wilford I shall
feel as light and happy as I used to do in Silverton."
And so Katy caught eagerly at the prospect of a release from the
restraint of No. ----, seeming so anxious that Wilford, almost before he
was aware of it himself, became the owner of one of the most desirable
situations on Madison Square; and Katy was the envy of the belles, who
had copied and imitated her, even to the cutting off their hair, which
fashion may be fairly said to have originated from Katy herself, whose
short curls had ceased to be obnoxious to the fastidious Mrs. Cameron,
for Juno had tried the effect, looking, as Bell said, "like a fool,"
while Juno would have given much to have again the long black tresses,
the cutting of which did not make her look like Katy. Of all the
household, after Katy, Juno was perhaps the only one glad of the new
house. It would be a change for herself, for she meant to spend much
of her time on Madison Square, where everything was to be on the most
magnificent scale. Fortunately for Katy, she knew nothing of Juno's
intentions and built many a castle of her new home, where mother could
come with Helen and Dr. Grant. Somehow she never saw Uncle Ephraim, nor
his wife, nor yet Aunt Betsy there. She knew how out of place they would
appear, and how they would annoy Wilford: but surely to her mother and
Helen there could be no objection, and when she first went over the
house, she designated mentally this room as mother's, and another one as
Helen's, thinking how each should be fitted up with direct reference to
their tastes, Helen's containing a great many books, while her mother's
should have easy-chairs and lounges, with a host of drawers for holding
things. And Wilford heard it all, making no reply, but considering how
he could manage best so as to have no scene, for he had not the
slightest intention of inviting either Mrs. Lennox or Helen to visit
him, much less to become a part of his household. That he did not marry
Katy's relatives was a fact as fixed as the laws of the Medes and
Persians, and Katy's anticipations were answering no other purpose than
to divert her mind for the time being, keeping her bright and cheerful.
Very pleasant indeed were the pictures Katy drew of the new house where
Helen was to come, but pleasanter far were her pictures of that visit to
Silverton, to occur in April, and about which she thought so much,
dreaming of it many a night, and waking in the morning with the belief
that she had actually been where the young buds were swelling and the
fresh grass was springing by the door. Poor Katy, how much she thought
about that visit when she should see them all and go again with Uncle
Ephraim down into the meadows, making believe she was Katy Lennox
still--when she could climb the ladder in the barn after new-laid eggs,
or steal across the fields to Linwood, talking with Morris as she used
to talk in the days which seemed so long ago. Morris she feared was not
liking her as well as of old, thinking her very frivolous and silly, for
he had only written her one short note in reply to the letter she had
sent, telling him of the opera, the parties she attended, and the gay,
happy life she led, for to him she would not then confess that in her
cup of joy there was a single bitter dreg. All was bright and fair, she
said, and Morris had replied that he was glad. "But do not forget that
death can find you even there amid your splendor, or that after death
the judgment comes, and then what shall it profit you if you gain the
whole world and lose your own soul."
These words had rung in Katy's ears for many a day, following her to
the dance and to the opera, where even the music was drowned by the
echo of the words, "lose your own soul." But the sting grew less and
less, till Katy no longer felt it, and now was only anxious to talk with
Morris and convince him that she was not as thoughtless as he might
suppose, that she still remembered his teachings, remembered the Sunday
school and the little church in the valley, preferring it to the
handsome, aristocratic house where she went with the Camerons once on
every Sunday, and would willingly go twice if Wilford would go with her.
But the Camerons were merely fashionable churchgoers, and so their
afternoons were spent at home, Katy enjoying them vastly because she
usually had Wilford all to herself in her own room, a thing which did
not often occur during the weekdays.
There was a kind of peace to be made with Helen, too, Katy feared; for
Helen had sent back the diamond ring, saying it was not suitable for
her, but never hinting that she had drawn from Morris the inference that
Wilford was not well pleased at having his wife thus dispose of his
costly presents. Katy had cried when she received the ring, feeling that
something was wrong and longing so much for the time when she could make
it right.
"One more week and then it is April," she said to Wilford one evening
after they had retired to their room, and she was talking of Silverton.
"I guess I had better go about the tenth. Shall you stay as long as I
do?"
Wilford bit his lip, and after a moment replied:
"I have been talking with mother, and we think April is not a good time
for you to be in the country; it is so wet and cold. You had better not
till summer, and then I want you here to help order our furniture."
"Oh, Wilford," and Katy's voice trembled, for from past experience
she knew that for Wilford to object to her plans was equivalent to
a refusal, and her heart throbbed with disappointment as she tried
to listen while Wilford urged many reasons why she should not go,
convincing her at last that of all times for visiting Silverton spring
was the worst, that summer or autumn were better, and that it was her
duty to remain where she was until such time as he saw fit for her to
do otherwise.
This was the meaning of what he said, and though his manner was guarded
and his words kind, they were very conclusive, and with one gasping sob
Katy gave up Silverton, charging it more to Mrs. Cameron than to
Wilford, and writing next day to Helen that she could not come just
then, but after she was settled they might surely expect her.
With a bitter pang Helen read this letter to the three women who had so
much anticipated Katy's visit, and each of whom cried quietly over her
disappointment, while even Uncle Ephraim went back to his work that
afternoon with a sad, heavy heart, for now his labor was not lightened
by thoughts of Katy's being there so soon.
"Please God she may come to us some time," he said, pausing beneath the
butternut in the meadow, and remembering just how Katy looked on that
first day of her return from Canandaigua, when she sat on the flat stone
while he piled up the hay and talked with her of different paths through
life, one of which she must surely tread.
She had said, "I will choose the straight and pleasant," and some would
think she had; but Uncle Ephraim was not so sure, and leaning against a
tree, he asked silently that, whether he ever saw his darling again or
not, God would care for her and keep her unspotted from the world.