THE NEW HOUSE.
It was a cruel thing for Wilford Cameron to try thus to separate Katy
from the hearts which loved her so much: and, as if he felt reproached,
there was an increased tenderness in his manner toward her, particularly
as he saw how sad she was for a few days after his decision. But Katy
could not be sorry long, and in the excitement of settling the new house
her spirits rallied, and her merry laugh thrilled like a bird through
the rooms where the workmen were so busy, and where Mrs. Cameron was the
real superintendent, though there was always a show of consulting Katy,
who nevertheless was a mere cipher in the matter. In everything the
mother had her way, until it came to the room designed for Helen, and
which Mrs. Cameron was for converting into a kind of smoking or lounging
room for Wilford and his associates. Katy must not expect him to be
always as devoted to her as he had been during the winter, she said. He
had a great many bachelor friends, and now that he had a house of his
own, it was natural that he should have some place where they could
spend an hour or so with him without the restraint of ladies' society,
and this was just the room--large, airy, quiet, and so far from the
parlors that the odor of the smoke could not reach them.
"Oak and green will do nicely here," turning to Wilford, "but you must
have some very handsome cigar sets, and one or two boxes of chess. Shall
I see to that?"
Katy had submitted to much without knowing that she was submitting; but
something Bell had dropped that morning had awakened a suspicion that
possibly she was being ignored, and the wicked part of Helen would have
enjoyed the look in her eye as she said, decidedly, not to Mrs. Cameron,
but to Wilford: "I have from the very first decided this chamber for
Helen, and I cannot give it up for a smoking room. You never had one
at home. Why did you not, if it is so necessary?"
Wilford could not tell her that his mother would as soon have brought
into her house one of Barnum's shows as to have had a room set apart for
smoking, which she specially disliked; neither could he at once reply at
all, so astonished was he at this sudden flash of spirit. Mrs. Cameron
was the first to rally, and in her usual quiet tone she said: "Indeed, I
did not know that your sister was to form a part of your household. When
do you expect her?" and her cold gray eyes rested steadily upon Katy,
who never before so fully realized the distance there was between her
husband's friends and her own. But as the worm will turn when trampled
on, so Katy, though hitherto powerless to defend herself, aroused in
Helen's behalf, and in a tone as quiet and decided as that of her
mother-in-law, replied: "She will come whenever I write for her. It was
arranged from the first. Wasn't it, Wilford?" and she turned to her
husband, who, unwilling to decide between a wife he loved and a mother
whose judgment he considered infallible, affected not to hear her, and
stole from the room, followed soon by Mrs. Cameron, so that Katy was
left mistress of the field.
After that no one interfered in her arrangement of Helen's room, which,
with far less expense than Mrs. Cameron would have done, she fitted up
so cosily that Wilford pronounced it the pleasantest room in the house,
while Bell went into ecstasies over it, and even Juno might have unbent
enough to praise it, were it not that Mark Ray, who from being tacitly
claimed by Juno was frequently admitted to their counsels, had asked
the privilege of contributing to Helen's room a handsome volume of
German poetry, such as he fancied she might enjoy. So long as Mark's
attentions were not bestowed in any other quarter Juno was comparatively
satisfied, but the moment he swerved a hair's breadth from the line she
had marked out, her anger was aroused; and now, remembering his
commendations of Helen Lennox, she hated her as cordially as one jealous
girl can hate another whom she has not seen, making Katy so
uncomfortable, without knowing what was the matter, that she hailed the
morning of her exit from No. ---- as the brightest since her marriage.
It was a very happy day for Katy, and when she first sat down to dinner
in her own handsome home her face shone with a joy which even the
presence of her mother-in-law could not materially lessen. She would
rather have been alone with Wilford, it is true, but as her choice was
not consulted she submitted cheerfully, proudly taking her rightful
place at the table, and doing the honors so well that Mrs. Cameron, in
speaking of it to her daughters, acknowledged that Wilford had little to
fear if Katy always appeared as much at ease as she did that day. A
thought similar to this passed through the mind of Wilford, who was very
observant of such matters, and that night, after his mother was gone, he
warmly commended Katy, but spoiled the pleasure his commendation would
have given by telling her next, as if one thought suggested the other,
that Sybil Grandon had returned, that he saw her on Broadway, accepting
her invitation to a seat in her carriage which brought him to his door.
She had made many inquiries concerning Katy, he said, expressing a great
curiosity to see her, and saying that as she drove past the house that
morning, she was strongly tempted to waive all ceremony and run in,
knowing she should be pardoned for the sake of Auld Lang Syne, when she
was privileged to take liberties with the Camerons. All this Wilford
repeated to Katy, but he did not tell her how at the words Auld Lang
Syne, Sybil had turned her fine eyes upon him with an expression which
made him color, for he knew she was referring to the time when her name
and his were always coupled together.
Wilford would not have exchanged Katy for a dozen Sybils, but there was
about the latter a flash and sparkle very fascinating to most men, and
Wilford felt himself so much exhilarated in her society that he half
regretted leaving it, wishing as he did so that in some things Katy was
more like the brilliant woman of the world, who, flashing upon him her
most bewitching smile, leaned back in her handsome carriage with a
careless, easy abandon, while he ran up the steps of his own dwelling,
where Katy waited for him. In this state of mind her achievement at the
dinner table was exceedingly gratifying. Sybil herself could not have
done better. But alas, there were many points where Katy fell far below
this standard; so after speaking of Sybil's inquiries for his wife, he
went on to talk of Sybil herself, telling how much she was admired and
how superior she was to the majority of ladies whom Katy had met, adding
that he felt more anxious that Katy should make a favorable impression
upon her than any one of his acquaintance, as she would be sure to note
the slightest departure from her code of etiquette. How Katy hated the
words etiquette, and style and manner, wishing they might be stricken
from the language, and how she dreaded this Sybil Grandon, who seemed to
her like some ogress, instead of the charming creature she was described
to be. Thoughts of the secret picture and the dread fancy did not
trouble her now, for she was sure of Wilford's love; but she had
sometimes dreaded the return of Sybil Grandon, and now that she had
come, she felt for a moment a chill at her heart and a terror at meeting
her which she tried to shake off, succeeding at last, for perfect faith
in Wilford was to her a strong shield of defense, and her only trouble
was a fear lest she should fall in the scale of comparison which might
be instituted between herself and Mrs. Grandon.
Nestling close to Wilford, she said, half earnestly, half playfully:
"I will try not to disgrace you when I meet this Mrs. Grandon."
Then, anxious to change the conversation to something more agreeable to
herself, she began to talk of their house, thus diverting her own mind
from Sybil Grandon, who after a few days ceased to be a bugbear, Wilford
never mentioning her again, and Katy only hearing of her through Juno
and Bell, the first of whom went into raptures over her, while the
latter styled her a silly, coquettish widow, who would appear much
better to have worn her weeds a little longer, and not throw herself
quite so soon into the market. That she should of course meet her some
time, Katy knew, but she would not distress herself till the time
arrived, and so she dismissed her fears, or rather lost them in the
excitement of her new dignity as mistress of a house.
In her girlhood Katy had evinced a taste for housekeeping, which now
developed so rapidly that she won the respect of all the servants, from
the man who answered the bell to the accomplished cook, hired by Mrs.
Cameron, and who, like most accomplished cooks, was sharp and cross and
opinionated, but who did not find it easy to scold the blithe little
woman who every morning came flitting into her dominions, not asking
what they would have for dinner, as she had been led to suppose she
would, but ordering it with a matter of course air, which amused the
usually overbearing Mrs. Phillips. But when the little lady, rolling her
sleeves above her dimpled elbows and donning the clean white apron which
Phillips was reserving for afternoon, announced her intention of
surprising Wilford, who was very particular about dessert, with a
pudding such as Aunt Betsy used to make, there were signs of rebellion,
Phillips telling her bluntly that she couldn't be bothered--that it was
not a lady's place in the kitchen under foot--that the other Mrs.
Cameron never did it, and would not like it in Mrs. Wilford.
For a moment Katy paused and looked straight at Mrs. Phillips; then
without a word of reply to that worthy's remarks, said, quietly: "I have
only six eggs here--the receipt is ten. Bring me four more, please."
There was something in the blue eyes which compelled obedience, and the
dessert progressed without another word of remonstrance. But when the
door bell rang, and word came down that there were ladies in the
parlor--Juno with some one else--Phillips would not tell her of the
flour on her hair; and as Katy, after casting aside her apron and
putting down her sleeves, only glanced hastily at herself in the hall
mirror as she passed it, she appeared in the parlor with this mark upon
her curls, and greatly to her astonishment was presented to "Mrs. Sybil
Grandon," Juno explaining, that as Sybil was very anxious to see her,
and they were passing the house, she had presumed upon her privilege as
a sister and brought her in.
For a moment the room turned dark, and Katy felt that she was falling;
it was so sudden, so unexpected, and she so unprepared; but Sybil's
familiar manner soon quieted her, and she was able at last to look fully
at her visitor, finding her not as handsome as she expected, nor as
young but in all other points she had not perhaps been exaggerated.
Cultivated and self-possessed, she was still very pleasing in her
manner, making Katy feel wholly at ease by a few well-timed compliments,
which had the merit of seeming genuine, so perfect was she in the art of
deception, practicing it with so much skill that few saw through the
mask, and knew it was put on.
To Katy she was very gracious, admiring her house, admiring herself,
admiring everything, until Katy wondered how she could ever have dreaded
to meet her, laughing and chatting as familiarly as if the fashionable
woman were not criticising every movement and every act and every
feature of her face, wondering most at the flour upon her hair!
Juno wondered, too, but knowing Katy's domestic propensities, suspected
the truth, and feigning some errand with Phillips, she excused herself
for a moment and descended to the kitchen, where she was not long in
hearing about Katy's queer ways, coming where she was not needed, and
making country puddings after some heathenish aunt's rule.
"Was it Aunt Betsy?" Juno asked, her face betokening its disgust when
told that she was right, and her manner on her return to the parlor very
frigid toward Katy, who had discovered the flour on her hair, and was
laughing merrily over it, telling Sybil how it happened--how cross
Phillips was--and lastly, how "our folks" often made the pudding, and
that was why she wished to surprise Wilford with it.
There was a sarcastic smile upon Sybil's lip as she wished Mrs. Cameron
success and then departed, leaving Katy to finish the dessert, which,
when ready for the table, was certainly very inviting, and would have
tempted the appetite of any man who had not been listener to matters
not wholly conducive to his peace of mind.
On his way home Wilford had stopped at his father's, finding Juno, who
had just come in, relating the particulars of her call upon his wife,
and as she did not think it necessary to stop for him, he heard of
Katy's misdoings, and her general appearance in the presence of Sybil
Grandon, whom she entertained with a description of "our folks'"
favorite dishes, together with Aunt Betsy's receipts. This was the straw
too many, and since his marriage Wilford had not been as angry as he was
while listening to Juno, who reported Sybil's verdict on his wife, "A
domestic little body and very pretty."
Wilford did not care to have his wife domestic; he did not marry her
for that, and in a mood anything but favorable to the light, delicate
dessert Katy had prepared with so much care, he went to his luxurious
home, where Katy ran as usual to meet him, her face brimming with the
surprise she had in store for him, and herself so much excited that she
did not at first observe the cloud upon his brow, as he moodily answered
her rapid questions. But when the important moment arrived, and the
dessert was brought on, he promptly declined it, even after her
explanation that she made it herself, just to gratify and astonish him,
urging him to try it for the sake of pleasing her, if nothing more. But
Wilford was not hungry then, and even had he been, he would have chosen
anything before a pudding formed from a receipt of Betsy Barlow, so the
dessert was untasted even by Katy herself, who, knowing now that
something had gone wrong, sat fighting back her tears until the servant
left the room, when she timidly asked: "What is it, Wilford? What makes
you seem so--". She would not say cross, and substituted "queer,"
while Wilford plunged at once into the matter by saying, "Juno tells me
she called here this afternoon with Mrs. Grandon."
"Yes, I forgot to mention it," Katy answered, feeling puzzled to know
why that should annoy her husband; but his next remarks disclosed the
whole, and Katy's tears flowed fast as Wilford asked what he supposed
Mrs. Grandon thought, to see his wife looking as if fresh from the flour
barrel, and to hear her talk about Aunt Betsy's receipts and our folks.
"That is a bad habit of yours, Katy," he continued, "one of which I wish
you to break yourself, if possible. I have never spoken to you directly
on the subject before, but it annoys me exceedingly, inasmuch as it is
an indication of low breeding."
There was no answer from Katy, whose heart was too full to speak, and
so Wilford went on: "Our servants were selected by mother with a direct
reference to your youth and inexperience, and it is not necessary for
you to frequent the kitchen, or, indeed, to go there oftener than once a
week. Let them come to you for orders, not you go to them. Neither need
you speak quite so familiarly to them, treating them almost as if they
were your equals. Try to remember your true position, that whatever you
may have been you are now Mrs. Wilford Cameron, equal to any lady in New
York."
They were in the library now, and the soft May breeze came stealing
through the open window, stirring the fleecy curtain and blowing across
the tasteful bouquet which Katy had arranged; but Katy was too wretched
to care for her surroundings. It was the first time Wilford had ever
spoken to her just in this way, and his manner hurt her more than his
words, making her feel as if she were an ignorant, ill-bred creature,
whom he had raised to a position she did not know how to fill. It was
cruel thus to repay her attempts to please, and so, perhaps, Wilford
thought, as with folded arms he sat looking at her weeping so bitterly
upon the sofa; but he was too indignant to make any concession then, and
he suffered her to weep in silence until he remembered that his mother
had requested him to bring her around that evening, as they were
expecting a few of Juno's friends, and among them Sybil Grandon. If Katy
went he wished her to look her best, and he unbent so far as to try to
check her tears. But Katy could not stop, and she wept so passionately
that Wilford's anger subsided, leaving only tenderness and pity for the
wife he tried so hard to soothe, telling her he was sorry, and suing for
forgiveness, until the sobbing ceased, and Katy lay passively in his
arms, her face so white and the dark rings about her eyes showing so
distinctly that Wilford did not press her when she declined his mother's
invitation. He could go, she said, urging so many reasons why he
should, that, for the first time since their marriage, he left her
alone, and went to where Sybil Grandon smiled her sunniest smile, and
put forth her most persuasive powers to keep him at her side, expressing
so much regret that he did not bring his charming little wife, who
completely won her heart, she was so childlike and simple-hearted,
laughing so merrily when she discovered the flour on her hair, but not
seeming to mind it in the least. Really, she did not see how it happened
that he was fortunate enough to win such a domestic treasure. Where did
he find her?
If Sybil Grandon meant this to be complimentary it was not received as
such, Wilford almost grating his teeth with vexation as he listened to
it, and feeling doubly mortified with Katy, whom he found waiting for
him, when at a late hour he left the society of Sybil Grandon and
repaired to his home.
To Katy the time of his absence had seemed an age, for her thoughts had
been busy with the past, gathering up every incident connected with her
married life since she came to New York, and deducing from them the
conclusion that "Wilford's folks" were ashamed of her, and that Wilford
himself might perhaps become so, if he were not already. That would be
worse than death itself, and the darkest hours she had ever known were
those she spent alone that night, sobbing so violently as to bring on a
racking headache, which showed itself upon her face and touched Wilford
at once.
Sybil Grandon was forgotten in those moments of contrition, when he
ministered so tenderly to his suffering wife, whom he felt that he had
wronged. But somehow he could not tell her so then. It was not natural
for him to confess his errors. There had already been a struggle between
his duty and his pride when he had done so, and now the latter
conquered, especially as Katy, grown more calm, began to take the
censure to herself, lamenting her shortcomings, and promising to do
better, even to the imitating of Sybil Grandon, if that would make him
forget the past and love her as before.
Wilford could accord forgiveness far more graciously than he could ask
it, and so peace was restored again, and Katy's face next day looked
bright and happy when seen in her new carriage, which took her down
Broadway to Stewart's, where she encountered Sybil Grandon, and with her
Juno Cameron.
From the latter Katy instinctively shrank, but she could not resist the
former, who greeted her so familiarly that Katy readily forgave her the
pain of which she had been the cause, and could even speak of her to
Wilford without a pang when he next came home to dinner. Still she could
not overcome her dread of meeting her, and she grew more and more averse
to mingling in society, where she might do many things to mortify her
husband or his family, and thus provoke a scene she hoped never again to
pass through.
"Oh, if Helen were only here," she thought, as she began to experience a
sensation of loneliness she had never felt before.
But Helen was not there, nor yet coming there at present. One word from
Wilford had settled that, convincing Katy that it was better to wait
until the autumn, inasmuch as they were going so soon to Saratoga and
Newport, which Katy had so much wished to visit, but from which she now
shrank, especially after she knew that Mrs. Cameron and Juno were to be
of the party, and probably Sybil Grandon. Katy did not dislike the
latter, but she was never quite easy in her presence, and was conscious
of appearing to disadvantage whenever they were together, while she
could not deny to herself that since Sybil's return Wilford had not been
quite the same as before. In company he was more attentive than ever,
but at home he was sometimes moody and silent, while Katy strove in vain
to ascertain the cause.
They were not as happy in the new home as she had expected to be, but
the fault did not lie with Katy. She performed well her part, and more,
taking upon her young shoulders the whole of the burden which her
husband should have helped her bear. Housekeeping far more than boarding
brings out a husband's nature, for whereas in the latter case one
rightfully demands the services for which he pays, in the former he is
sometimes expected to do and think, and even wait upon himself. But this
was not Wilford's nature. The easy, indolent life he had led so long as
a petted son of a partial mother unfitted him for care, and he was as
much a boarder in his own home as he had ever been in the hotels in
Paris, thoughtlessly requiring of Katy more than he should have
required, so that Bell was not far from right when in her journal she
described her sister-in-law as "a little servant whose feet were never
supposed to be tired, and whose wishes were never consulted." It is true
Bell had put it rather strongly, but the spirit of what she said was
right, Wilford seldom considering Katy, or allowing her wishes to
interfere with his own plans, while accustomed to every possible
attention from his mother, he exacted the same from his wife, whose life
was not one of unmixed happiness, notwithstanding that every letter home
bore assurance to the contrary.