There was no happier couple in all Houston than George W. St. Bibbs
and his wife before the shadow of the tempter crossed their path. It
is remarkable how the tempter always comes up so his shadow will fall
across one's path, isn't it? It seems as if a tempter who knew his
business would either approach on the other side or select a cloudy
day for crossing people's paths. But, we digress.
The St. Bibbses lived in a cosy and elegantly furnished cottage, and
had everything that could be procured on credit. They had two charming
little girls named Dolly and Polly.
George St. Bibbs loved fashionable society and his wife was domestic
in her ways, so she had made him move to Houston, so that he would not
have a chance to gratify his tastes. However, George still went to
functions, and things of that kind, and left his wife at home.
One night there was to be a very high-toned blowout by society people,
gotten up by the Business League and the Daughters of the Survivors of
the Confederate Reunion.
After George had left, his wife looked into her little hand mirror and
said to herself:
"I'll bet a dollar there isn't a lady at that ball that stacks up half
as well as I do when I fix up."
Then an idea struck her.
She rang for her maid and told her to bring a cup of hot tea, and then
she dressed in a magnificent evening dress, left the maid to look
after Dolly and Polly and got on the street car and went to the ball.
George was at the ball enjoying himself very much. All the tony people
were there, and music's voluptuous swell rose like everything, and
soft eyes looked love to eyes that spake again, and all that sort of
thing.
Among the guests was the Vicomte Carolus de Villiers, a distinguished
French nobleman, who had been forced to leave Paris on account of some
political intrigue, and who now worked on a large strawberry farm near
Alvin.
The viscount stood near a portiere picking his teeth, when he saw Mrs.
St. Bibbs enter.
He was at her side in a moment, and had written his name opposite hers
for every dance.
George looked over and saw them, and gasped in surprise: "Jerusalem,
that's Molly!"
He leaned against a velvet cul-de-sac near the doorway and watched
them. Mrs. St. Bibbs was the belle of the evening. Everybody crowded
about her, and the viscount leaned over her and talked in his most
engaging manner, fanning her with an old newspaper, as she smiled
brightly upon him, a brilliant stream of wit, persiflage and repartee
falling from her lips.
"_Mon dieu!_" said the viscount to himself, as his ardent gaze rested
upon her, "I wish I knew who she is."
At supper Mrs. St. Bibbs was the life of the gang. She engaged in a
witty discussion with the brightest intellects around the table,
completely overwhelming the boss joshers of the town. She conversed
readily with gents from the wards, speaking their own dialect, and
even answered without hesitation a question put to her by a man who
had a sister attending the State University.
George could scarcely believe that this fascinating, brilliant woman
of the world was the quiet little wife he had left at home that
evening.
When the ball was over and the musicians had been stood off, George
went up to his wife, feeling ashamed and repentant.
"Molly," he said, "forgive me. I didn't know how beautiful and gay you
could be in swell society. The next time our Longfellow Literary
Coterie gives a fish fry at the Hook and Ladder Company Hall I'll take
you along."
Mrs. St. Bibbs took her husband's arm with a sweet smile.
"All right, George," she said, "I just wanted you to see that this
town can't put up no society shindigs that are too high up for me to
tackle. I once spent two weeks in Galveston, and I generally catch on
to what's proper as quick as anybody."
At present there are no two society people in town more sought after
and admired than George St. Bibbs and his accomplished wife.
(_Houston Daily Post_, Monday morning, May 18, 1896.)