polite reception from the lady of the mansion, an indolent,
good-natured, insipid woman, the chief business of whose life was dress
and company. Mr. Brantley had purchased a large and handsome house in
the western part of the town, to which the family were to remove in the
course of the autumn, and it was Mrs. Brantley's intention, when they
were settled in their new and elegant establishment, to get into a
higher circle, and to have weekly _soirées_. To make her parties the
more attractive, she was desirous of engaging some very pretty young
lady (a stranger with a new face) to pass the winter with her. She had
but one child, a pert, forward girl, about fourteen, thin, pale, and
seeming "as if she suffered a great deal in order to look pretty." She
sat, stood, and moved, as if in constant pain from the tightness of her
corsets, the smallness of her sleeve-holes, and the narrowness of her
shoes. Her hair, having been kept long during the whole period of her
childhood, was exhausted with incessant tying, brushing, and curling,
and she was already obliged to make artificial additions to it. It was
at this time a mountain of bows, plaits, and puffs; and her costume was
in every respect that of a woman of twenty. She was extremely anxious to
"come out," as it is called, but her father insisted on her staying in,
till she had finished her education; and her mother had been told that
it was very impolitic to allow young ladies to "appear in society" at
too early an age, as they were always supposed to be older than they
really were, and therefore would be the sooner considered _passé_.
After tea, Mrs. Brantley reclined herself idly in one of the
rocking-chairs, Mr. Brantley retired to the back parlour to read
undisturbed the evening papers, and Augusta took up some bead-work,
while Laura looked over the Souvenirs with which the centre-table was
strewed.
"How happy you must be, Miss Brantley," said Laura, "to have it in your
power to read so many new books!"
"As to reading," replied Augusta, "I never have any time to spare for
that purpose; what with my music, and my dancing, and my lessons in
French conversation, and my worsted-work, and my bead-work; then I have
every day to go out shopping, for I always _will_ choose everything for
myself. Mamma has not the least idea of my taste; at least, she never
remembers it. And then there is always some business with the
mantua-makers and milliners. And I have so many morning visits to pay
with mamma--and in the afternoon I am generally so tired that I can do
nothing but put on a wrapper, and throw myself on the bed, and sleep
till it is time to dress for evening."
"Oh!" thought Laura Lovel, "how differently do we pass our time at
Rosebrook!--Is not this a beautiful engraving?" she continued, holding
one of the open Souvenirs towards Augusta.
"Yes--pretty enough," replied Augusta, scarcely turning her head to look
at it.--"Mamma, do not you think I had better have my green pelerine cut
in points rather than in scollops?"
"I think," replied Mrs. Brantley, "that scollops are the prettiest."
"Really, mamma," said Augusta, petulantly, "it is very peculiar in you
to say so, when you ought to know that scollops have had their day, and
that points have come round again."
"Very well, then, my love," replied Mrs. Brantley, indolently, "consult
your own taste."
"That I always do," said Augusta, half aside to Laura, who, addressing
herself to Mrs. Brantley, made some inquiry about the last new novel.
"I cannot say that I have read it," answered Mrs. Brantley; "at least, I
don't know that I have. Augusta, my love, do you recollect if you have
heard me say anything about the last new book--the--a--the--what is it
you call it, Miss Lovel?"
"La! mamma," said Augusta, "I should as soon expect you to write a book
as to read one."
There was a pause for a minute or two. Augusta then leaning back towards
her mother, exclaimed, "Upon second thoughts, I think I will have the
green pelerine scolloped, and the blue one pointed. But the points
shall be squared at the ends--on that I am determined."
Laura now took up a volume of the juvenile annual, entitled the Pearl,
and said to Augusta, "You have most probably a complete set of the
Pearl."
"After all, mamma," pursued Augusta, "butterfly bows are much prettier
than shell-bows. What were you saying just now, Miss Lovel, about my
having a set of pearls?--you may well ask;"--looking spitefully towards
the back-parlour, in which her father was sitting. "Papa holds out that
he will not give me a set till I am eighteen; and as to gold chains, and
corals, and cornelians, I am sick of them, and I won't wear them at all;
so you see me without any ornaments whatever, which you must think very
peculiar."
Laura had tact enough to perceive that any further attempt at a
conversation on books would be unavailing; and she made some inquiry
about the annual exhibition of pictures at the Athenæum.
"I believe it is a very good one," replied Mrs. Brantley. "We stopped
there one day on our way to dine with some friends out of town. But as
the carriage was waiting, and the horses were impatient, we only stayed
a few minutes, just long enough to walk round."
"Oh! yes, mamma," cried Augusta; "and don't you recollect we saw Miss
Darford there in a new dress of lavender-coloured grenadine, though
grenadines have been over these hundred years. And there was pretty Mrs.
Lenham, as the gentlemen call her, in a puce-coloured italianet, though
italianets have been out for ages. And don't you remember Miss Grover's
canary-coloured reps bonnet, that looked as if it had been made in the
ark. The idea of any one wearing reps! a thing that has not been seen
since the flood! Only think of reps!"
Laura Lovel wondered what _reps_ could possibly be. "Now I talk of
bonnets," pursued Augusta; "pray, mamma, did you tell Miss Pipingcord
that I would have my Tuscan Leghorn trimmed with the lilac and green
riband, instead of the blue and yellow?"
"Indeed," replied Mrs. Brantley, "I found your cousin Mary so extremely
ill this afternoon when I went to see her, and my sister so very uneasy
on her account, that I absolutely forgot to call at the milliner's, as I
had promised you."
"Was there ever anything so vexatious!" exclaimed Augusta, throwing
down her bead-work. "Really, mamma, there is no trusting you at all. You
never remember to do anything you are desired." And flying to the bell,
she rang it with violence.
"I could think of nothing but poor Mary's danger," said Mrs. Brantley,
"and the twenty-five leeches that I saw on her forehead."
"Dreadful!" ejaculated Augusta. "But you might have supposed that the
leeches would do her good, as, of course, they will. Here, William,"
addressing the servant-man that had just entered, "run as if you were
running for your life to Miss Pipingcord, the milliner, and tell her
upon no account whatever to trim Miss Brantley's Tuscan Leghorn with the
blue and yellow riband that was decided on yesterday. Tell her I have
changed my mind, and resolved upon the lilac and green. Fly as if you
had not another moment to live, or Miss Pipingcord will have already
trimmed the bonnet with the blue and yellow."
"And then," said Mrs. Brantley, "go to Mrs. Ashmore's, and inquire how
Miss Mary is this evening."
"Why, mamma," exclaimed Augusta, "aunt Ashmore lives so far from Miss
Pipingcord's, that it will be ten or eleven o'clock before William gets
back, and I shall be all that time on thorns to know if she has not
already disfigured my bonnet with the vile blue and yellow."
"Yesterday," said Mrs. Brantley, "you admired that very riband
extremely."
"So I did," replied Augusta, "but I have been thinking about it since,
and, as I tell you, I have changed my mind. And now that I have set my
heart upon the lilac and green, I absolutely detest the blue and
yellow."
"But I am really very anxious to know how Mary is to-night," said Mrs.
Brantley.
"Oh!" replied Augusta, "I dare say the leeches have relieved her. And if
they have not, no doubt Dr. Warren will order twenty-five more--or
something else that will answer the purpose. She is in very good
hands--I am certain that in the morning we shall hear she is
considerably better. At all events, I _will not_ wear the hateful blue
and yellow riband.--William, what are you standing for?"
The man turned to leave the room, but Mrs. Brantley called him back.
"William," said she, "tell one of the women to go to Mrs. Ashmore's and
inquire how Miss Mary is."
"Eliza and Matilda are both out," said William, "and Louisa is crying
with the toothache, and steaming her face over hot yerbs. I guess she
won't be willing to walk so far in the night-air, just out of the
steam."
"William," exclaimed Augusta, stamping with her foot, "don't stand here
talking, but go at once; there's not a moment to lose. Tell Miss
Pipingcord if she _has_ put on that horrid riband, she must take it off
again, and charge it in the bill, if she pretends she can't afford to
lose it, as I dare say she will; and tell her to be sure and send the
bonnet home early in the morning--I am dying to see it."
To all this, Laura Lovel had sat listening in amazement, and could
scarcely conceive the possibility of the mind of so young a girl being
totally absorbed in things that concerned nothing but external
appearance. She had yet to learn that a passion for dress, when
thoroughly excited in the female bosom, and carried to excess, has a
direct tendency to cloud the understanding, injure the temper, and
harden the heart.
Till the return of William, Augusta seemed indeed to be on thorns. At
last he came, and brought with him the bonnet, trimmed with the blue and
yellow. Augusta snatched it out of the bandbox, and stood speechless
with passion, and William thus delivered his message from the
milliner:--
"Miss Pippincod sends word that she had riband'd the bonnet afore I come
for it--she says she has used up all her laylock green for another
lady's bonnet, as chose it this very afternoon; and she guesses you
won't stand no chance of finding no more of it, if you sarch Boston
through; and she says she shew you all her ribands yesterday, and you
chose the yellow blue yourself, and she han't got no more ribands as
you'd be likely to like. Them's her very words."
"How I hate milliners!" exclaimed Augusta; and ringing for the maid that
always assisted her in undressing, she flounced out of the room and went
to bed.
"Miss Lovel," said Mrs. Brantley, smiling, "you must excuse dear
Augusta. She is extremely sensitive about everything, and that is the
reason she is apt to give way to these little fits of irritation."
Laura retired to her room, grieving to think how unamiable a young girl
might be made, by the indulgence of an inordinate passion for dress.
Augusta's cousin Mary did not die.
The following day was to have been devoted to shopping, and to making
some additions to the simple wardrobe of Laura Lovel, for which purpose
her father had given her as much money as he could possibly spare. But
it rained till late in the afternoon, and Mrs. Brantley's coach was out
of order, and the Brantleys (like many other families that kept
carriages of their own) could not conceive the possibility of _hiring_ a
similar vehicle upon any exigency whatever.
It is true that the present case was in reality no exigency at all; but
Mrs. Brantley and her daughter seemed to consider it as such, from the
one watching the clouds all day as she sat at the window, in her
rocking-chair, and the other wandering about like a troubled spirit,
fretting all the time, and complaining of the weather. Laura got through
the hours very well, between reading Souvenirs (almost the only books in
the house) and writing a long letter to inform her family of her safe
arrival, and to describe her journey. Towards evening, a coach was heard
to stop at the door, and there was a violent ringing, followed by a loud
sharp voice in the entry, inquiring for Mrs. Brantley, who started from
her rocking-chair, as Augusta exclaimed, "Miss Frampton!--I know 'tis
Miss Frampton!" The young lady rushed into the hall, while her mother
advanced a few steps, and Mr. Brantley threw down his paper, and
hastened into the front-parlour with a look that expressed anything but
satisfaction.
There was no time for comment or preparation. The sound was heard of
baggage depositing, and in a few moments Augusta returned to the
parlour, hanging lovingly on the arm of a lady in a very handsome
travelling dress, who flew to Mrs. Brantley and kissed her familiarly,
and then shook hands with her husband, and was introduced by him to our
heroine.
Miss Frampton was a fashionable-looking woman, of no particular age. Her
figure was good, but her features were the contrary, and the expression
of her eye was strikingly bad. She had no relations, but she talked
incessantly of her _friends_--for so she called every person whom she
knew by sight, provided always that they were _presentable_ people. She
had some property, on the income of which she lived, exercising close
economy in everything but dress. Sometimes she boarded out, and
sometimes she billeted herself on one or other of these said friends,
having no scruples of delicacy to deter her from eagerly availing
herself of the slightest hint that might be construed into the semblance
of an invitation. In short, she was assiduous in trying to get
acquainted with everybody from whom anything was to be gained,
flattering them to their faces, though she abused them behind their
backs. Still, strange to tell, she had succeeded in forcing her way into
the outworks of what is called society. She dressed well, professed to
know everybody, and to go everywhere, was _au fait_ of all the gossip of
the day, and could always furnish ample food for the too prevailing
appetite for scandal. Therefore, though every one disliked Miss
Frampton, still every one tolerated her; and though a notorious
calumniator, she excited so much fear, that it was generally thought
safer to keep up some slight intercourse with her, than to affront her
by throwing her off entirely.
Philadelphia was her usual place of residence; but she had met the
Brantley family at the Saratoga Springs, had managed to accompany them
to New York on their way home, had boarded at Bunker's during the week
they stayed at that house, had assisted them in their shopping
expeditions, and professed a violent regard for Augusta, who professed
the same for her. Mrs. Brantley's slight intimation "that she should be
glad to see her if ever she came to Boston," Miss Frampton had now taken
advantage of, on pretext of benefiting by change of air. Conscious of
her faded looks, but still hoping to pass for a young woman, she
pretended always to be in precarious health, though of this there was
seldom any proof positive.
On being introduced to Laura Lovel, as to a young lady on a visit to the
family, Miss Frampton, who at once considered her an interloper,
surveyed our heroine from head to foot, with something like a sneer, and
exchanged significant glances with Augusta.
As soon as Miss Frampton had taken her seat, "My dear Mrs. Brantley,"
said she, "how delighted I am to see you! And my sweet Augusta, too! Why
she has grown a perfect sylph!"
After hearing this, Augusta could not keep her seat five minutes
together, but was gliding and flitting about all the remainder of the
evening, and hovering round Miss Frampton's chair.
Miss Frampton continued, "Yes, my dear Mrs. Brantley, my health has, as
usual, been extremely delicate. My friends have been seriously alarmed
for me, and all my physicians have been quite miserable on my account.
Dr. Dengue has been seen driving through the streets like a madman, in
his haste to get to me. Poor man!--you must have heard the report of
his suffering Mrs. Smith's baby to die with the croup, from neglecting
to visit it, which, if true, was certainly in very bad taste. However,
Dr. Dengue is one of my oldest friends, and a most charming man."
"But, as I was saying, my health still continued delicate,
and excitement was unanimously recommended by the medical
gentlemen--excitement and ice-cream. And as soon as this was known in
society, it is incredible how many parties were made for me, and how
many excursions were planned on my account. I had carriages at my door
day and night. My friends were absolutely dragging me from each other's
arms. Finally they all suggested entire change of air, and total change
of scene. So I consented to tear myself awhile from my beloved
Philadelphia, and pay you my promised visit in Boston."
"We are much obliged to you," said Mrs. Brantley. "And really," pursued
Miss Frampton, "I had so many engagements on my hands, that I had fixed
five different days for starting, and disappointed five different
escorts. My receiving-room was like a levee every morning at visiting
hours, with young gentlemen of fashion, coming to press their services,
as is always the case when it is reported in Philadelphia that Miss
Frampton has a disposition to travel. A whole procession of my friends
accompanied me to the steamboat, and I believe I had more than a dozen
elegant smelling-bottles presented to me--as it is universally known how
much I always suffer during a journey, being deadly sick on the water,
and in a constant state of nervous agitation while riding."
"And who did you come with at last?" asked Mrs. Brantley.
"Oh! with my friends the Twamberleys, of your city," replied Miss
Frampton. "The whole family had been at Washington, and as soon as I
heard they were in Philadelphia on their return home, I sent to
inquire--that is, or rather, I mean, _they_ sent to inquire as soon as
they came to town, and heard that I intended visiting Boston--they sent
to inquire if I would make them happy by joining their party."
"Well," observed Mr. Brantley, "I cannot imagine how you got along with
all the Twamberleys. Mr. Twamberley, besides being a clumsy, fat man,
upwards of seventy years old, and lame with the gout, and nearly quite
deaf, and having cataracts coming on both eyes, is always obliged to
travel with his silly young wife, and the eight children of her first
husband, and I should think he had enough to do in taking care of
himself and them. I wonder you did not prefer availing yourself of the
politeness of some of the single gentlemen you mentioned."
"Oh!" replied Miss Frampton, "any of them would have been too happy, as
they politely expressed it, to have had the pleasure of waiting on me to
Boston. Indeed, I knew not how to make a selection, being unwilling to
offend any of them by a preference. And then again, it is always in
better taste for young ladies to travel, and, indeed, to go everywhere,
under the wing of a married woman. I dote upon chaperones; and by coming
with this family, I had Mrs. Twamberley to matronize me. I have just
parted with them all at their own door, where they were set down."
Mr. Brantley smiled when he thought of Mrs. Twamberley (who had been
married to her first husband at fifteen, and was still a blooming
girlish looking woman) matronizing the faded Miss Frampton, so evidently
by many years her senior.
Laura Lovel, though new to the world, had sufficient good sense and
penetration to perceive almost immediately, that Miss Frampton was a
woman of much vanity and pretension, and that she was in the habit of
talking with great exaggeration; and in a short time she more than
suspected that many of her assertions were arrant falsehoods--a fact
that was well known to all those numerous persons that Miss Frampton
called her _friends_.
Tea was now brought in, and Miss Frampton took occasion to relate in
what manner she had discovered that the famous silver urn of that
charming family, the Sam Kettlethorps, was, in reality, only
plated--that her particular favourites, the Joe Sowerbys, showed such
bad taste at their great terrapin supper, as to have green hock-glasses
for the champagne; and that those delightful people, the Bob Skutterbys,
the first time they attempted the new style of heaters at a venison
dinner, had them filled with spirits of turpentine, instead of spirits
of wine.
Next morning, Miss Frampton did not appear at the breakfast-table, but
had her first meal carried into her room, and Augusta breakfasted with
her. Between them Laura Lovel was discussed at full length, and their
conclusion was, that she had not a single good feature--that her
complexion was nothing, her figure nothing, and her dress worse than
nothing.
"I don't suppose," said Augusta, "that her father has given her much
money to bring to town with her."
"To be sure he has not," replied Miss Frampton, "if he is only a poor
country clergyman. I think it was in very bad taste for him to let her
come at all."
"Well," said Augusta, "we must take her a shopping this morning, and try
to get her fitted out, so as to make a decent appearance at Nahant, as
we are going thither in a few days."
"Then I have come just in the right time," said Miss Frampton. "Nahant
is the very place I wish to visit--my sweet friend Mrs. Dick Pewsey has
given me such an account of it. She says there is considerable style
there. She passed a week at Nahant when she came to Boston last summer."
"Oh! I remember her," cried Augusta. "She was a mountain of blonde
lace."
"Yes," observed Miss Frampton, "and not an inch of that blonde has yet
been paid for, or ever will be; I know it from good authority."
They went shopping, and Augusta took them to the most fashionable store
in Washington street, where Laura was surprised and confused at the
sight of the various beautiful articles shown to them. Even their names
perplexed her. She knew very well what gros de Naples was (or gro de
nap, as it is commonly called), but she was at a loss to distinguish
gros de Berlin, gros de Suisse, gros des Indes, and all the other gros.
Augusta, however, was au fait of the whole, and talked and flitted, and
glided; producing, as she supposed, great effect among the young
salesmen at the counters. Miss Frampton examined everything with a
scrutinizing eye, undervalued them all, and took frequent occasions to
say that they were far inferior to similar articles in Philadelphia.
At length, a very light-coloured figured silk, with a very new name, was
selected for Laura. The price appeared to her extremely high, and when
she heard the number of yards that were considered necessary, she
faintly asked "if less would not do." Miss Frampton sneered, and Augusta
laughed out, saying, "Don't you see that the silk is very narrow, and
that it has a wrong side and a right side, and that the flowers have a
top and a bottom? So as it cannot be turned every way, a larger quantity
will be required."
"Had I not better choose a plain silk," said Laura, "one that is wider,
and that _can_ be turned any way?"
"Oh! plain silks are so common," replied Augusta; "though, for a change,
they are well enough. I have four. But this will be best for Nahant. We
always dress to go there; and, of course, we expect all of our party to
do the same."
"But really this silk is so expensive," whispered Laura.
"Let the dress be cut off," said Miss Frampton, in a peremptory tone. "I
am tired of so much hesitation. Tis in very bad taste."
The dress _was_ cut off, and Laura, on calculating the amount, found
that it would make a sad inroad on her little modicum. Being told that
she must have also a new printed muslin, one was chosen for her with a
beautiful sky blue for the predominant colour, and Laura found that this
also was a very costly dress. She was next informed that she could not
be presentable without a French pelerine of embroidered muslin.
Pelerines in great variety were then produced, and Laura found, to her
dismay, that the prices were from ten to twenty-five dollars. She
declined taking one, and Miss Frampton and Augusta exchanged looks which
said, as plainly as looks could speak, "I suppose she has not money
enough."
Laura coloured--hesitated--at last false pride got the better of her
scruples. The salesman commended the beauty of the pelerines;
particularly of one tied up in the front, and ornamented on the
shoulders, with bows of blue riband--and our heroine yielded, and took
it at fifteen dollars; those at ten dollars being voted by Miss Frampton
"absolutely mean."