OR, A BELLE IN A NEW LIGHT.BY F. E. F., AUTHOR OF "AARON'S ROD," "TELLING SECRETS," ETC.CHAPTER I."You had better leave Harry alone about that girl," said Tom Leveredge to his sisters, who were talking very fast, and sometimes both together, in the heat and excitement of the subject under discussion. "You only make Harry angry, and you do no good. Take my advice, and say no more to him about her." "And let him engage himself without one word of remonstrance," exclaimed Miss Leveredge, despairingly. "You don't know that he means to engage himself," argued Tom; "and if he does, opposition wont prevent him. On the contrary, it may settle a passing fancy into a serious feeling; and if he does not mean it now, you are enough to put it into his head, with all the talk you make about it." "She'll put it into his head," ejaculated Miss Leveredge, scornfully. "Leave her alone for that. She'll get him—I know she will," she continued, almost in tears at the thought. "It's too bad!" "What do you think about it, Tom?" inquired Mrs. Castleton, earnestly. "Do you think with Emma, that it will end in his having her?" "I should not be surprised," replied Tom, coolly. "Then you think he is in love with her?" continued his sister, mournfully. "There's no telling," replied Tom. "He's a good deal with her; and if he is thwarted at home, and flattered by her, I think it very possible he may fancy himself so, whether he is or not." "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Castleton, "that would be melancholy, indeed—to be taken in without even being attached to her!" "Don't be in such a hurry," said Tom. "I don't know that he is not in love with her, or that he is going to be taken in; but I do say, that Emma's course is very injudicious." "What is that?" inquired Mrs. Castleton. "Oh, abusing the girl so—saying she is vulgar, and—" "I am sure I did not say any thing that is not true," said Emma, with some spirit. " "Perhaps not," replied Tom; "but it is not always wise to be forcing the truth upon people at all times, and in all tempers." "Where on earth did Harry become acquainted with her?" asked Mrs. Castleton. "That's more than I can tell you," replied Tom. "He told me that Jewiston introduced him." "I never could bear that Jewiston," remarked Miss Leveredge; "I always thought him very under-bred and vulgar. Why will Harry have any thing to do with him?" "Who—Jewiston? He's a clever fellow enough," said Tom. "Oh, Tom! how can you say so!" "So he is," persisted the young man. "He's not very refined or elegant, I grant you—but still a very good fellow." "And so you think, Tom," continued Mrs. Castleton, still intent on the main theme, "that in all probability Miss Dawson will be our sister-in-law?" Emma shivered. "I don't think it probable, but very possible," replied the young man, "particularly under the present system of family politics." "And it would be very bad." pursued Mrs. Castleton, inquiringly. "Oh, dreadful!" ejaculated Emma. "There's nothing very dreadful about it," remonstrated Tom; "it would not be pleasant, certainly—but that's all. There's no use in making the matter worse than it is." Emma looked as if that were impossible, but said nothing, while Mrs. Castleton continued with— "What kind of a set is she in—and what are the family?" "Very low, vulgar people," said Emma. "Now, Emma, there again you are exaggerating," rejoined Tom. "They are not a low set—vulgar, I admit." "The same thing," persisted Emma. "It's not the same thing, Emma," said the young man, decidedly. "They are very far from being low people. Her father is a highly respectable man, and, indeed, so are all the family—not fashionable, I grant you." "Fashionable!" ejaculated Emma, with a smile full of scornful meaning. "But I admit," continued Tom, "that it is not a connection that would altogether suit us. I should be as sorry, perhaps, as any of you to see the thing take place." "And what is the girl in herself," pursued Mrs. Castleton. "A vulgar, forward, ugly thing," said Emma, speaking quickly, as if she could not help herself—the words must out, let Tom say what he would. Tom said nothing, however. "Is she?" said Mrs. Castleton, looking very much distressed, and turning to her brother. "Emma will have it that she is," he replied. "Now, Tom, you know she is," expostulated Emma. "No, Emma," said Tom, "if you will permit me, I know no such thing." "You surely don't admire her, too," said Emma, with a look of mingled alarm and disgust. "No," said Tom, "she is as you say, vulgar, and somewhat forward—but not ugly. On the contrary, she is decidedly handsome." "Handsome!" repeated Miss Leveredge. "Do you call her handsome, with all those hanging curls, and that feroniÈre, and her hat on the very back of her head; with her short petticoats and big feet—and such bright colors, and quantity of tawdry jewelry as she wears, too." "You women never can separate a girl from her dress," said Tom, laughing. "Miss Dawson dresses execrably, I grant you; but give her one half of the advantages of the girls that you see around you in society, and she would be not only pretty, but beautiful." "Then she may be improved," said Mrs. Castleton, hopefully. "Not much of that," said Tom. "She is very well satisfied with herself, I imagine." "Oh, it's evident she's a public belle and beauty in her own set," said Emma. "She's full of airs and graces." Mrs. Castleton sighed. "It's a bad business, I am afraid," she said, mournfully. "No," said Tom, stoutly, "it's not pleasant, and that's all. The girl may make a very good wife, though she does dress badly. She looks amiable, and I dare say has sense enough." "It's not her dress only," persisted Emma, "but her manners are so bad." "Well, many a flirty girl has settled into a very respectable married woman," continued Tom. "Where have you seen her, Emma?" asked Mrs. Castleton. "Tom pointed her out to me one night at the theatre; and I have since seen her in the street frequently." "Then you do not know her at all?" continued Mrs. Castleton, with some surprise in her tone. "How, then, do you know any thing about her manners, Emma?" "It's not necessary to know her to know what her manners are," replied Emma. "One glance across the theatre is enough for that. She had two or three beaux with her—indeed, I believe she was there only with them—" "Her mother was with her, Emma," interposed Tom, decidedly. "Well," continued Emma, a little provoked at being set right, "she ought to have made her behave herself, then." "But how did she behave, Emma?" pursued Mrs. Castleton, who had been absent from the city during the rise and progress of this flirtation, and was now anxious for as much information as could be obtained on the subject. "Oh, laughing, and flirting, and shaking her long curls back, and looking up to their faces—perfectly disgusting!" Mrs. Castleton looked at her brother in the hopes of some amendment here on his part; but he only smiled, and shook his head, and said, "Pretty much so, Emma." "And then, dressed—oh, you never saw a girl so bedizzened!" "Strange!" said Mrs. Castleton. "that Harry should admire such a girl. He is generally rather critical—hates particularly to see you at all over-dressed, Emma. He never would admire Fanny Lewis, you know, because she had something of that manner. I wonder he should admire this girl." "Oh, it all depends very much upon the clique in which a man sees a girl how she strikes him," said Tom. "Miss Dawson's manners are very much those of the girls around her, quite as good, if not better; then she is really handsome—moreover, very much admired, the belle of the set; and Harry's vanity is rather flattered, I suppose, by the preference she shows him." "You think, then, she likes him?" said Mrs. Castleton. "I know nothing more about it than you do," replied Tom. "I suppose she must, for she certainly could marry richer men than Harry if she wanted to. She has the merit, at least, of disinterestedness." "Harry would be a great match for her," said Emma, indignantly—"and she knows it. She might get more money, perhaps, but think of the difference of position." "Yes, I suppose that has something to do with it," replied Tom. "You women all think so much of such things." "Strange!" repeated Mrs. Castleton, "I don't know how Harry can fancy such a girl." "Don't you know all objects vary according to the light they are in," said Tom. "If Harry saw Miss Dawson among young ladies of a different style and stamp, the changes of the 'dissolving views' would not be greater. The present picture would fade away, and a new, and in all probability a very different one, would take its place." "That's a good idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Castleton, suddenly, and clapping her hands joyfully. "I'll call and ask her to my party for the bride." Emma looked at her for a moment aghast, as if she thought she had suddenly gone crazy. "What do you mean, Laura?" she exclaimed. "Why, to follow out Tom's idea," she said. "It's excellent! I'm going to give Mrs. Flemming a party. I'll make it very select, and not large; invite all the prettiest and most elegant girls, and then play amiable to Harry, by telling him I'll call upon his Miss Dawson and invite her." Emma looked very dubious, and said, "I don't like our countenancing the thing in this way." "You need have nothing to do with it," returned her sister. "As it seems you and Harry have had words about it, you had better not; but I'll call—I'll have her. And it shall be such an elegant, select little The young man laughed. "Now, Tom," said she, a little disappointed, "don't you think so?" "There's a good chance of it, certainly," he replied. "You can but try it." "Then why do you laugh," she continued, still dissatisfied. "Only to see what spiteful creatures you women are," he continued, smiling. "To see the pains you'll take to put down a girl you don't happen to fancy." "Surely, you yourself, Tom," commenced Mrs. Castleton, seriously, and "I am sure, Tom," chimed in Emma, in the same breath, "you have always said—"and then they both poured forth such a torrent of reminiscences and good reasons for wishing to prevent the match, that he was glad to cry for mercy, and ended by saying seriously, "I am sure I hope you may succeed."
CHAPTER II."Harry," said Mrs. Castleton, in her prettiest and most winning manner, "I am going to call on your friend, Miss Dawson, and invite her for Thursday evening." Harry looked up very much astonished, hardly knowing whether to be pleased or not, and said, "What put that in your head?" "I want to know her," continued Mrs. Castleton. "They tell me you admire her, Harry; and if she is to be my future sister, as people say—" "People say a great deal more than they know," said Harry, hastily. "Well," rejoined his sister, playfully, "be that as it may, Harry, I should like to see the young lady; and beside, I want as many pretty girls as I can get, they always make a party brilliant—and you say she is pretty, don't you, Harry?" "Beautiful," he replied, with an earnestness that startled Mrs. Castleton. "You'll have no prettier girl here, I promise you that, Laura," he added, presently, more quietly. "But what will Emma say," he continued, bitterly. "She'll never give her consent, depend upon it, to your calling." "It's not necessary that she should," said Mrs. Castleton, good humoredly; "so perhaps I had better not ask her." "Emma gives herself airs," continued Harry, angrily. "She thinks that all the world are just confined to her one little clique; that there's neither beauty, nor sense, nor any thing else out of her particular set. Now I can tell her that there's more beauty among those who don't give themselves half the airs, and who she looks down upon, than there is to be found among her 'fashionables.' But Emma is perfectly ridiculous with her 'exclusive' nonsense," he continued, with much feeling, evidently showing how deeply he resented his sister's reflections upon the style and stamp of his present admiration, Miss Dawson. "Oh," said Mrs. Castleton, soothingly, "it's a mistake all very young girls make, Harry. They know nothing out of one circle. Of course, they disparage all others." But Harry was not to be quieted so easily. He was not satisfied until he had poured forth all his complaints against Emma; and Mrs. Castleton found it best not to take her part, but trust to the result of her experiment of the next week with putting him in good humor with her again. "Will you call with me?" she continued, presently. "I have ordered the carriage at one." He looked pleased, and said he would. But after a little while he seemed to grow nervous and fidgetty—walked about the room—asked a good many questions, without seeming to attend much to the answers, and at last said, hurriedly, "Well, Laura, it's rather late, and I have an engagement down town—do you care about my calling with you? You know it's only necessary for you to leave your card. You need not go in even, if you don't care about it." "Oh, certainly," she replied. "No, don't wait for me." And he took his hat and darted off like light, as if he had made an escape from he hardly knew what. Mrs. Castleton could not but laugh as she heard him shut the hall-door, almost before she was aware he had left the room, well pleased with this indication of susceptibility on his part, which she took as a good omen of the future, fully believing that "future events cast their shadows before." "If Harry were nervous already, what would he be on Thursday evening." The call was made. Miss Dawson was out. A card was left, with an invitation, which, in due time, was accepted. "Are you going to ask the Hazletons," inquired Emma. "No," said Mrs. Castleton; "I don't want to have too large a party. I want just enough to fill my rooms prettily, so that you can see everybody, and how they are dressed—just one of those small, select, pretty parties, where everybody is noticed. I have hardly asked a person—I don't know one—who is not in some way distinguished for either dress, manner, air, or beauty. I have taken pains to cull the most choice of my acquaintance. The rooms will be beautifully lighted—and I expect it to be a brilliant affair." "If it were not for that Miss Dawson to spoil all," said Emma, dejectedly—for she had never liked the scheme, though she did not oppose it. "I declare, Laura, I wonder at your moral courage in having her. I don't think I could introduce her among such a set, even to be sure of breaking it off. You will be terribly ashamed of her. You don't know, I think, what you have undertaken." Mrs. Castleton could not but laugh at the earnestness, not to say solemnity, of Emma's manner. "Not I, Emma—why should I be ashamed of her But still Emma looked very dubious, and only said, "Well, don't introduce me." "Don't be alarmed," replied her sister. "I don't mean to. Come, come, Emma," she continued, laughing, "I see you are nervous about it, but I think you may trust me for carrying it off well," to which her sister replied, "Well, Laura, if any one can get out of such a scrape gracefully, you will." Mrs. Castleton laughed, and the subject dropped. What Emma had said was true. There was an airy grace, a high-bred ease about Mrs. Castlelon, that could carry her through any thing she chose to undertake. Thursday evening arrived at last. Mrs. Castleton's rooms were lighted to perfection, and she herself dressed with exquisite taste, looking the fitting priestess of the elegant shrine over which she presided. Emma, with her brothers, came early—and one glance satisfied Mrs. Castleton. The simplicity and elegance of Emma's toilette were not to be out-done even by her own. Tom looked at them both with great pride; and, certainly, two prettier or more elegant specimens of humanity are not often to be met with. He made some playful observation to his sister, expressive of his admiration of her taste, and looking about, said, "Your rooms are very well lighted. There's nothing like wax, after all." "They are too hot," said Harry, pettishly. "Bless you, man," replied Tom, "how can you say so. I am downright chilly; but as there is to be dancing, it is better it should be so." "If you find this room warm, Harry," said Mrs. Castleton, "you had better go in the dancing-room—there is not a spark of fire there." Harry walked off, and Emma said, "I don't know what is the matter with him—he's so cross. He has been so irritable all day that I have hardly dared to speak to him." Tom only laughed. Mrs. Castleton gave him a quick look of intelligence, but before she had time to speak, she was called upon to receive her guests, who began to come. At every fresh arrival Harry's face was to be seen peeping in anxiously from the dancing-room, and it wore something of a look of relief as he turned off each time to resume his restless wanderings in the still empty apartment. Miss Dawson, meaning to be very fashionable, came late. The bride for whom the party was ostensibly given had arrived; and Mrs. Castleton was about giving orders to have the dancing-room thrown open, and just at the pause that frequently precedes such a movement in a small party, the door was thrown open, and Miss Dawson entered, leaning on the arm of a gentleman whom she introduced as Mr. Hardwicks. Now this Mr. Hardwicks was something more than Mrs. Castleton had bargained for; and Harry hastened forward with a look of some embarrassment and vexation as he perceived the mistake his fair friend had made in taking such a liberty with his high-bred sister. Miss Dawson had often taken him to parties with her, and somehow it had not struck him then as strange. Perhaps it was because he saw it was the style among those around him. But these were not the "customs of Branksome Hall;" and Harry was evidently annoyed. Moreover, this Mr. Hardwicks was a forward, under-bred looking individual, with a quantity of black whisker, and brass buttons to his claret-colored coat, altogether a very different looking person from the black-coated, gentlemanly-looking set that Mrs. Castleton had invited. She received him with a graceful but distant bow, somewhat annoyed, it is true; but as she never allowed trifles to disturb her, she turned calmly away, and never gave him a second thought during the evening. Miss Dawson she received with empressement. She was dressed to her heart's delight, with a profusion of mock pearl and tinsel; her hair in a shower of long curls in front, with any quantity of bows and braids behind, and a wreath!—that required all Mrs. Castleton's self-possession to look at without laughing. Her entrance excited no little sensation—for she was a striking-looking girl, being tall, and full formed, with a very brilliant complexion. Simply and quietly dressed, and she would have been decidedly handsome; but as it was, she was intensely showy and vulgar. "Harry, the music is just beginning; you will find a place for Miss Dawson in the dancing-room," and so, whether he would or no, he had to ask her to dance. Probably he would have done so if his sister had let him alone; but as it was, he felt as if he had to. She danced very badly. Harry had not been aware of it before; but she jumped up and down—and if the truth must be told, with an air and spirit of enjoyment not just then the fashionable style. "How in earnest your fair friend dances," said a young man, with a smile, to Harry, as they passed in the dance. Harry colored. "Who on earth have you there, Harry?" asked another, with rather a quizzical look. "Introduce me, wont you?" But Harry affected not to hear the request. "Who is the young lady your brother is dancing with, Mrs. Castleton?" he heard asked several times; to which his sister answered in her sweetest and most winning manner, "Miss Dawson—a friend of Harry's;" and to some of her brother's particular friends, he heard her say, "Oh, that's Harry's belle. Don't you know Miss Dawson—let me introduce you." Harry felt quite provoked, he did not know why, at hearing his sister couple him always with Miss Mrs. Castleton introduced a gentleman just as the dance finished, who asked her for the next, when Harry said quickly, "You are fatigued, are you not? Perhaps you had better go with me and get an ice." "Do you go and bring Miss Dawson one," said his sister. "I hope," she continued, "you are not fatigued already?" "Oh, no," replied the young lady, with an animation and energy that proclaimed she had a dancing power within not to be readily exhausted. "Oh, no, indeed; I could dance all night." "I am glad to hear it," said Mrs. Castleton, graciously, as if she felt her dancing a personal compliment. And before the dance was over she had introduced half a dozen young men to her. Feeling herself a decided belle, Miss Dawson was in high spirits (that trying test to an unrefined woman.) She considered Mrs. Castleton's visit and invitation as a marked compliment, (as she had every right to do,) and her attentions now, and the admiration she received, excited her to even more than her ordinary animation, which was always, to say the least of it, sufficient. She laughed, and she talked, and shook her long curls about, and flirted in a style that made the ladies look, and the gentlemen smile. Moreover, Mr. Hardwicks, who knew no one else, (for Mrs. Castleton had no idea of forcing him on any of her friends,) never left her side; and the easy manner in which he spoke to her, and took her fan from her hand while she was talking, and even touched her sleeve to call her attention when her head was turned away, all of which she seemed to think quite natural, made Harry color, and bite his lip more than once with mortification and vexation. "You are not going to waltz?" he said, justly distrusting the waltzing of a lady who danced so. "Yes," she said, "with Mr. Hardwicks;" and in a moment they were whirling round in a style quite peculiar, and altogether new to the accomplished waltzers then and there assembled. People looked, and some smiled—and then couple after couple paused in the dance to gaze on the strangers who had just taken the floor—and soon they had it all to themselves, and on they whirled like mad ones. Harry could not stand it—he left the room. Presently some of his young friends followed him, who seemed excessively amused, and one of them exclaimed, "Harry, where on earth did you pick up those extraordinary waltzers. Mrs. Castleton tells me they are friends of yours?" Harry muttered something, and said, "Hardwicks should not ask any woman to waltz. He did not know how; no man should, if he could not waltz himself." "Are you dancing, Francis?" asked another, of a fashionable looking young man standing near. "No," he replied, languidly, "I am exhausted. I danced with Harry's fair friend the last dance, and it requires no small degree of physical power to keep pace with her efforts." Harry was excessively annoyed. He heartily wished he had never seen her; and was quite angry with Mrs. Castleton for having invited her. And just then, irritated and cross as he was, Mrs. Castleton met him with, "Harry, Miss Dawson says you have carried off her bouquet." "I have not got her bouquet," he answered, angrily. "Well, go and make your own apology," and before he had time to know what she was about, she had her arm in his, and had taken him up to Miss Dawson, saying, "Here is the culprit, Miss Dawson—but he pleads not guilty;" whereupon the young lady tapped him with her fan, and declared he was a "sad fellow," and shook her curls back, and looked up in his face, and flirted, as she thought, bewitchingly, while he with pleasure could have boxed her ears. "Your carriage is at the door," Mrs. Castlelon heard him say soon after. "Why, Harry!" exclaimed his sister, looking almost shocked at his evident desire to hurry away her guest. "You surely don't think of going yet. Miss Dawson?" said she, in her most persuasive manner. "You will dance this polka." A polka! Harry was in despair. He would have preferred dancing on hot ploughshares himself. "The scheme works to admiration," said Mrs. Castleton to Emma, as they met for a moment in the crowd. "But it has spoiled your party," replied the other. "Not at all," she answered, laughing, "what it has withdrawn in elegance, it has made up in spirit. The joke seems to take wonderfully." But Emma did not like such "jokes." Mrs. Castleton's hauteur was of a more flexible kind. To spoil a match she was willing to spoil her party. "Was I right?" she said to Tom, toward the close of the evening. He nodded and laughed, and said, "I congratulate you." Harry had in vain attempted to persuade Miss Dawson that she was heated and tired, and had better not polka; but the young lady thought him over-careful, and chose to dance. "A willful thing!" muttered Harry, as he turned off. "Trifles show the temper—preserve me from an unamiable woman." Now Miss Dawson was not unamiable, but Harry was cross. If he were ashamed of her, she was hardly to be expected to know that. At any rate he walked off and left her to take care of herself. Mr. Hardwicks took her home as he had brought her—and Harry hardly looked at her again. He was thoroughly out of humor. Mrs. Castleton had discretion enough not to follow up her victory. She saw she was successful, and so left things to their own course. Never was a "dissolving view" more perfect. Harry had really imagined Miss Dawson not only The spell was broken—for when a lover is mortified, ashamed of his choice, the danger is over. Fortunately, his honor was no deeper pledged than his heart. Miss Dawson had not flirted more with him than with two or three others; and though she would have preferred him, one of the others would do. "What did Harry say of my party last night?" asked Mrs. Castleton of her sister. "He merely said 'it was a great bore, this going out,' and seemed quite cross, and took his light and walked off to his room immediately; and, in fact, it seemed such a delicate point with him, that I did not dare to make any allusion to it this morning." "Poor fellow! I don't wonder," said Mrs. Castleton, laughing. "How she did look beside the Claverings and Lesters." "Like a peony among moss rose-buds," said Emma. "Laura," said Harry, a few days after, "I am going to New Orleans for the rest of the winter." "Are you?" she said, in surprise. "Yes. My father is anxious about that business of his, and I am going for him." "I thought you had declined, and that he was going to send Tom," she said. "I've changed my mind," he replied. "In fact it is very dull here, and as Tom don't want to go, I think I shall like the trip." "I've no doubt you will find it very pleasant," she said, cheerfully, amused at his proposing himself the very thing they had all been so anxious to have him do, and which he had negatived so decidedly some weeks back. "Ah, Tom," said Mrs. Castleton, laughing, "that was a bright idea of yours. There's nothing like a new light for bringing out new colors. I think that party of mine finished Miss Dawson." "You need not crow too much, Laura," replied Tom, "for, in all probability, if you had left Harry alone in the beginning, the party never would have been required. You women never learn not to thwart and oppose a man until it is too late. Then, you'll move heaven and earth to undo your own work. If you would only govern that 'unruly member' in the beginning, you would have required no 'dissolving views, in the end."
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