JEALOUSY.
Mr. Graham's country-house boasted a fine, old fashioned entry, with a door at either end, both of which usually stood open during the warm weather, admitting a current of air, and rendering the neighbourhood of the front entrance a favourite resort of the family, during the early hours of the day, when the sun had no access to the spot. Here, on a pleasant June morning, Isabel Clinton and her cousin, Kitty Ray, had made themselves comfortable.
Isabel had drawn a large arm-chair close to the door-sill, ensconced herself in it, and was gazing idly down the road. She was a beautiful girl, tall and well-formed, with a delicate complexion, clear blue eyes, and rich, light, flowing curls. The same lovely child, whom Gertrude had gazed upon with rapture, as, leaning against the window of her father's house, she once watched old True while he lit his lamp, had ripened into an equally lovely woman. At an early age deprived of her mother, and left for some years to the care of servants, she soon learned to appreciate, at more than their true value, her outward attractions; and her aunt, under whose tutelage she had been since she left school, did not counteract this undue self-admiration. An appearance of conscious superiority which distinguished her, and her independent air, might be attributed to her conviction that Belle Clinton, the beauty and the heiress, attired in a blue cashmere morning-dress, richly embroidered, and open in front, for the purpose of displaying an equally rich flounced cambric petticoat.
On a low step at her feet sat Kitty Ray, a complete contrast to her cousin in looks, manners and many points of character. She was a sweet little creature, lively, playful, and affectionate. She was so small that her childish manners became her; so full of spirits that her occasional rudeness claimed pardon on that score; and for all other faults her warm-heartedness and generous enthusiasm must plead an excuse to one who wished to love her as she wished and expected to be loved by everybody. She was a pretty girl, always bright and animated, mirthful and happy; fond of her cousin Belle, and sometimes influenced by her, though often enlisting on the opposite side of some contested question. Unlike Belle, she was seldom well dressed, for she was very careless. On the present occasion her dark silk wrapper was half-concealed by a crimson flannel sack, which she held tightly around her, for she said it was a chilly morning, and she was half-frozen to death—she certainly would go and warm herself at the kitchen fire, if she did not fear encountering that she-dragon, Mrs. Ellis; she was sure she did not see, if they must sit in the doorway, why Belle couldn't come to the side-door, where the sun shone beautifully. "O, I forgot, though," added she; "her complexion!"
"Complexion!" said Belle; "I'm no more afraid of hurting my complexion than you are; I never freckle, or tan either."
"But you burn all up, and look like a fright."
"Well, if I didn't, I shouldn't go there to sit; I like to be at the front of the house, where I can see the passing. I wonder who those people are coming up the road."
Kitty stood up, and looked as Belle pointed. After observing the approaching couple for a minute or two she exclaimed, "Why, that's Gertrude Flint! I wonder where she's been! And who can that be with her? I didn't know there was a beau to be had about here."
"Beau!" said Belle, sneeringly.
"And why not a beau, Cousin Belle? I'm sure he looks like one."
"I wouldn't give much for any of her beaux!" said Belle.
"Wouldn't you?" said Kitty. "Wait until you see who they are; you near-sighted people shouldn't decide in such a hurry. I can tell you that he is a gentleman you wouldn't object to walking with yourself; it's Mr. Bruce, the one we met in New Orleans."
"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Belle, starting up.
"You will soon have a chance to see for yourself; for he is coming home with her."
"He is! What can he be walking with her for?"
"To show his taste, perhaps. I am sure he could not find more agreeable company."
"You and I don't agree about that," replied Belle. "I don't see anything very agreeable about her."
"Because you are determined not to, Belle. Everybody else thinks her charming, and Mr. Bruce is opening the gate for her as politely as if she were a queen. I like him for that."
"Do see," said Belle; "she's got on that white cape-bonnet of hers! and that checked gingham dress! I wonder what Mr. Bruce thinks of her, and he such a critic in regard to ladies' dress."
Gertrude and her companion now drew near to the house. The former looked up, saw the young ladies in the doorway, and smiled pleasantly at Kitty, who was making strange grimaces and giving insignificant glances over Belle's shoulder; but Mr. Bruce did not observe either of them; and they heard him say, as he handed Gertrude a small parcel he had been carrying for her, "I believe I won't come in; it's such a bore to have to talk to strangers. Do you work in the garden, mornings, this summer?"
"No," replied Gertrude, "there is nothing left of my garden but the memory of it."
"Why, Miss Gertrude!" said the young man, "I hope these new-comers haven't interfered with——" Here, observing the direction of Gertrude's eyes, he raised his own, saw Belle and Kitty standing opposite to him; and compelled now to speak with them, went forward to shake hands, trusting to his remarks about strangers in general, and these new-comers in particular, not having been overheard. Although overheard, the young ladies chose to take no notice of that which they supposed intended for unknown individuals.
They were mistaken, however, for Mr. Bruce knew, perfectly well that the nieces of the present Mrs. Graham were the same girls whom he met at the south, and was indifferent about renewing his acquaintance. But his vanity was not proof against the evident pleasure they both manifested at seeing him again; and he soon engaged in an animated conversation with them, while Gertrude entered the house. She sought Emily's room, and was giving an account of her morning's expedition to the village, and how she had accomplished various commissions and errands, when Mrs. Ellis came, and said, with distressed voice, "Hasn't Gertrude?—Oh, there you are! Do tell me what Mrs. Wilkins said about the strawberries?"
"I engaged three quarts; hasn't she sent them?"
"No, but I'm thankful to hear they're coming; I have been so plagued about the dinner."
She now came in, and seating herself, exclaimed, "I declare, Emily, such an ironing as our girls have got to do to-day! You never saw anything like it! There's no end to the fine clothes Mrs. Graham and her nieces put into our wash. It's a shame! Rich as they are, they might put out their washing. I've been helping, myself, as much as I could; but, as Mrs. Prime says, one can't do everything at once; and I've had to see the butcher, make puddings and blancmange, and been worried to death all the time, because I forgot to engage those strawberries. So Mrs. Wilkins hadn't sent her fruit to market when you got there?"
"No, but she was in a great hurry getting ready; it would have been gone in a very short time."
"Well, that was lucky. I don't know what I should have done without, for I've no time to hunt up anything else for dessert. I've got just as much as I can do till dinner-time. Mrs. Graham never kept house before, and don't know how to make allowance for anything. She comes home from Boston, expects to find everything in apple-pie order, and never asks or cares who does the work."
Mrs. Prime called out, "Mrs. Ellis, the boy has brought your strawberries, and the stalks an't off; he said they hadn't no time."
"That's too bad," exclaimed the tired housekeeper. "Who's going to take the stalks off, I should like to know? Kate is busy, and I can't do it."
"I will, Mrs. Ellis; let me do it," said Gertrude, following Mrs. Ellis, who was now half-way downstairs.
"No, no! don't you, Miss Gertrude," said Mrs. Prime; "they'll only stain your fingers all up."
"No matter if they do; my hands are not made of white kid. They'll bear washing."
Mrs. Ellis was only too thankful for Gertrude's help. Belle and Kitty were doing their best to entertain Mr. Bruce, who, sitting on the door-steps, from time to time cast his eyes down the entry, and up the staircase, in hopes of Gertrude's reappearance; and despairing of it, he was about to depart, when his sister Fanny came running up the yard, and rushed past the assembled trio for the house.
Her brother, however, stretched out his arm, caught her, and before he let her go whispered something in her ear.
"Who is that wild Indian?" asked Kitty Ray, as Fanny ran across the entry and disappeared.
"A sister of mine," answered Ben, in a nonchalant manner.
"Why! is she?" inquired Kitty, with interest; "I have seen her here several times, and never took any notice of her. I didn't know she was your sister. What a pretty girl she is."
"Do you think so?" said Ben; "sorry I can't agree with you. I think she's a fright."
Fanny now reappeared, and stopping a moment on her way upstairs called out, without any ceremony, "She says she can't come, she's busy."
"Who?" asked Kitty, in her turn catching Fanny and detaining her.
"Miss Flint."
Mr. Bruce coloured slightly, and Belle Clinton observed it.
"What is she doing?" inquired Kitty.
"Picking strawberries."
"Where are you going, Fanny?"
"Upstairs."
"Do they let you go all over the house?"
"Miss Flint said I might go up and bring down the birds."
"What birds?"
"Her birds. I am going to hang them in the sun, and they'll sing beautifully."
She went, and soon returned with a cage containing the little monias sent by Willie from Calcutta.
"There Kitty," cried Belle; "those are the birds that wake us so early every morning."
"Very likely," said Kitty; "bring them here. Goodness! what little creatures they are!—do look at them, Mr. Bruce—they are sweetly pretty."
"Put them down on the door-step, Fanny," said Ben, "so that we can see them better."
"I'm afraid you'll frighten them," replied Fanny; "Miss Gertrude doesn't like to have them frightened."
"No, we won't," said Ben; "we're disposed to be very friendly to Miss Gertrude's birds. Where did she get them? Do you know, Fanny?"
"Why, they are Indian birds; Mr. Sullivan sent them to her."
"Who is he?"
"Oh, he is a very particular friend; she has letters from him every little while."
"What Mr. Sullivan?" asked Belle. "Do you know his Christian name?"
"I suppose it's William," said Fanny. "Miss Emily always calls the birds little Willies."
"Belle!" exclaimed Kitty, "that's your William Sullivan."
"What a favourite man he seems to be!" said Mr. Bruce, in a tone of sarcasm; "the property of one beautiful lady and the particular friend of another."
"I don't know what you mean, Kitty," said Belle, tartly. "Mr. Sullivan is a junior partner of my father's, but I have not seen him for years."
"Except in your dreams, Belle," suggested Kitty. "You forget."
"Do you dream about Mr. Sullivan?" asked Fanny, fixing her eyes on Belle as she spoke. "I mean to go and ask Miss Gertrude if she does."
"Do," said Kitty; "I'll go with you."
They ran across the entry into the dining room, and put the question at the same time. Taken by surprise, Gertrude neither blushed nor looked confused, but answered, quietly, "Yes, sometimes; but what do you know of Mr. Sullivan?"
"Oh, nothing," answered Kitty; "only some others do, and we are inquiring around to see how many there are;" and she ran back in triumph to tell Belle she might as well be frank, like Gertrude, and plead guilty to the weakness; it looked so much better than blushing and denying it.
But it would not do to joke with Belle any longer; she was offended, and did not conceal the fact. Mr. Bruce felt annoyed, and soon left, leaving the two cousins to settle their difficulty as best they could. As soon as he had gone, Belle folded up her work, and walked upstairs to her room with great dignity, while Kitty stayed behind to laugh over the matter, and improve her opportunity to make friends with Fanny Bruce; for Kitty laboured under the idea that in cultivating the acquaintance of the sister she should advance her cause.
She therefore called Fanny to sit beside her, put her arm round her waist, and commenced talking about Gertrude, and the origin and extent of the intimacy which seemed to exist between her and the Bruce family. Fanny, who was always communicative, willingly informed her of the circumstances which had attached her so strongly to a friend who was some years her senior.
"And your brother," said Kitty, "he has known her some time, hasn't he?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Fanny, carelessly.
"Does he like her?"
"I don't know; I should think he would; I don't see how he can help it."
"What did he whisper to you when you came up the steps?"
"Oh, he bade me ask Miss Gertrude if she wasn't coming back to see him again, and tell her he was tired to death waiting for her."
Kitty pouted and looked vexed. "Has Miss Flint been in the habit of receiving company here, and been treated like an equal?"
"Of course she has," answered Fanny, with spirit; "why shouldn't she? She's the most perfect lady I ever saw, and mother says she has beautiful manners, and I must take pattern by her."
"Oh, Miss Gertrude!" called she, as Gertrude, who had been to place the strawberries in the refrigerator, crossed the back part of the long entry, "Are you ready now?"
"Yes, Fanny, I shall be in a moment," answered Gertrude.
"Ready for what?" inquired Kitty.
"To read," said Fanny. "She is going to read the rest of Hamlet to Miss Emily; she read the first three acts yesterday, and Miss Emily let me sit in her room and hear it. I can't understand it when I read it myself, but when I listen to Miss Gertrude it seems quite plain. She's a splendid reader, and I came in to-day on purpose to hear the play finished."
Kitty's last companion having deserted her, she lay on the entry sofa and fell asleep. She was wakened by her aunt, who returned from the city a short time before dinner—"I say Kitty Ray, wake up and go dress for dinner! I saw Belle at the chamber window looking like a beauty. I wish you'd take half the pains she does to improve your appearance."
Kitty yawned, and, after delaying a little, followed Mrs. Graham's directions. It was Kitty's policy, after giving offence to her cousin Belle, to appear utterly unconscious of the existence of any unkind feelings; and, though Belle often manifested some degree of sulkiness, she was too dependent upon Kitty's society to retain that disposition long. They were soon chatting together as usual.
"Belle," said Kitty, as she stood arranging her hair at the glass, "do you remember a girl we used to meet every morning on our way to school, walking with a paralytic old man?"
"Yes."
"Do you know, I think it was Gertrude Flint. She has altered very much, to be sure; but the features are still the same, and there certainly never was but one such pair of eyes."
"I have no doubt she is the same person," said Belle, composedly.
"Did you think of it before?"
"Yes, as soon as Fanny spoke of her knowing Willie Sullivan."
"Why, Belle, why didn't you speak of it?"
"Lor', Kitty, I don't feel so much interest in her as you and some others do."
"What others?"
"Why, Mr. Bruce; don't you see he is half in love with her?"
"No, I don't see any such thing; he has known her for a long time (Fanny says so), and, of course, he feels a respect for a girl that the Grahams make so much account of. But I don't believe he'd think of such a thing as being in love with a poor girl like her, with no family connections to boast of."
"Perhaps he didn't think of being."
"Well, he wouldn't be. She isn't the sort of person that would suit him. He has been in society a great deal, not only at home, but in Paris; and he would want a wife that was very lively and fond of company, and knew how to make a show with money."
"A girl, for instance, like Kitty Ray."
"How ridiculous, Belle! just as if people couldn't talk without thinking of themselves all the time! What do I care about Ben Bruce?"
"I don't know that you care anything about him; but I wouldn't pull all the hair out of my head about it, as you are doing. There's the dinner-bell."