VANITY.
Days and weeks passed on, and no marked event took place in Mr. Graham's household. The weather became intensely warm, and no more walks and drives were planned. The lieutenant left the city, and Isabel, who could neither endure with patience excessive heat nor want of society, grew more irritable than ever.
To Kitty, however, these summer days were fraught with interest. Mr. Bruce visited constantly at the house, and had great influence upon her outward demeanour and her inward happiness, which fluctuated as his attentions were freely bestowed or altogether suspended. No wonder the poor girl was puzzled to understand one whose conduct was certainly inexplicable to any but those initiated into his motives. Believing, as he did, that Gertrude would in time show a disposition to win him back, he was anxious only to carry his addresses to Kitty to such a point as would excite a serious alarm in the mind of the poor protégée of the Grahams, who dared to slight his proffered advances. Acting then as he did almost wholly with reference to Gertrude, it was only in her presence, or under such circumstances that he was sure it would reach her ears, that he manifested a marked interest in Kitty; and his behaviour was, therefore, in the highest degree, unequal, leading the warm-hearted Kitty to believe one moment that he felt for her almost the tenderness of a lover, and the next to suffer under the apprehension of having unconsciously wounded or offended him. Unfortunately, too, Mrs. Graham took every opportunity to congratulate her upon her conquest, thereby increasing the simple girl's confidence in the sincerity of Mr. Bruce's admiration.
Gertrude, whose eyes were soon opened to the existing state of things, was filled with apprehension on account of Kitty, for whose peace and welfare she felt great concern. The suspicions to which Mr. Bruce's conduct gave rise were soon strengthened into convictions; for, on several occasions, after he had offered Kitty proofs of devotion, he tested their effect upon Gertrude by some attention to herself; intimating that she had it in her power to rob Kitty of all claim upon his favour.
Gertrude availed herself of every opportunity to acquaint him with the truth, that he could not render himself more odious in her eyes than by the use of such mean attempts to mortify her; but attributing her warmth to jealousy, which he desired to excite, the selfish young man persevered in his course of wickedness. As he only proffered his attentions, and made no offer of his heart and hand, Kitty, having forgotten that she had a few weeks back looked upon Gertrude as a rival, now chose her for her bosom friend; and the transparency of her character was such that she betrayed her secret to Gertrude. Though no one but Gertrude appeared to observe it, Kitty was wonderfully changed;—the gay, laughing, careless Kitty had now her fits of musing—her sunny face was subject to clouds, that flitted across it, and robbed it of all its brightness. If she found Gertrude sitting alone in her room she would approach, throw her arm around her, and talk on her favourite topic. She would relate the complimentary speeches and polite attentions of Mr. Bruce, talk about him for an hour, and question Gertrude as to her opinion of his merits. She would ask if Gertrude really supposed he meant all he said, and add, that of course she didn't believe he did—it was all nonsense. And if Gertrude avowed the same opinion, and declared it was best not to trust his flatteries, poor Kitty's face would fail, and she would give her reasons for sometimes thinking he was sincere—he had such a truthful, earnest way of speaking.
At last Mr. Bruce tried Gertrude's firmness by offering to her acceptance a rich ring. Not a little surprised at his presumption, she declined it without ceremony, and the next day saw it on the finger of Kitty, who was eager to give an account of its presentation.
"And did you accept it?" asked Gertrude, with such a look of astonishment, that Kitty observed it, and evaded an acknowledgment of having done so, by saying, with a blushing countenance, that she agreed to wear it a little while.
"I wouldn't," said Gertrude.
"Why not?"
"Because, in the first place, I do not think it is in good taste to receive such rich gifts from gentlemen; and then, again, if strangers notice it, you may be subjected to unpleasant, significant remarks."
"What would you do with it?" asked Kitty.
"I should give it back."
Kitty looked very undecided; but concluded to offer it to Mr. Bruce, and tell him what Gertrude said. She did so, and that gentleman, little appreciating Gertrude's motives, and believing her only desirous of making difficulty between him and Kitty, jumped at the conclusion that her heart was won at last. He was disappointed, therefore, when, on his next meeting with her, she treated him as she had invariably done of late, with cool civility; indeed, it seemed to him that she was more insensible than ever to his attractions, and hastily quitted the house, much to the distress of Kitty.
"Shall I," thought he, "marry this poor girl? Shall I, who have a handsome fortune, and additional expectations to make a brilliant alliance, condescend to share my wealth with this adopted child of the Grahams? If she were one atom less charming, I would disappoint her, after all! I wonder how she'd feel if I should marry Kitty! I dare say that she would come to my wedding, bend her slender neck as gracefully as ever, and say, 'Good evening, Mr. Bruce,' as calmly as she does now, every time I go to the house! But, as Mrs. Bruce, I should be proud of that manner, certainly. I wonder how I ever got in love with her; I'm sure I don't know. She isn't handsome; mother thinks she isn't, and so does Belle Clinton. But Lieutenant Osborne noticed her the minute she came into the room; and Fan raves about her beauty. I don't know what I think myself; I believe she's bewitched me, so that I'm not capable of judging; but, if it isn't beauty, it's something more than mere good looks."
About this time, Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Bruce, with their families, received cards for a levée at the house of an acquaintance five miles distant. Mrs. Bruce, who had a close carriage, invited both the cousins to go; and, as Mr. Graham's carriage, when closed, would only accommodate himself and lady, the proposal was acceded to.
The prospect of a gay assembly revived Isabel's drooping spirits. Her rich evening dresses were brought out, and she stood before her mirror, and tied on first one wreath, and then another, and looked so beautiful in each that it was difficult to choose. Kitty, who stood by, went to consult Gertrude.
"Gertrude," said Kitty, "what shall I wear this evening? I've been trying to get Belle to tell me, but she never will hear what I ask her, when she's thinking about her own dress! She's dreadfully selfish."
"Who advises her?" asked Gertrude.
"Oh, nobody; she always decides for herself; but then she has so much taste, and I haven't the least in the world! So do tell me, Gertrude, what had I better wear to-night?"
"I'm the last person you should ask, Kitty; I never went to a fashionable party in my life."
"That doesn't make any difference. I'm sure if you did go, you'd look better than any of us; and I'm not afraid to trust to your opinion, for I never in my life saw you wear anything that didn't look genteel—even your gingham morning-gown has a sort of stylish air."
"Stop, stop, Kitty; you are going too far; you must keep within bounds if you want me to believe you."
"Well then," said Kitty, "to say nothing of yourself (for you're superior to flattery, Gertrude—somebody told me so)—who furnishes Miss Emily's wardrobe? Who selects her dresses?"
"I have done so lately, but——"
"I thought so!—I thought so!" interrupted Kitty. "I knew poor Miss Emily was indebted to you for always looking so nice and so beautiful."
"No, indeed, Kitty, you are mistaken; I have never seen Emily better dressed than she was the first time I met her; and her beauty is not borrowed from art—it is all her own."
"Oh, I know she is lovely, and everybody admires her; but no one can suppose she would take pains to wear such pretty things, and put them on so gracefully, just to please herself."
"It is not done merely to please herself; it was to please her father that Emily first made the exertion to dress with taste as well as neatness. I have heard that, for some time after she lost her eyesight, she was disposed to be very careless; but, having accidentally discovered that it was an additional cause of sorrow to him, she roused herself at once, and, with Mrs. Ellis's assistance, contrived always afterwards to please him in that particular. But you observe, Kitty, she never wears anything showy or conspicuous."
"No, indeed, that is what I like; but, Gertrude, hasn't she always been blind?"
"No; until she was sixteen she had beautiful eyes, and could see as well as you can."
"What happened to her? How did she lose them?"
"I don't know."
"Didn't you ever ask?"
"No."
"Why not?—how queer!"
"I heard that she didn't like to speak of it."
"But she would have told you; she worships you."
"If she had wished me to know, she would have told without my asking."
Kitty stared at Gertrude, wondering much at such unusual delicacy and consideration, and instinctively admiring a forbearance of which she was conscious she should herself have been incapable.
"But your dress!" said Gertrude, smiling at Kitty's abstraction.
"Oh, yes! I had almost forgotten what I came here for," said Kitty. "What shall it be, then—thick or thin; pink, blue, or white?"
"What has Isabel decided upon?"
"Blue—a rich blue silk; that is her favourite colour, always; but it doesn't become me."
"No, I should think not," said Gertrude; "but come, Kitty, we will go to your room and see the dresses, and I will give my opinion."
Kitty's wardrobe having been inspected, a delicate white crape was fixed upon. And now her head-dresses did not prove satisfactory. "I cannot wear any of them," said Kitty; "they look so mean by the side of Isabel's; but oh!" exclaimed she, glancing at a box which lay on the dressing-table, "these are just what I should like! Oh, Isabel, where did you get these beautiful carnations?" and she took up some flowers which were, indeed, a rare imitation of nature, and, displaying them to Gertrude, added that they were just what she wanted.
"Oh, Kitty," said Isabel, angrily, "don't touch my flowers! you will spoil them!" and snatching them from her, she replaced them in the box, and deposited them in the bureau, and locked them up—an action which Gertrude witnessed with astonishment, mingled with indignation.
"Kitty," said she, "I will arrange a wreath of natural flowers for you, if you wish."
"Will you, Gertrude?" said the disappointed and provoked Kitty. "Oh that will be delightful. I should like it of all things! And, Isabel, you cross old miser, you can keep all your wreaths to yourself!"
Gertrude prepared a head-dress for Kitty; and tastefully mingled the choicest productions of the garden, that, when Isabel saw her cousin look so beautiful with it, she felt a sharp pang of jealousy of Kitty and dislike to Gertrude.