CHAPTER XXVII.
MRS. CARTER STANDS BY HER OLD FRIENDS.
Mrs. Carter had that profound respect for her own taste which springs out of utter ignorance; and her great party would have been something wonderful in the way of shoddyism, but for the gentle and kindly interference of her brother Ross. But she looked upon him with something like adoration, for his opinions were so modestly given, that they seemed to originate in herself. Thus he had sent the gorgeous pictures from her boudoir to Battles’ room in the stable, and after them went many an object of inestimable value to the lady, but which were received by the aesthetic coachman with a sniff of critical contempt.
Up to this time the contractor’s lady had reveled in the adornment of her house. She had often heard it said that certain persons of her new circle, who had shot up like mushrooms in the unhealthy atmosphere of our civil war, owed all that was elegant in their establishments to the artists and upholsterers they employed. This was a charge Mrs. Carter resolved should never be brought against her. So, after six months of hard worry and interminable shopping, an effect was produced of promiscuous gorgeousness, that was wonderful to behold. The really refined persons who began to patronize her, were so completely surprised by this display, that she mistook their amused astonishment for admiration. This inspired her with new ambition, and she plunged into attempts at harmony and contrast, that fairly set the beholder’s teeth on edge as words of hollow flattery passed through them.
Thus it was that Mr. Ross found his sister and her habitation. Carpets, gorgeously independent of draperies; florid frescoes, statues in deep shadow; flaming vases in the light; mirrors in every available space; and pictures, such pictures! in magnificent frames, surrounded him on every side. But genius is great, and money all potent. Out of this confusion, the man of real taste soon produced effects harmonious as a poem; and no person could enter that mansion with an idea that its arrangement had been left either to an upholsterer or to an ignorant woman. Soon Mrs. Carter saw how much more beautiful everything had become, and gloried in it.
Having surrendered so much to her brother, she was ready to yield to him in all things connected with her social life. When he suggested the purchase of Ruth Laurence’s sketches, and asked for an invitation to the party, for which cards were about to be issued, she consented at once, and thus fell in with her old crony and friend, Mrs. Smith.
One afternoon, Mrs. Carter came home in a state of unusual excitement. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled, and her style was like that of a warrior preparing for battle. Without stopping to take off her things, she mounted to her brother’s studio, which was in the very top of the building.
“Herman,” she said, sitting down by her brother’s easel, “I’ve got myself into a scrape, and I want you to help me out. Not that I need help, if Carter wasn’t so uppish about such things; but he was determined that I should give up the old set for good and all, when I came in here—and so I did. The day I went to see that Miss Laurence, who should come in but my old neighbor, Mrs. Smith, just as good, whole-hearted a woman as ever lived. Of course, I was glad to see her—my heart not being a nether millstone, nor yet a junk of ice. Then she was natural as life, thinking, no doubt, that I should keep her at arms-length, because of all this silk and lace, and bracelets, and she only in a calico-dress. I hadn’t the heart to do it, Herman; old neighbors are old neighbors; and, between you and me, brother, I’m not certain that them old times were so much worse than these. At an rate, my heart warmed to Mrs. Smith, and that child of hers, so that I hated to come home.”
Here Mrs. Carter walked to the window, passed a hand over her eyes once or twice and came back again.
“Mrs. Smith has got a splendid baby, you know; and holding it in my arms was such a heart-aching treat, after all that we have lost, Carter and I. It’s a thing we never mention between us; but the sight of a fine, wholesome baby is sure to make my breath come quick. After losing three of them, and none left, and this house built with a nursery, it’s heart-rending to think of; and I couldn’t help thinking that Mrs. Smith was richer than I was, after all.
“Well, we took dinner together—ham and eggs—real old times; and cooked so nice. So, while the old home-feeling took full hold of me, I up and gave my old friend a card for my party, having one in my pocket at the time. This was the reason of my doing it, unthinkingly, as one may say, and long in advance of other people. She was so pleased—tickled almost to death; and is going to buy a new mory-antique, and—what will please you, I know—says that she will bring Miss Eva Laurance with her—carriage-hire being all the same for three as for two.”