CHAPTER FOURTH.
It was a frosty and dark evening, early in the following February, when Walter and Lyford went into Boston, to meet a party of friends at the house of Mr. Elliott, a gentleman who had recently come from Europe, and whose commercial operations were, in future, to be conducted with England and her American colonies. Mr. Elliott was wealthy, intelligent and highly respected by all classes. It was deemed a high privilege among the young gentlemen of the town, to be on visiting terms with his family. His son, James, was amiable and agreeable, and Miss Margaret Elliott was a decided belle. The good people of those days were sometimes annoyed by the style of her dress, which was somewhat in advance of the prevalent fashions, and was always formed upon the best London or Paris models, though greatly modified and adapted to the New England taste. Among the younger maidens, she would frequently encounter looks of admiration or envy, according to the taste or temper of the parties. But Miss Elliott insisted she could accommodate herself no further to the prevalent scruples concerning dress, and as she was a most amiable girl, condescending and affable to all, her imagined vanity and love of fashion was generally forgiven.
The large hall of Mr. Elliott's house was brilliantly lighted, and at seven o'clock the company began to assemble. They were received at the door by a servant, and the ladies and gentlemen conducted to different rooms, where the servants assisted in the arrangement of their dresses. On entering the hall, they were received by Mr. Elliott, who presented each to Mrs. Elliott, according to the etiquette of the day, and the parties then dispersed themselves about the room.
When the young gentlemen from Cambridge arrived, the spacious rooms were nearly filled with guests: the beauty and pride of the town were present, members of the learned professions, several clergymen with their families, Governor Stoughton, Judge Sewall and other eminent men of the day, to whom these hours of recreation were among the greenest spots in their lives of professional labor and care; but for the youthful part of the company, these occasions possessed the highest charm. The morning of life, as yet unclouded by care, and spreading its pictures of joy on every hill, and crowning even the distant and snow-clad steeps of old age with a visionary green, was too balmy and bright to be false, too serene and beautiful to be deformed by sudden tempest or a threatening sky. So reasons the mind in its early views of life; such were the hopes and expectations of these young men and maidens, as they looked through the vista of time. Yet was there nothing in the nature of these social enjoyments which might not challenge the scrutiny of even the most rigid and severe. There were no card tables, no merry dances, nor frivolous games; yet conversation was sprightly, good humored, and sometimes gay; the interchange of social courtesies was cordial and sincere, and the mirth of the occasion, if it might be called such, was neither excessive nor unbecoming.
'You can boast the belle of the flowers to-night,' said James Elliott to his cousin, Miss Hallam; 'it seems like a rare exotic, and is a perfect novelty to me; pray tell me where you obtained it.'
'I had it, James,' said Caroline, 'from one of the mountains of the moon. You know our own supply of flowers in winter is very small.'
'You are dealing in riddles, Miss Hallam. Pray explain: I would like to know where more might be had.'
'I have told you, James, already: will you never believe me?'