Julia was tall and slender, and a brunette, with clear, olive complexion, high color, sparkling black eyes, and a quantity of glossy, black hair, of which she was very proud, and which she usually wore becomingly, let the fashion be what it might. Some people called her beautiful, but that she could never be with her wide mouth and large ears, but she certainly was handsome and bright, and could, if she chose, be very agreeable and fascinating, but, except with her equals, she did not often choose, and was known in town as a proud, haughty girl, caring only for herself and the few favored ones belonging to her circle. And yet she taught in Sunday-school, and made dresses and aprons for the poor, and esteemed herself almost a saint, because she once carried with her own hands a dish of soup to poor, old, bedridden Mrs. Vandeusenhisen, whose grandchild was called for Alice at the instigation of the mischievous Godfrey.
Both Julia and Alice went sometimes on errands of mercy, and wore gray cloaks with scarlet facings to the cape, and felt themselves on a par with the sisters of charity, and had a lump of camphor in their pockets to prevent contagion, and asked the little ones if they knew the Creed, and the Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, affecting great surprise if they did not, and telling them if they did that they ought to be confirmed at once and grow up respectable citizens.
Very different from these young ladies was pale-faced, quiet Emma, who believed everybody to be what he seemed, and wished herself as good as Alice and Julia, who were so devout at church, and who read a long chapter every morning and a short psalm every night. Emma did not like to read the Bible, and always glanced ahead to see how long the chapter was, and felt glad when it was ended. And she did not like to visit the poor because as a general thing the close air of the rooms made her sick, and she was always unhappy for a whole day with thinking about them and fancying how she would feel were she also poor.
And yet of the three girls I liked Emma best, for I knew just how true, and honest, and innocent she was, and that though she too was proud, she tried to overcome her pride, because she thought it wrong, and in her heart had a sincere desire to do just what was right. No one ever called Emma handsome; her features were too sharp for that, but there was something in her smile and the expression of her soft, dark eyes which made her very attractive, and, as I thought, prettier than Julia herself.
Take them altogether the ladies at Schuyler Hill were quite distingué in manner and appearance, and we were rather proud to have them with us, for their presence added something of importance to our little town, and gave a certain éclat to our society. Nor was their governess, Miss Helen Browning, much behind in style and personal appearance. Indeed, she prided herself upon manner and good breeding, and knew every point of etiquette, from sitting bolt-upright in her chair, with just the two tips of her boots visible, to eating soup with the side of her spoon, and never on any account allowing her hands to touch the table.
And now, last of all, comes Mrs. Tiffe, the housekeeper, a dignified, energetic woman of fifty, who wore black silk every day, with pink ribbons in her cap, and who, after several hard-fought battles with Miss Rossiter for the supremacy, had come off victorious, and reigned triumphant at Schuyler Hill, where she feared no one save the colonel himself, and liked no one but Godfrey. He was her idol, and he alone could unlock the mysterious closet under the stairs, and call forth jam, and jelly, and even marmalade, if he liked. Such lunches as she gave the ladies when they were alone, and Godfrey not there to coax, or the colonel to insist! A chicken wing and back, with a slice of bread and butter, and possibly a baked apple, if there chanced to be any “standing round” in danger of spoiling; while her breakfasts were delicate and dainty enough for a fairy, or the worst form which dyspepsia ever assumed. “Frugal repasts,” Godfrey called them; but for their frugality Mrs. Tiffe made amends at dinner, which was served with great profusion, and all the elegance the house could command. Nothing was too nice for dinner; and Mrs. Tiffe, felt her heart swell with pride when she saw her ladies, handsomely dressed, filing into the spacious dining-room, where the table was bright with silver and flowers. To her the Schuylers and Rossiters represented the world, and anybody outside that world, unless it were Miss Creighton, was looked upon with disgust, and barely tolerated. Miss Christine, it is true, was not a favorite, but she was a Rossiter, and Mrs. Tiffe charged all her faults to the fact that “she was an old maid, and couldn’t help being queer,” and so endured her quietly when her own wishes were not opposed.
And this was the household into which the news of Col. Schuyler’s second marriage fell like a bombshell in the enemy’s camp, wounding each one, and wringing from each one a cry according to her disposition. But for a description of this I must take a fresh sheet and begin another chapter.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE NEWS AT SCHUYLER HILL.
It came to them one sultry August morning, when the thermometer was 90 degrees in the shade, and the air was like a furnace even before nine o’clock. Breakfast was very late that morning, and Mrs. Tiffe was furious. She had committed the extravagance of broiled chicken and muffins, which of course were spoiled, and she had herself been up since four o’clock and was in a melting condition, in spite of the thinnest muslin she could find and the coolest garments she could wear. Miss Rossiter had not slept well, and, as was her custom after a restless night, she loitered in bed, and dawdled over her toilet and bath, and took so much time in dressing, that the clock was striking nine when she at last entered the dining-room, followed by the three girls and their governess, all panting and inveighing against the weather, except Emma. She liked it. Naturally chilly and cold, the heat suited her, and her face alone was pleasant and contented as she took her seat at the table and attacked the cold chicken and half-warm, heavy muffins, which her dyspeptic aunt could not eat.