Family Pride; Or, Purified by Suffering

by Mary Jane Holmes

Dec.—th.—Another drill, with Juno commanding officer, while the poor little private seemed completely worried out. This time there were open doors, but so absorbed were mother and Juno as not to hear the bell, and just as Juno was saying, "Now, imagine me Mrs. General Reynolds, to whom you are being presented," while Katy was bowing almost to the floor, who should appear but Mark Ray, stumbling square upon that ludicrous rehearsal, and of course bringing it to an end. No explanation was made, nor was any needed, for Mark's face showed that he understood it, and it was as much as he could do to keep from roaring with merriment; I am sure he pitied Katy, for his manner toward her was very affectionate and kind, and when once she left the room he complimented her highly, repeating many things he had heard in her praise from those who had seen her both in the street and here at home. Juno's face was like a thundercloud, for she was as much in love with Mark Ray as she was once with Dr. Grant, and is even jealous of his praise of Katy. Glad am I that I never yet saw the man who could make me jealous, or for whom I cared a pin. There's Bob Reynolds up at West Point. I suppose I do think his epaulettes very becoming to him, but his hair is too light and he cannot raise whiskers big enough to cast a shadow on the wall, while I know he looks with contempt upon females who write, even though their writings never see the light of day; thinks them strong-minded, self-willed, and all that. He is expected to be present at the party, but I shall not be. I had rather stay at home and finish that article entitled "Women of the Present Century," and suggested to my mind by my Sister Katy, who stands for the picture I am drawing of a pretty woman, with more heart than brains, contrasting her with such a one as Juno, her opposite extreme.

January 10.—The last time I wrote in my journal was just before the party, which is over now, the long-talked-of affair at which Katy was the reigning belle. I don't know how it happened, but happen it did, and Juno's glory faded before that of her rival, whose merry, ringing laugh frequently penetrated to every room, and made more than one look up in some surprise. But when Mrs. Humphreys said: "It's that charming little Mrs. Cameron, the prettiest creature I ever saw, her laugh is so refreshing and genuine," the point was settled, and Katy was free to laugh as loudly as she pleased.

She did look beautiful, in lace and pearls, with her short hair curling on her neck. She would not allow us to put so much as a bud in her hair, showing in this respect a willfulness we never expected; but as she was perfectly irresistible, we suffered her to have her way, and when she was dressed, sent her in to father, who had asked to see her. And now comes the strangest thing in the world.

"You are very beautiful, little daughter," father said. "I almost wish I was going with you to see the sensation you are sure to create."

Then straight into his lap climbed Katy—father's lap—where none of us ever sat, I am sure, and began to coax him to go, telling him she should appear better if he were there, and that she should need him when Wilford left her, as of course he must a part of the time. And father actually dressed himself and went. But Katy did not need him after the people began to understand that Mrs. Wilford Cameron was the rage. Even Sybil Grey, in her palmiest days, never received such homage as was paid to the little Silverton girl, whose great charm was her perfect enjoyment of everything, and her perfect faith in what people said to her. Juno was nothing, and I worse than nothing, for I did go, wearing a plain black silk, with high neck and long sleeves, looking, as Juno said, like a Sister of Charity. But Bell Cameron can afford to dress plainly if she chooses, and I am glad, as it saves a deal of trouble, and somehow people seem to like me quite as well in my Quakerish dress as they do the fashionable Juno in diamonds and flowers, with uncovered neck and shoulders.

Lieutenant Bob was there; his light hair lighter than ever, and his chin as smooth as my hand. He likes to dance, and I do not, but somehow he persisted in staying where I was, notwithstanding that I said my sharpest things in hopes to get rid of him. He left me at last to dance with Katy, who makes up in grace and airiness what she lacks in knowledge. Once upon the floor, she did not lack for partners, but, I verily believe, danced every set, growing prettier and fairer as she danced, for hers is a complexion which does not get red and blowsy with exercise.

Mark Ray was there, too, and I saw him smile comically when Katy met the people with that bow she was making at the time he came so suddenly upon us. Mark is a good fellow, and I really think we have him to thank in a measure for Katy's successful _début_. He was the first to take her from Wilford, walking with her up and down the hall by way of reassuring her, and once as they passed me I heard her say:

"I feel so timid here—so much afraid of doing something wrong—something countrified."

"Never mind," he answered. "Act yourself just as you would were you at home in Silverton, where you are known. That is far better than affecting a manner not natural to you."

After that Katy brightened wonderfully. The stiffness which at first was perceptible passed off, and she was Katy Lennox, queening it over all the city belles, who, because she was married, would not be jealous—drawing after her a host of gentlemen, and between the sets holding a miniature court at one end of the room, where the more desirable of the guests crowded around; flattering her until her little head ought to have been turned if it was not. To do her justice, she bore her honors well, and when we were in the carriage, and father complimented her upon her success, she only said: