I drew back, for to me there was nothing pleasing in the idea of being disturbed every time a lump of sugar, a piece of coal, or a pan of flour was wanted, so I said, “If my husband is willing I’d rather you’d keep them yourself, as I know you are trusty.”
Hagar’s face brightened perceptibly and I am induced to think she forgot in a measure my misfortune in having been born in a free state! At all events I have not now a more devoted servant than Hagar, who declares me to be a “perfect lady,” and who has more than once ventured the treasonable remark, that “if all de Free State folks is like Miss Rose, she’ll be boun’ she’d like to live thar!” Regularly each morning she comes to me and asks “what Miss would like for dinner,” and regularly each morning “Miss” answers, “Dear me, Hagar, I don’t know; get what you like:” feeling confident the while that the programme is already made out and that any material suggestion from me would be superfluous. So much for mistress and slave.
With his usual generosity, my husband made all of the negroes presents in honor of his marriage; offering for Bill’s acceptance a silver watch, which he had purchased for him in Charleston. Taking the timepiece in his hand, Bill examined it attentively, held it to his ear, put it in his pocket, looked at the key, and then handing it back to his master, said, “no ‘fence, mars’r, but if you please thar’s somethin’ I’d like better.”
“Very well, what is it?” asked Richard; and Bill answered, “Why, you see, Mars’r, how dem hosses, Fred and Ferd, has never had proper ’spect showed to thar memory. To be sure, I wars a weed on my hat and I ’fused to gine in de dance t’odder night, but that’s nothin’. Ferd had too high blood in him to keer for an ole nigger’s mournin’, and what I wants is for you to paint de stable black, and that I reckons will show ’em proper ’tention. What do you say, Miss Rose?”
As the horses had fallen in my cause, I readily espoused Bill’s project for the novelty of the thing, if nothing else; and should any one of my readers visit Sunny Bank, which I wish they may, they will see the stables wearing a hue as dark as Bill himself, who has now a pair of iron-greys, which he calls “Richard” and “Rose,” notwithstanding that both are of the masculine gender. These, particularly the latter, are the pride of Bill’s heart, and when the year of mourning has expired, he intends, he says, to have the stable painted “yaller,” that being the color of a young girl who has lately made sad havoc with his affections!
Here I may as well say that Mrs. Lansing managed until she procured the desired piano, which came in company with another, a much nicer one, on the front of which was inscribed “Rose, from her husband.” In return for her brother’s gift, Mrs. Lansing made a large party, where I had an opportunity of wearing my bridal dress, together with a costly set of diamonds, which I found upon my table, when I went up to make my toilet. It did not need the simple word “Richard” on a bit of paper to tell me whence they came, and the tears started to my eyes when I thought how kind he was, while I was conscious of a glow of pride, when I saw little Rosa Lee flashing with diamonds, which encircled her arms and neck, and shone among the curls of her hair. Bertha, my tasteful waiting maid—for I am getting quite southernized—pronounced me beautiful, as she gave the finishing stroke to my toilet, while one, for whose judgment I cared still more, and who all the time had been conning his evening paper, apparently oblivious to the presence of white satin, point lace, orange flowers and diamonds, responded, “Yes, Bertha, your young mistress is beautiful.”
Dress does make a vast deal of difference in one’s looks, and if that night two-thirds of the three hundred particular friends, whose hands I shook, pronounced me “beautiful, handsome, charming, lovely,” and all that, it was owing chiefly, I think, to the fitness of my robes, and the brilliancy of my diamonds. These last were the subject of much remark, they being the finest which had ever been worn in W——, Ada very good-naturedly saying, “she hoped my good fortune wouldn’t quite turn my head!”
Mrs. Lansing’s party was followed by many more, and ere I was aware of it Mrs. Richard Delafield was quite a belle—what she said, what she did, and what she wore being pronounced au fait by the fashionables of W——. Upon all this Ada looked jealously; never allowing an opportunity to pass without speaking slightingly of me, though always careful that Richard should not know of it. In his presence she was vastly kind, sitting at my feet, calling me “Aunty,” and treating me as if I had been twenty years her senior. At first she spent much more of her time at Sunny Bank than was at all agreeable to me, and I was not sorry when a little incident occurred which in a measure tended to keep her away. She had always been in the habit of treating my husband with a great show of affection, and now that he was, as she said, “an old married man,” she seemed to think it no matter how much she caressed him. Even I dared not seat myself upon his knee as coolly as she would, and her temerity troubled me, particularly as I knew it was annoying to him. This I must have manifested in some way, for one morning, when as usual she entered our room without knocking, and perched herself on Richard’s knee, he pushed her off, saying, half in earnest, half in jest, “Don’t act so foolish, Ada, you make me sick, for now that I have Rose to pet me I can easily dispense with your caresses, which are rather too much of a good thing.”
Ada was angry, and with a little hateful laugh, she said, turning to me, “jealous, I suppose, and have read your better half a lecture on propriety. When I marry, I trust I shall have faith enough in my husband’s love for me, not to care even if he does chance to look at some one else.”
I knew Richard would vindicate my cause, so I remained silent while he answered, “You do Rose injustice, for never have we exchanged a word concerning the manner you have assumed towards me, and which I should suppose your own sense of propriety would condemn. Were you my wife, ’twould be different.”