The Cameron pride; or, purified by suffering

by Mary Jane Holmes

Katy was very happy that morning, for seeing Marian had brought Silverton near to her, and airy as a bird she ran up the steps of her own dwelling, where the door opened as by magic, and Wilford himself confronted her, asking, with the tone which always made her heart beat, where she had been, and he waiting for her two whole hours. “Surely it was not necessary to stop so long with a seamstress,” he continued when she tried to explain. “Ten minutes would suffice for directions,” and he could not imagine what attraction there was in Miss Hazelton to keep her there three hours, and then the real cause of his vexation came out. He had come expressly for the carriage to take her and Sybil Grandon to a picnic up the river, whither his mother, Juno and Bell, had already gone. Mrs. Grandon must wonder why he stayed so long, and perhaps give up going. Could Katy be ready soon? and Wilford walked rapidly up and down the parlor with a restless motion of his hands which always betokened impatience. Poor Katy! how the brightness of the morning faded, and how averse she felt to joining that picnic, which she knew had been in prospect for some time, and had fancied she should enjoy! But not to-day, with that look on Wilford’s face, and the feeling that he was vexed. Still she could think of no reasonable excuse, and so an hour later found her driving into the country with Sybil Grandon, who received her apologies with as much good-natured grace as if she too had not worked herself into a passion at the delay, for Sybil had been very cross and impatient; but all this vanished when she met Wilford and saw that he was disturbed and irritated. Soft, and sweet, and smooth was she both in word and manner, so that by the time the grove was reached Wilford’s ruffled spirits had been soothed, and he was himself again, ready to enjoy the pleasures of the day as keenly as if no harsh word had been said to Katy, who, silent and unhappy, listened to the graceful badinage between Sybil and her husband, thinking how differently his voice had sounded when addressing her only a little while before.

“Pray put some animation into your face, or Mrs. Grandon will think we have been quarreling,” Wilford whispered, as he lifted his wife from the carriage, and with a great effort Katy tried to be gay and natural.

But all the while she was fighting back her tears and wishing she were away. Even Marian’s room, looking into the dingy court, was preferable to that place, and she was glad when the long day came to an end, and with a fearful headache she was riding back to the city.

The next morning was dark and rainy; but in spite of the weather Katy found her way to Marian’s room, this time taking the —— avenue cars, which left her independent as regarded the length of her stay. About Marian there was something more congenial than about her city friends, and day after day found her there, watching while Marian fashioned into shape the beautiful little garments, the sight of which had a strangely quieting influence upon Katy, sobering her down and maturing her more than all the years of her life had done. Those were happy hours spent with Marian Hazelton, and Katy felt it keenly when Wilford at last interfered, telling her she was growing quite too familiar with that sewing woman, and her calls must be discontinued, except, indeed, such as were necessary to the work in progress.

With one great gush of tears, when there was no one to see her, Katy gave Marian up, writing her a note, in which were sundry directions for the work, which would go on even after she had left for the Mountain House, as she intended doing the last of June. And Marian guessed at more than Katy meant she should, and with a bitter sigh laid it in her basket, and then resumed the work, which seemed doubly monotonous now that there was no more listening for the little feet tripping up the stairs, or for the bird-like voice which had brought so much of music and sunshine to her lonely room.

CHAPTER XIX.
SARATOGA AND NEWPORT.

For three weeks Katy had been at the Mountain House, growing stronger every day, until she was much like the Katy of one year ago. But their stay among the Catskills was ended, and on the morrow they were going to Saratoga, where Mrs. Cameron and her daughters were, and where, too, was Sybil Grandon, the reigning belle of the United States. So Bell had written to her brother, bidding him hasten on with Katy, as she wished to see “that chit of a widow in her proper place.” And Katy had been weak enough for a moment to feel a throb of satisfaction in knowing how effectually Sybil’s claims to belle-ship would be put aside when she was once in the field; even glancing at herself in the mirror as she leaned on Wilford’s shoulder, and feeling glad that mountain air and mountain exercise had brought the roses back to her white cheeks and the brightness to her eyes. But Katy wept passionate tears of repentance for that weakness, when an hour later she read the letter which Dr. Grant had sent in answer to one she had written from the Mountain House, confessing her short-comings, and lamenting that the evils and excesses which shocked her once did not startle her now. To this letter Morris had replied as a brother might write to an only sister, first expressing pleasure at her happiness, and then reminding her of that other life to which this is only a preparation, and beseeching her so to use the good things of this world, given her in such profusion, as not to lose the life eternal.

This was the substance of Morris’s letter, which Katy read with streaming eyes, forgetting Saratoga as Morris’s solemn words of warning and admonition rang in her ears, and shuddering as she thought of losing the life eternal, of going where Morris would never come, nor any of those she loved the best, unless it were Wilford, who might reproach her with having dragged him there when she could have saved him.

“Keep yourself unspotted from the world,” Morris had said, and she repeated it to herself, asking “how shall I do that? how can one be good and fashionable too?”

Then laying her head upon the rock where she was sitting, Katy tried to pray as she had not prayed in months, asking that God would teach her what she ought to know and keep her unspotted from the world. But at the Mountain House it is easier to pray that one be kept from temptation than it is at Saratoga, which this summer was crowded to overflowing, its streets presenting a fitting picture of Vanity Fair, so full were they of show and gala dress. At the United States, where Mrs. Cameron stopped, two rooms, for which an enormous price was paid, had been reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Wilford Cameron, and this of itself would have given them a certain éclat, even if there had not been present many who remembered the proud, fastidious bachelor, and were proportionately anxious to see his wife. She came, she saw, she conquered; and within three days after her arrival Katy Cameron was the acknowledged belle of Saratoga, from the United States to the Clarendon. And Katy, alas, was not quite the same as she who on the mountain ridge had sat with Morris’s letter in her hand, praying that its teachings might not be forgotten. Saratoga seemed different to her from New York, and she plunged into its gaieties, never pausing, never tiring, and seldom giving herself time to think; much less to pray, as Morris had bidden her do. And Wilford, though hardly able to recognize the usually timid Katy in the brilliant woman who led rather than followed, was sure of her faith to him, and so was only proud and gratified to see her bear off the palm from every competitor, while Juno, though she quarreled with the shadow into which she was so completely thrown, enjoyed the éclat cast upon their party by the presence of Mrs. Wilford, who had passed beyond her criticism. Sybil Grandon, too, stood back in wonder that a simple country girl should win and wear the laurels she had so long claimed as her own; but as there was no help for it she contented herself as best she could with the admiration she did receive, and whenever opportunity occurred, said bitter things of Mrs. Wilford, whose parentage and low estate were through her pretty generally known. But it did not matter there what Katy had been; the people took her for what she was now, and Sybil’s glory faded like the early dawn in the coming of the full day.