CHAPTER XVII.THE NEW HOUSE.
It was a cruel thing for Wilford Cameron to try to separate Katy from the hearts which loved her so much; and, as if he felt reproached, there was an increased tenderness in his manner towards her, particularly as he saw how sad she was for a few days after his decision. But Katy could not be sorry long, and in the excitement of settling the new house her spirits rallied, and her merry laugh trilled like a bird through the rooms where the workmen were so busy, and where Mrs. Cameron was the real superintendent, though there was sometimes a show of consulting Katy, who nevertheless was a mere cipher in the matter. In everything the mother had her way, until it came to the room designed for Helen, and which Mrs. Cameron was for converting into a kind of smoking or lounging room for Wilford and his associates. Katy must not expect him to be always as devoted to her as he had been during the winter, she said. He had a great many bachelor friends, and now that he had a house of his own, it was natural that he should have some place where they could spend an hour or so with him without the restraint of ladies’ society, and this was just the room—large, airy, quiet, and so far from the parlors that the odor of the smoke could not reach them.
Katy had submitted to much without knowing that she was submitting; but something Bell had dropped that morning had awakened a suspicion that possibly she was being ignored, and the wicked part of Helen would have enjoyed the look in her eye as she said, not to Mrs. Cameron, but to Wilford, “I have from the very first decided this chamber for Helen, and I cannot give it up for a smoking room. You never had one at home. Why did you not, if it is so necessary?”
Wilford could not tell her that his mother would as soon have brought into her house one of Barnum’s shows, as to have had a room set apart for smoking, which she specially disliked; neither could he at once reply at all, so astonished was he at this sudden flash of spirit. Mrs. Cameron was the first to rally, and in her usual quiet tone she said, “I did not know that your sister was to form a part of your household. When do you expect her?” and her cold gray eyes rested steadily upon Katy, who never before so fully realized the distance there was between her husband’s friends and her own. But as the worm will turn when trampled on, so Katy, though hitherto powerless to defend herself, roused in Helen’s behalf, and in a tone as quiet and decided as that of her mother-in-law, replied, “She will come whenever I write for her. It was arranged from the first. Wasn’t it, Wilford?” and she turned to her husband, who, unwilling to decide between a wife he loved and a mother whose judgment he considered infallible, affected not to hear her, and stole from the room, followed by Mrs. Cameron, so that Katy was left mistress of the field.
After that no one interfered in her arrangement of Helen’s room, which, with far less expense than Mrs. Cameron would have done, she fitted up so cosily that Wilford pronounced it the pleasantest room in the house, while Bell went into ecstasies over it, and even Juno might have unbent enough to praise it, were it not for Mark Ray, who, from being tacitly claimed by Juno, was frequently admitted to their counsels, and had asked the privilege of contributing to Helen’s room a handsome volume of German poetry, such as he fancied she might enjoy. So long as Mark’s attentions were not bestowed in any other quarter Juno was comparatively satisfied, but the moment he swerved a hair’s breadth from the line she had marked out, her anger was aroused; and now, remembering his commendations of Helen Lennox, she hated her as cordially as one jealous girl can hate another whom she has not seen, making Katy so uncomfortable, without knowing what was the matter, that she hailed the morning of her exit from No.—— as the brightest since her marriage.
It was a very happy day for Katy, and when she firstsat down to dinner in her own home, her face shone with a joy which even the presence of her mother-in-law could not materially lessen. She would rather have been alone with Wilford, it is true, but as her choice was not consulted she submitted cheerfully, proudly taking her rightful place at the table, and doing the honors so well that Mrs. Cameron, in speaking of it to her daughters, acknowledged that Wilford had little to fear if Katy always appeared as much at ease as she did that day. A thought similar to this passed through the mind of Wilford, who was very observant of such matters, and that night, after his mother was gone, he warmly commended Katy, but spoiled the pleasure his commendations would have given by telling her next, as if one thought suggested the other, that Sybil Grandon had returned, that he saw her on Broadway, accepting her invitation to a seat in her carriage which brought him to his door. She had made many inquiries concerning Katy, expressing a great curiosity to see her, and saying that as she drove past the house that morning, she was strongly tempted to waive all ceremony and run in, knowing she should be pardoned for the sake of Auld Lang Syne, when she was privileged to take liberties with the Camerons. All this Wilford repeated to Katy, but he did not tell her how at the words Auld Lang Syne, Sybil had turned her fine eyes upon him with an expression which made him color, for he knew she was referring to the time when her name and his were always coupled together.
Katy had dreaded the return of Sybil Grandon, of whom she had heard so much, and now that she had come, she felt for a moment a terror of meeting her which she tried to shake off, succeeded at last, for perfect faith in Wilford was to her a strong shield of defence, and her only trouble was a fear lest she should fall in the scale of comparison which might be instituted between herself and Mrs. Grandon, who after a few days ceased to be a bugbear, Wilford never mentioning her again, and Katy only hearing of her through Juno and Bell, the first of whom went into raptures over her, while the latter styled her a silly, coquettish widow, who would appear much better to have worn her weeds a little longer, and not throw herself quiteso soon into the market. That she should of course meet her some time, Katy knew, but she would not distress herself till the time arrived, and so she dismissed her fears, or rather lost them in the excitement of her new dignity as mistress of a house.
In her girlhood Katy had evinced a taste for housekeeping, which now developed so rapidly that she won the respect of all the servants, from the man who answered the bell to the accomplished cook, hired by Mrs. Cameron, and who, like most accomplished cooks, was sharp and cross and opinionated, but who did not find it easy to scold the blithe little woman who every morning came flitting into her dominions, not asking what they would have for dinner, as she had been led to suppose she would, butorderingit with a matter of course air, which amused the usually overbearing Mrs. Phillips. But when the little lady, rolling her sleeves above her dimpled elbows and donning the clean white apron which Phillips was reserving for afternoon, announced her intention of surprising Wilford, with a pudding such as Aunt Betsy used to make, there were signs of rebellion, Phillips telling her bluntly that she couldn’t be bothered—that it was not a lady’s place in the kitchen under foot—that the other Mrs. Cameron never did it, and would not like it in Mrs. Wilford.
For a moment Katy paused and looked straight at Mrs. Phillips; then said, quietly, “I have only six eggs here—the recipe is ten. Bring me four more, please.”
There was something in the blue eyes which compelled obedience, and the dessert progressed without another word of remonstrance. But when the door bell rang, and word came down that there were ladies in the parlor—Juno, with some one else—Phillips would not tell her of theflouron her hair; and as Katy, after casting aside her apron and putting down her sleeves, only glanced hastily at herself in the hall mirror as she passed it, she appeared in the parlor with this mark upon her curls, and greatly to her astonishment was presented to “Mrs. Sybil Grandon,” Juno explaining, that as Sybil was anxious to see her, and they were passing the house, she had presumed upon her privilege as a sister and brought her in.
For a moment the room turned dark, it was so sudden,so unexpected, and she so unprepared; but Sybil’s familiar manner quieted her, and she was able at last to look fully at her visitor, finding hernotas handsome as she expected, nor as young, but in all other respects she had not perhaps been exaggerated. Cultivated and self-possessed, she was very pleasing in her manner, making Katy feel wholly at ease by a few well-timed compliments, which had the merit of seeming genuine, so perfect was she in the art of deception.
To Katy she was very gracious, admiring her house, admiring herself, admiring everything, until Katy wondered how she could ever have dreaded to meet her, laughing and chatting as familiarly as if the fashionable woman were not criticising every movement, and every act, and every feature of her face, wondering most at theflourupon her hair!
Juno wondered, too, but knowing Katy’s domestic propensities, suspected the truth, and feigning some errand with Phillips, she excused herself for a moment and descended to the kitchen, where she was not long in hearing about Katy’s “queer ways, coming where she was not needed, and making country puddings after some heathenish aunt’s rule.”
“Was it Aunt Betsy?” Juno asked, her face betokening its disgust when told that she was right, and her manner on her return to the parlor was very frigid towards Katy, who had discovered the flour on her hair, and was laughing merrily over it, telling Sybil how it happened—how cross Phillips was—and lastly, how “our folks” often made the pudding, and that was why she wished to surprise Wilford with it.
There was a sarcastic smile upon Sybil’s lip as she wished Mrs. Cameron success and then departed, leaving Katy to finish the dessert, which, when ready for the table, was certainly very inviting, and would have tempted the appetite of any man who had not been listening to gossip not wholly conducive to his peace of mind.
On his way home Wilford had stopped at his fathers, where Juno was relating the particulars of her call upon his wife, and as she did not think it necessary to stop for him, he heard of Katy’s misdoings, and her general appearancein the presence of Sybil Grandon, whom she entertained with a description of “our folks’” favorite dishes, together with Aunt Betsy’s recipes. This was the straw too many, and since his marriage Wilford had not been as angry as he was while listening to Juno, who reported Sybil’s verdict on his wife, “A domestic little body and very pretty.”
Wilford did not care to have his wife domestic; he did not marry her for that, and in a mood anything but favorable to the light, delicate dessert Katy had prepared with so much care, he went to his luxurious home, where Katy ran as usual to meet him, her face brimming with the surprise she had in store for him, and herself so much excited that she did not at first observe the cloud upon his brow, as he moodily answered her rapid questions. When the important moment arrived, and the dessert was brought on, he promptly declined it, even after her explanation that she made it herself, urging him to try it for the sake of pleasing her, if nothing more. But Wilford was not hungry then, and even had he been, he would have chosen anything before a pudding made from a recipe of Betsy Barlow, so the dessert was untasted even by Katy herself, who, knowing now that something had gone wrong, sat fighting back her tears until the servant left the room, when she timidly asked, “What is it, Wilford? What makes you seem so——” She would not saycross, and so substituted “queer,” while Wilford plunged at once into the matter by saying, “Juno tells me she called here this afternoon with Mrs. Grandon.”
“Yes, I forgot to mention it,” Katy answered, feeling puzzled to know why that should annoy her husband; but his next remarks disclosed the whole, and Katy’s tears flowed fast as Wilford asked what she supposed Mrs. Grandon thought, to see his wife looking as if fresh from the flour barrel, and to hear her talk about Aunt Betsy’s recipes and “our folks.” “That is a bad habit of yours, Katy,” he continued, “one of which I wish you to break yourself, if possible. I have never spoken to you directly on the subject before, but it annoys me exceedingly, inasmuch as it is an indication of low breeding.”
There was no answer from Katy, whose heart was toofull to speak, and so Wilford went on, “Our servants were selected by mother with a direct reference to your youth and inexperience, and it is not necessary for you to frequent the kitchen, or, indeed, to go there oftener than once a week. Let them come to you for orders, not you go to them. Neither need you speak quite so familiarly to them, treating them almost as if they were your equals. Try to remember your true position—that whatever you may have been you are now Mrs. Wilford Cameron, equal to any lady in New York.”
They were in the library now, and the soft May breeze came stealing through the open window, stirring the fleecy curtains and blowing across the tasteful bouquet which Katy had arranged; but Katy was too wretched to care for her surroundings. It was the first time Wilford had ever spoken to her in just this way, and his manner hurt her more than his words, making her feel as if she were an ignorant, ill-bred creature, whom he had raised to a position she did not know how to fill. It was cruel thus to repay her attempts to please, and so, perhaps, Wilford thought, as with folded arms he sat looking at her weeping so bitterly upon the sofa; but he was too indignant to make any concession then, and he suffered her to weep in silence until he remembered that his mother had requested him to bring her round that evening, as they were expecting a few of Juno’s friends, and among them Sybil Grandon. If Katy went he wished her to look her best, and he unbent so far as to try to check her tears. But Katy could not stop, and she wept so passionately that Wilford’s anger subsided, leaving only tenderness and pity for the wife he soothed and caressed, until the sobbing ceased, and Katy lay passively in his arms, her face so white, and the dark rings about her eyes showing so distinctly that Wilford did not press her when she declined his mother’s invitation. He could go, she said, urging so many reasons why he should that, for the first time since their marriage, he left her alone, and went where Sybil Grandon smiled her sunniest smile, and put forth her most persuasive powers to keep him at her side, expressing so much regret that he did not bring “his charming little wife, who completely won her heart, she was so child-like and simple-hearted, laughingso merrily when she discovered the flour on her hair, but not seeming to mind it in the least. Really, she did not see how it happened that he was fortunate enough to win such a domestic treasure. Where did he find her?”
If Sybil Grandon meant this to be complimentary, it was not received as such. Wilford, almost grating his teeth with vexation as he listened to it, and feeling doubly mortified with Katy, whom he found waiting for him, when at a late hour he left the society of Sybil Grandon and repaired to his home.
To Katy the time of his absence had seemed an age, for her thoughts had been busy with the past, gathering up every incident connected with her married life since she came to New York, and deducing from them the conclusion that “Wilford’s folks” were ashamed of her, and that Wilford himself might perhaps become so if he were not already. That would be worse than death itself, and the darkest hours she had ever known were those she spent alone that night, sobbing so violently as to bring on a racking headache, which showed itself upon her face and touched Wilford at once.
Sybil Grandon was forgotten in those moments of contrition, when he ministered so tenderly to his suffering wife, whom he felt that he had wronged. But he could not tell her so then. It was not natural for him to confess his errors. There had always been a struggle between his duty and his pride when he had done so, and now the latter conquered, especially as Katy, grown more calm, began to take the censure to herself, lamenting her short-comings, and promising to do better, even to the imitating of Sybil Grandon, if that would make him forget the past and love her as before.
Wilford could accord forgiveness far more graciously than he could ask it, and so peace was restored, and Katy’s face next day looked bright and happy when seen in her new carriage, which took her down Broadway to Stewart’s, where she encountered Sybil Grandon, and with her Juno Cameron.
From the latter Katy instinctively shrank, but she could not resist the former, who greeted her so familiarly that Katy readily forgave her the pain of which she had beenthe cause, and spoke of her to Wilford without a pang when he came home to dinner. Still she could not overcome her dread of meeting her, and she grew more and more averse to mingling in society, where she might do many things to mortify her husband or his family, and thus provoke a scene she hoped never again to pass through.
“Oh, if Helen were only here!” she thought, as she began to experience a sensation of loneliness she had never felt before.
But Helen was not there, nor coming there at present. One word from Wilford had settled that, convincing Katy that it was better to wait until the autumn, inasmuch as they were going so soon to Saratoga and Newport, places which Katy dreaded, after she knew that Mrs. Cameron and Juno were to be of the party, and probably Sybil Grandon. Katy did not dislike the latter, but she was never easy in her presence, while she could not deny to herself that since Sybil’s return Wilford had not been quite the same as before. In company he was more attentive than ever, but at home he was sometimes moody and silent, while Katy strove in vain to ascertain the cause.
They were not as happy in the new home as she had expected to be, but the fault did not lie with Katy. She performed her part and more, taking upon her young shoulders the whole of the burden which her husband should have helped her to bear. The easy, indolent life Wilford had led so long as a petted son of a partial mother unfitted him for care, and he was as much a boarder in his own home as he had even been in the hotels in Paris, thoughtlessly requiring of Katy more than he should have required, so that Bell was not far from right when in her journal she described her sister-in-law as “a little servant whose feet were never supposed to be tired, and whose wishes were never consulted.” It is true Bell had put it rather strongly, but the spirit of what she said was right, Wilford seldom considering Katy, or allowing her wishes to interfere with his own plans; while accustomed to every possible attention from his mother, he exacted the same from his wife, whose life was not one of unmixed happiness, notwithstanding that every letter home bore assurances to the contrary.