Chapter XXI: In the City

In a proud city and rich—
A city fair and old,
Filled with the world’s most costly things,
Of precious stones and gold;
Of silks, fine wool, and spiceries,
And all that’s bought and sold.—MARY HOWITT.

On her arrival at Richmond, Mrs. Clifton engaged for herself and Catherine two rooms—a chamber with two beds, and a neat adjoining parlor—in a quiet, retired boardinghouse.

Miss Clifton was the guest of Mrs. Cabell, in the most fashionable quarter of the city. Captain Clifton had not yet arrived, but was daily expected. Richmond was in the commencement of the fashionable season, and was already quite full of gay company. Every evening witnessed some one or two grand balls, or great private parties. The theatres and the concert rooms were in full operation. But no faint echo of all these various forms of revelry came to the sequestered neighborhood that Mrs. Clifton had chosen for her retreat. No news of the fashionable world reached her, except constant bulletins of Mrs. Georgia Clifton’s progress through society. She was one of those city celebrities whose sayings and doings are the exciting topic of all classes. Where she went, and what she wore, and when she rode out. Whom she cut directly, whom she smiled upon, whom she slighted, and whom she received, were the most interesting subjects of discussion. The Belle of the Rappahannock, the Dark Ladye, the Gipsy Beauty, were some of the many names she had won. All these matters were freely and lightly commented upon in Mrs. Clifton’s presence, by gentlemen boarders, who knew nothing whatever of that lady’s connexion with the reigning toast of Richmond. Mrs. Clifton rested two days before calling upon Mrs. Cabell and her family. Miss Clifton expressed almost as much surprise as pleasure at the sight of her aunt, but forbore to question her motive in coming so suddenly to the city. Perhaps Carolyn had heard a rumor of Major Clifton’s preferment and expected arrival, and for that reason was silent. Mrs. Clifton never named the subject during her informal call. At taking leave she left her address, and informed her niece that Kate Kavanagh was in town with her. Carolyn expressed much pleasure at hearing this, and promised to call very soon. The very next day Mrs. Cabell came in her carriage, and invited and urged Mrs. Clifton and her protégé to return with her, and make her house their home during their sojourn in Richmond. After some hesitation and reflection, Mrs. Clifton accepted the invitation, and promised to go over the next day. The next morning, therefore, Mrs. Cabell sent her carriage to convey Mrs. Clifton and Catherine. They were received by Mrs. Cabell with great politeness and _empressement_, and conducted by that lady herself into two large and luxuriously furnished chambers, connected with each other, where they found a neat, pretty mulatto girl, ready to wait upon them—for Mrs. Cabell, with all her hard worldliness, was truly kind and hospitable.

The evening of the succeeding day was the appointed time for the Governor’s first reception. Mrs. Cabell and her family were going, of course. And Mrs. Clifton resolved to go—not for her own sake, but for that of Catherine, whom she had determined should see all that was to be seen during her stay in the metropolis. A somewhat haughty surprise elevated the handsome black eyebrows of Mrs. Cabell, when she found that Mrs. Clifton intended to take her _demoiselle du compagnie_, but she was far too well bred to express it in any other manner. And as for Mrs. Clifton, she always did whatever she thought proper to do, in the coolest, calmest, most matter-of-course manner, without the slightest regard to other people’s weaknesses and follies. You know, besides, that she was a thorough republican. And Mrs. Cabell remembered that the public reception at the gubernatorial mansion was a sort of _omnium gatherum_, where all who behaved themselves might come—from the oldest Major-General of the army to the shoemaker who made his boots. And again, no one in Richmond knew who the girl really was. All these things had Mrs. Cabell to recall to mind before she could reconcile herself to the idea of Kate’s being of the party.

When the night and the hour arrived, several gentlemen, beaux of the Misses Cabell, came to escort the ladies. Major Cabell attended his cousin Carolyn and one of his sisters. Judge Cabell took charge of his wife and eldest daughter. Mrs. Clifton had hoped that her son would have reached the city in time to have escorted herself and Catherine. When they were all assembled in the parlor, Major Cabell brought a gentleman up to Mrs. Clifton, whom he presented as Colonel Conyers, of the army, leaving to Mrs. Clifton the responsibility of presenting the aristocrat to the plebeian Kate. Mrs. Clifton did it at once, in the most natural way in the world. And the gallant Colonel, after a few compliments, hoped to have the honor of waiting upon Mrs. Clifton and her “lovely charge” to the Mansion-House. Mrs. Clifton gratefully accepted his services—and soon after, they entered the carriage, and were driven off. This party reached their destination a full half hour before Mrs. Cabell and family, and other ultra fashionables, who fancied that it was vulgar to go early, and imagined that their _ton_ depended upon late hours and other observances. Mrs. Clifton was very plainly dressed, in a black satin with a lace scarf—Catherine very simply, in a white crape, with a scarlet geranium twined in her black hair. A moment in the cloak-room sufficed to re-arrange their simple toilet. They were then conducted into the saloon. This apartment was fitted up in a somewhat different style to those of the present day. It was illuminated by three large hanging chandeliers, holding innumerable wax candles; and warmed by two enormous coal fires, one at each extremity. It was already well filled with a miscellaneous company. After their presentation to the Governor, Colonel Conyers inquired whether they chose to join the promenade or to take seats. Mrs. Clifton preferred the latter, and their polite escort conducted them to a side sofa, from which they could note the entrance of fresh guests, and watch the great circle of promenaders going round and round in one long elliptic, three or four persons deep, in the most stupid, treadmill monotony conceivable. Very much interested and amused was our simple country girl, in taking observations of the various characters passing in review before them. Here would be a dowager of sixty, in rouge, ringlets, bare arms and a gossamer dress; here a girl of seventeen, in a black, stiff brocade and heavy head-dress. Here comes a stately, broad-chested, senatorial-looking man—he _looks_ the incumbent of some high, official place—he _is_ the master tailor, of —— street. Here comes a red-headed, red-faced, sharp-featured little man, very quick and impatient in his motions, and very high in his voice—he looks like an auctioneer or a constable—he is the great General ——, of the United States Army. Here is a small, dowdy woman, all fuss and flowers, like a barn-house actress—she is the wife of the late Governor ——. This is a queenly woman! tall, stately, dignified, with a fine, royal countenance. Pooh! Don’t ask who she is—she is the “leading lady” at the city theatre—plays in all the heavy tragedies, but is not even a star. There, apart, watching and reflecting upon the scene, stands a grave-looking individual, in a closely-fitting black suit, and closely-cropped black hair, and set, sallow, saturnine face, looking like an undertaker at a funeral—doubtless some famous preacher—though so miserable a messenger of the glad tidings cannot be imagined. Preacher, indeed! Why, he is H——, the low comedian, and he wears his hair cropped that way by reason of the many different sorts of wigs he has to wear in his different impersonations. To-night, he happens to be off the boards, and enjoys the recreation of sadness and gravity. Ah! here is a debonnair gentleman! all life! a laugh and jest, or a smile and a bow for every one. Is he a French dancing-master? No—he is the Rev. Mr. ——, the most popular preacher of the day. Yet these were not all. There _was_ a small proportion of really well-dressed and dignified women and stately, honorable men.

“How do you like the scene, Catherine?” asked Mrs. Clifton.

Kate laughed—then replied—

“I am somewhat disappointed, but very much more diverted! It seems to me so strange that people should look, dress and behave so very inappropriately! and that they could possibly be so very ill-dressed and dowdy at such a great expense. I expected something very recherché and elegant in the saloon of the Governor’s mansion. But ‘motley is the only wear!’”

The officer laughed, gayly, and then observed—

“Why? Why did you look for something, or rather, for everything recherché and elegant in this crowd? Because you see in the newspaper reports of such gatherings, such phrases as ‘the beautiful Miss A——?’—by the way, there she is—the young lady with the red hair, milk-white complexion and little eyes; or ‘the elegant Mrs. B——?’ ‘the graceful Mrs. C——?’ etc., etc., etc., with revised and improved accounts of their costume, appearance, manners, etc.? Miss Kavanagh, when you have stayed in the city longer, you will know that when a newspaper reporter and letter writer speaks of that dowdy, but wealthy little woman, in the flimsy, scarlet dress, as ‘the beautiful, elegant, and accomplished Mrs. G——,’ and tells of ‘the immense (imaginary) sensation’ she made—_he_, the reporter, is morally certain of an invitation to her private parties.”

Kate did not like his sarcastic tone, but before she could make any sort of reply, her attention was called to a rising excitement in the room. Every gentleman, from the fidgety little Major General, down to the grave and dignified low comedian; and every lady, from the ex-Governor’s fussy widow, to the stately and self-possessed stock actress, were on the _qui vive_. Kate, while listening and watching for the cause of the excitement, caught a few phrases that helped to enlighten her—they were of this sort:—“A wonder! a perfect wonder! A miracle of dark beauty.” “The wealthiest woman in the state, but that is nothing to her marvelous beauty.” “Did you see her as ‘_Egypt_,’ at the fancy ball?” “Her portrait, in oil, by ——, stands in Stationers’ Hall. It has attracted crowds.” “No—I have seen the engraving from it in ‘Beauty’s Annual’ for this year. But I have also seen it on the tops of cigar boxes—too bad!” “Hush! here she comes!”

Catherine turned her eyes in the direction towards which all others were gazing. It was Georgia—dark, bright, and more beautiful and bewitching than ever. Her dress was of lustrous black _crape-de-lise_, sprinkled over with gold spangles, that gleamed in and out through the dark, transparent drapery, suggesting clear, starlight night. A crowd entered with the star-bright Circe—a crowd attended her during all her progress through the room.

We must leave Georgia to her alluring wiles, and Catherine to her observations, and seek Mrs. Cabell and her party. They are in the dressing-room, and about to leave it. Only Mrs. Cabell turns again and again to survey her form in the mirror, and re-adjust the flow of her purple satin dress, or the wave of her white ostrich plumes. When all is done, she turns for the last time to Carolyn, to rebuke her for not adding a single ornament to her mourning dress of black velvet, which is relieved only by the falls of fine Brussels lace on the neck and arms, and the sunny ringlets falling all around her head as low as the throat. Carolyn looks very fragile, but interesting and lovely, though she does not know it. Major Cabell gave his right arm to his mother, and his left to his cousin, and so, as it was now the acme of the fashionable hour, they entered the saloon, and made their slow progress up to the upper end, where the Governor and staff stood, to receive all comers—Mrs. Cabell bowing and smiling to such acquaintances as she chose to recognize in passing, until at length they stopped. A feeling of false shame, a morbid notion that all eyes were upon her, and scrutinized the few pits hidden under the golden curls on her temples, had caused Carolyn to cast her eyes down, and keep them down, during the whole progress through the room—and though her acute ears heard such murmurs as these—“How fair she is,” “But how fragile, as if a zephyr would blow her away”—she never fancied they were breathed of her, and never surmised the admiration she elicited. “Governor T——, Miss Clifton, of Clifton,” were the words that admonished Carolyn she was standing before the great man, and must look up and curtsy. She curtsied before she looked up, and when she raised her eyes, she saw only Archer Clifton before her, who bowed when he met her glance! The Governor and many others were there, but how could she see any one but Archer Clifton! But, oh! the perversity of human nature! As soon as she met his eyes, all the pride and scorn of her proudest, most scornful days, returned upon her with a vengeance—all the more fiercely, ferociously, that she believed herself a fright, and found Archer Clifton handsomer, more dignified, higher in favor with God and man than ever! Major Cabell was about to pass on instantly with his ladies, to give place to the next arrivals. Returning Archer Clifton’s bow with a haughty bend, she threw up her head and swept on with the most superb air of arrogance imaginable. They joined the promenaders—Carolyn all the more unhappy for her show of hauteur—the heart beneath that erected head and expanded chest almost breaking with chagrin. Captain, now Major Clifton, stood at the right hand of the Governor, with his eyes roving calmly over the miscellaneous assembly, until they chanced to rest upon the stately form of his mother when they lighted up with surprise and pleasure, and excusing himself from his official attendance, he bowed and withdrew, to hasten to the distant sofa, where she sat alone. Catherine, on the arm of Colonel Conyers, was lost in the slowly revolving crowd of promenaders. He reached Mrs. Clifton’s side, and—

“My dearest mother!”

“My dear Archer!” were the greetings exchanged between them with the clasped hands.

“How delighted I am to see you, yet how tantalizing to meet you in this public assembly, after so long an absence!”

“When did you reach the city, Archer?”

“Within the last half hour! Having important dispatches for the Governor, I came at once hither.”

“I did not see you enter.”

“I came in by the private entrance, and joined his excellency’s circle directly. But, my dearest mother! I scarcely hoped you would be in town—how long have you been here?”

“About four days, Archer.”

Suddenly both became grave and thoughtful—they were occupied with the same thoughts—of the calamities that had befallen mutual friends since their last parting. They were silent—they did not like to sadden this first meeting by referring to the mournful subject. And before either knew of her approach, Mrs. Georgia had glided swiftly and silently up to them. Now, Mrs. Georgia had passed and repassed Mrs. Clifton a score of times that evening, without once noticing her. But now that Archer Clifton sat by his mother’s side, the Circe appeared before them, dark, resplendent, alluring as ever. She was leaning upon the arm of the Lieutenant-Governor. Archer Clifton sprang up immediately, and greeted her with surprise and pleasure. Dismissing her escort with a charming smile and wave of the hand she sank gracefully, languishingly into the seat by the side of Mrs. Clifton, and glided into her own fascinating style of conversation. After a few minutes, Archer Clifton seemed quite lost to everything else, in the charm of the syren’s society, until a certain, sweet, enticing restlessness on the part of the beauty, suggested to him the propriety of inviting her to promenade. She arose with a bewildering smile, that quite drove his mother out of his head, and slipped her arm through his. They joined the promenaders. In the meantime, Kate Kavanagh, on the arm of Colonel Conyers, was moving around in the same circle, highly amused in making observations, and scarcely appreciating the sincere admiration of her escort, that was apparent to every one else, especially to the correspondent of the Fiddle-de-dee, who, in his next letter, in giving an account of the reception, made an item of the manifest admiration of the gallant and distinguished Colonel C——, for the beautiful and accomplished Miss K——. Catherine at length thought that her kind patroness might be lonely, and expressed a wish to rejoin her. In turning to retrace their steps, they met face to face with Archer Clifton and his companion. Major Clifton recognized the poor mountain-girl in that saloon, with a look of supercilious surprise, and Mrs. Georgia looked calmly through her body without seeing her at all. With a slight bow, Major Clifton passed on with his companion. And as for Kate, her heart had a habit of standing perfectly still in an emergency, and now it had stopped so suddenly, and stood still so long, that she was on the verge of fainting.

“You are not well. You are wearied. You have remained on your feet too long. Let me take you to a seat, Miss Kavanagh,” said the Colonel. With a gasp and a shiver, Kate recovered and rejoined Mrs. Clifton. And she permitted herself to fall into no more weakness that night. But Kate had unconsciously betrayed her secret to the officer. And by the interference of her good angel, this knowledge thus obtained, enabled Colonel Conyers to do Kate a service of vital importance in after years.

“Archer is come,” said Mrs. Clifton, as Catherine took her seat.

“I know it. I met him,” replied Catherine, and both fell into silence, for at that instant Major Clifton and the beautiful Georgia passed them. And from that time, and so long as they sat there, again and again in the slow revolving of the great circle of promenaders, the pair passed and repassed them—Georgia smiling, cooing, murmuring, in her low, alluring music—and Archer Clifton, bending over her with his brilliant gray eyes, feeding on her lovely face, seeming to sink deeper and deeper into the bathos of her charms, while Carolyn turned sick with jealousy, and Catherine faint with dread, and the correspondent of the Fiddle-de-dee made a note of the distinguished favor with which the most beautiful Mrs. C——, the reigning belle of Richmond, received the devoirs of her distant relative, the celebrated Major C——. Fear nothing, Carolyn, or Catherine, Archer Clifton is not in love with his uncle’s widow—that very relationship would repel the idea, if nothing else. But he is not indifferent to the honor of monopolizing the reigning queen of the ton.

“Aunt Cabell,” said Carolyn, “I cannot sit up longer. I _must_ go home.”

And Mrs. Cabell consented to gratify her wish. In fact it was growing late, and the ultra fashionables, the last to come, and the first to leave, were beginning to disappear. Mrs. Georgia unwillingly discovered this fact, but she thought that at least she could adroitly secure the services of her companion as an escort home, and detain him to any hour in the little paradise of her own boudoir. She therefore expressed herself ennuied, and entreated Major Clifton to conduct her to the cloak-room. He attended her thither. And there he met again his Cousin Carolyn. She looked so fair, so wan, so fragile, that he could not for a moment take his eyes from her. He hastily adjusted the mantle over the shoulders of Georgia, handed her her muff and hood, and excusing himself for a moment, hurried back to his mother’s side.

“You have company home, madam, have you not?”

“Certainly, Archer. I should not be here without such a provision—here comes Colonel Conyers now to attend us.”

“Good-night, then! I will see you early to-morrow! Good-night, Kate!” He was off.

Mrs. Cabell and Carolyn, leaning on Major Cabell’s arms, reached their carriage door. The Major dropped his cousin’s arm a moment to assist his mother in, and to settle her in her seat. And during that moment Carolyn felt an arm passed around her waist, and a voice whisper—

“Carolyn—my beloved cousin! my bride! am I forgiven?”

She burst into tears and dropped her proud head on his bosom, exclaiming—

“Oh, Archer! am _I_ forgiven?”

He placed her in the carriage, and springing in past Major Cabell, took the seat by her side, leaving the Major to follow as he could, and forgetting the very existence of Mrs. Georgia.

Kate was close to them—she saw and heard it all. Nodding her head slowly several times, she murmured—

“Thank God. Thank God! Oh, Merciful Father, help me to say that sincerely. Thank God!”

Three weeks after this they were married. The ceremony was performed in the ancient church of St. John’s on Richmond Hill—one of the oldest places of worship on the whole continent. Mrs. Cabell would willingly have made this event the occasion of a great deal of ostentatious display; but the recent afflictions in the family, and the fragility of the bride, rendered other arrangements necessary. Therefore, immediately after the ceremony, which came off at an early hour of the morning, the newly-married couple, taking advantage of the very fine weather, departed for Norfolk, with the intention of sailing thence to Havana, where, by the advice of an eminent physician, for the re-establishment of the bride’s health, they purposed to spend the winter.

Mrs. Georgia Clifton, with all the other members of the family connection, had, of course, been present at the marriage. And no one was so lavish of smiles, tears, caresses, and congratulations, as the dark-eyed syren. But when all was over, and the bridal pair had departed, refusing the invitation of Mrs. Cabell to go home and dine with a party of friends, she hurried to her lodgings, pushed open the door of her luxurious boudoir, fastened it on the inside, and threw herself down, rolling over, tearing at the carpet, and gnashing her teeth in an agony of disappointment, jealousy and impotent rage.

But not long did the Circe of Richmond yield herself up to anguish and despair. Christmas was approaching, when she was expected to entertain a select number of her worshipers at White Cliffs. It was expedient that she should go down a few days in advance of the party, to make ready for their reception. Therefore, about five days after the marriage, she left the city.

Mrs. Clifton remained a week longer in town, to give Catherine an opportunity of attending a course of lectures on Moral Philosophy. And their escort every evening was Colonel Conyers.