CHAPTER I.
"When you have resolved to be great, abide by yourself, and do not weakly try to reconcile yourself with the world."--_Emerson._
There was a brilliant light in all the windows at Terrace Hill. Even theverandahs were gorgeous with the gayest Chinese lanterns, and every bushand tree in the lawn did duty as chandelier. Flowers, too, festoonedevery arch and embowered every corner, while rare vases fulfilled theiresteemed privilege of holding and showing fragrant blossoms.
Everybody declared the decorations superb, and agreed that no one butMrs. Hayden could display such exquisite taste and such perfect judgmentin selection and arrangement. Animated groups of gayly attired guestssauntered up and down the rose-bowered walks, or promenaded theverandahs, while sounds of music and merriment from the house proclaimedthe joy that reigned throughout.
"Oh, how beautifully Mrs. Hayden entertains!" remarked Kate Turner toher friend Grace Hall, as they stopped beside a marble fountain tosurvey the scene. "I wonder what place such a woman would take insociety without her wealth," she continued.
"Probably wouldn't have _any_ place, I am sorry to say, because thereare thousands of women just as capable and bright as Mrs. Hayden, yetbecause they have no social position, or rather no money to buythemselves one, they are unrecognized and alone," said Grace, with atinge of bitterness in her tone.
"I could never fancy Mrs. Hayden alone or unrecognized, although I onlyknow her as a society lady, and that mostly through Mrs. Nottingham."
"There is no telling what a person really is till they have gone througha trial of some kind, or had something disagreeable to bear. _Then_ oneof two things happens: you will see either a saint or a sinner, and I amnot sure which Mrs. Hayden would be. She hasn't yet seen a flame fromthe fire of adversity, I'm sure. See how wonderfully she is blessed withthis beautiful home, a good husband and three nice children."
"Oh! it must be lovely to have everything you want," sighed Kate, underher breath.
Poor Kate! She was alone in the world, making the best of life with hertalent for music and through a mutual friend had been introduced to Mrs.Hayden, who, after hearing her play, immediately engaged her for Mabel,and always invited her to the parties, more as a musical attraction,than out of any real regard, for Mrs. Hayden had an abundance of friendswithout troubling herself to cultivate in any warm fashion, thefriendship of a poor little music teacher, thought Kate, somewhatbitterly.
"But after all, Kate, life would need more than luxuries to make it _my_ideal of happiness. I should want every human being to be agreeablyemployed; every woman, no matter how much or how little she might have,should be occupied with something that she could put her heart into andspeak to the world through her work, whether it be painting pictures ordarning stockings."
"Now Gracious, you are riding your hobby and you ought to see you can'tride with all these fine people in your path. Come down at once or I'lldesert you! Let's go in and hear that waltz," and Kate laughingly pulledthe hobby-rider into the path that led to the conservatory where theycould listen to the music.
"What a beautiful home Mrs. Hayden has!" said Mrs. Ferris to herneighbor with the severe collar and plain hair, as they examined theexquisite frescoing on the parlor ceiling.
"Yes, but she ought to look into poor homes once in a while. She don'tuse her money in the right way. Just think of the good she might do forour church, if she would contribute to the charity fund, or take somepoor families to look after."
The fat neck folded itself over the severe collar and the face settledinto rigid lines of judgment. Mrs. Dyke was a practical woman and talkedin a practical way. Being a wonderful church worker she naturallyconsidered it everybody's duty to give when they did not work for thecause of religion. She belonged to the First Methodist Church on HighSt., and talked about "our church" as though there were no other.
Mrs. Ferris was at a loss. She had said something that had not broughtforth a pleasant result. She merely wished to be sociable, and what moreconvenient topic than these beautiful surroundings? She was a meeklittle woman, who always wanted to say something agreeable or soothing,and she felt quite frightened at the mistake she had made. She wishedsomebody would come to the rescue, but there was no immediate prospect,and she scarcely knew how to proceed again, but ventured to ask if therewere many poor people who needed attention now.
"Yes, indeed there are no less than fifteen families in the missionquarter nearest Mrs. Hayden who would consider it a privilege to pick upthe crumbs from her table, and I am afraid she'll have to give anaccount _some_ time when the reckoning day comes, for those who have not'given cups of cold water, or visited the sick languishing in prison.'"
The air almost trembled with a suggestion of something. Little Mrs.Ferris looked longingly towards the door and just then spied her husbandwho was seeking her. After she was gone, Mrs. Dyke looked grimly about,and not finding any one to listen, she relapsed into a meditativesilence. People always wondered what made Mrs. Dyke so popular that shereceived an invitation to every aristocratic party, but it was accordingto the old adage, "Where there is a will there is a way."
This was a _gala_ night for Hampton. Such large social parties werealways an event, and no one refused an invitation to Mrs. Hayden's, forit always meant beautiful rooms, carpets, pictures and _bric-a-brac_,superb refreshments, and a splendid time generally. Mrs. Hayden was afavorite with the world because she fed the world with sugar plums, andafter smacking its lips it was always ready for more. And she usuallyhad one to drop in. To-night it was a remarkably sweet one. This was ageneral affair, and every big body and big body's cousins and friendswere there. To be sure they discussed their hostess as freely as thoughthey were not big bodies, but with rare exceptions the discussion wascomplimentary in the extreme. Mrs. Hayden, what she said, what she did,what she wore, what she served as refreshments the last time, what werethe probabilities next, her children, her husband, what they all did andsaid and how they acted, etc., were always interesting themes.Sometimes, to be sure, there were adverse remarks like Mrs. Dyke's, butfew made them.
Yes, Mrs. Hayden was decidedly popular, and although no one was everheard to tell of any particularly grand or noble deed she had done, shewas supposed to be doing good all the time. There were those who, inearlier years, would have pointed her out as an enthusiasticphilanthropist, eagerly helping whatever project needed her most, butgradually she had dropped it all, no one knew why, and now her principalwork was to shine in society, at least this was the general verdict ofthe adverse few who judged from the superficial standpoint of the world.Of her inner life they knew nothing as the world knows nothing of anyone's inner life. There may be depths or shallows in any character neverdreamed of by the most intimate friend, much less by the babbling world.
Mrs. Hayden moved about among her guests with a stately grace. She hadalways a pleasant faculty of adjusting the broken links of conversation,supplying a _repartee_ or asking a question, introducing strangegentlemen and reviving timid _debutantes_ with a pretty compliment or agracious smile.
"My dear, I wish you would play something," she whispered to Miss Turneras she passed her, "I think the group in the drawing room need a littlechange;" and no wonder, for there was Mrs. Dyke in a hot dispute with aUnitarian over Robert Elsmere, while her pastor sat near, occasionallyadding something to Mrs. Dyke's emphatic remarks.
"It's a most blasphemous piece of presumption to present such a pictureas that of the church. As if it were in its last stages of decay,indeed! It was well such a weak-minded idiot as Robert Elsmere died atthe beginning of his career. I could never forgive the author if shehadn't killed him," she was saying in an angry voice.
"We can take it simply as a symbol of the decay of his religion, andthat is comforting," added the minister, complacently.
"I am not at all in sympathy with the holy Catherine, with her prejudiceand bigotry. If it wasn't such a true picture of the many Catherines wefind in real life, I should be quite disgusted, but I do lov
e to seereal people in novels, then I know so much better how to deal withthem," said a pretty young lady who aspired to be called intellectualbecause she liked to study character.
"Indeed, Catherine had a deep religious nature, which might be worthy ofemulation in many respects, and she is certainly a high ideal of wifelylove," Mrs. Hayden interposed at this critical juncture.
"Well, I didn't read the book for Catherine, but for the sake of knowingRobert and what he did to make such a stir in the world. I'm opposed tonovels, as a rule, and read as little of one as I can," said Mrs. Dyke,smoothing her lap and looking at the minister. Mrs. Hayden motioned toKate to play, and presently the rooms were filled with harmony.
Kate Turner was a natural musician, and to-night she fairly excelledherself. The little passage at arms just recorded had inspired her withemotions that could only be expressed in music, and she played some timeto the continued delight of her listeners. She finished at last with asong that stirred every heart, and even Mrs. Dyke was visibly softened."Verily 'music hath charms to soothe a savage breast,'" murmured theintellectual young lady, who was sorry that discussion of Robert Elsmerehad been interrupted. She rather enjoyed Mrs. Dyke, for she was animmensely interesting "character."
This reception, like all others, came to an end at last. Everybodyexpressed themselves as highly delighted with their entertainment, andone by one reluctantly took their departure; the gay lanterns on thelawn and among the shrubbery went out, the lights inside the splendidmansion were finally extinguished, and only the quiet starlightillumined Terrace Hill.
Mrs. Hayden, from her high bay window, looked out over the sleepingcity, then at the North Star that beamed so brightly above her--thatunerring beacon-light that guides so many lost mariners into port. Somedeep thought must have moved her, some hidden impulse stirred her mind.She sighed. There was no visible reason for it. Then she turned and wentdown the stairs to the nursery. Her two babies were sleeping sweetly.Mabel was asleep in her room, and all was quiet. The hush seemedoppressive after so much gay confusion. Now she was in another element.Now she was the mother, then she was a fashionable woman. She hastenedback to her room, once more gazed without and then thoughtfullyretired.