Elinor Wyllys, vol 1 | Page 9

Patsey Hubbard,
smiling good-naturedly. "It is only a conditional consent, Charles, you
must remember." Then turning to Mr. Wyllys, she added--"All our
friends seem to agree with you, sir, and Miss Wyllys: my uncles think
Charles ought to show what he has done to some experienced painters,
and have their opinions. We feel very anxious on the subject."
"Remember to persevere, young man, if you once begin," said Mr.
Wyllys.
"No danger but I shall, sir," said the boy rather proudly.
"I fear, Charles, that half the fault of your obstinacy is thrown upon my
shoulders," said Elinor. "Those Lives of the Painters were an
unfortunate present; they seem quite to have turned your head; I am
afraid Miss Patsey will not soon forgive me."
{"Lives of the Painters" = probably Giorgio Vasari (Italian writer,
1511-1574), "Lives of the Most Excellent Architects, Painters and
Sculptors" (1550, rev. 1568), a famous and often reprinted series of
biographies of Italian artists, also frequently cited as "Lives of the
Artists."}
"I can't thank you enough for them, Miss Elinor--you don't know what
pleasure I have had with them."
CHAPTER II.
"We'll measure them a measure, and begone."
{William Shakespeare, "Romeo and Juliet", I.iv.10}
The arrival of guests again called the ladies away; they were followed
by others, until the drawing-room was half-filled with the young people

of the neighbourhood, and their parents. Mrs. Stanley was soon talking
with Patsey Hubbard, whom she liked particularly. The tall and thin
Mrs. Bernard, and her friend, the short and fat Mrs. Van Horne, were
regretting with Mrs. George Wyllys, that she should think the air of
Longbridge did not agree with her children; and lamenting that she
should not remain at Wyllys-Roof until November, according to her
first intention. Charlie was deep in a volume of fine engravings. Young
Taylor was standing; in a corner, looking handsome, but awkward, and
out of place. Mr. Taylor, the father, was aiming at making himself
'affable' to everybody he knew; he liked to be called the 'affable' Mr.
Taylor. The last of the party to arrive, were Mr. and Mrs. Clapp; a
couple, who were by no means equally liked by their hosts. The
husband was a Longbridge lawyer, whose views and manners were not
much admired at Wyllys-Roof; and he would probably never have
found his way there, had he not married one of their old friends and
favourites, Kate Hubbard, a younger sister of Miss Patsey's--one who
from childhood had always been welcome among them. William
Cassius Clapp had curly hair, bright black eyes, and pink cheeks--and,
consequently, was generally thought an Adonis: his wife was a
diminutive little creature, quite pretty, and very amiable; a sort of
mixture of Miss Patsey and Charlie, without the more striking qualities
of either. Some of her friends had thought her thrown away upon Clapp;
but she seemed perfectly satisfied after five years' experience, and
evidently believed her husband superior in every way to the common
run of men. Holding it to be gross injustice towards the individuals
whom we bring before the reader, to excite a prejudice against them in
the very first chapter, we shall leave all the party to speak and act for
themselves; merely endeavouring to fill the part of a 'faithful
chronicler,' ourselves.
Mr. Taylor had been looking, with a mixed expression of surprise and
curiosity, at the person he had heard addressed as Miss Patsey Hubbard,
when the lady remarked his manner, and, smiling quietly, she bowed to
him. The bow was returned; and Mr. Taylor crossed the room, to renew
an acquaintance with the woman, who, three-and-twenty years before,
had refused to become his wife. Mr. Pompey Taylor had, however,
risen too much in the world, since then--according to his own

estimation, at least--he had become too rich and too prosperous, not to
look back with great equanimity, on what he now considered as a very
trifling occurrence. While he was addressing Miss Patsey in his most
polished manner, just marked with an extra-touch of 'affability,' for her
especial benefit, he could not but wonder that her countenance should
still wear the same placid, contented air as of old; it seemed, indeed, as
if this expression had only been confirmed by time and trials. He began
to think the accounts he had occasionally heard, of his old flame, must
have been incorrect; it was scarcely possible she should look so calm,
and even cheerful, if her father, the Presbyterian minister, had actually
left her not only penniless, but burdened with the support of a
bed-ridden step-mother, and a house full of younger brothers and sisters.
We leave him to satisfy his curiosity as well as he could.
When was there ever an evening too warm for young people to dance!
Elinor's friends had not been