Hugh Worthington

“Mrs. Worthington, daughter, and, colored servant. Spring Bank, Ky.”

“Dr. John Richards and mother, New York City.”

“Irving Stanley, Esq., Baltimore.”

These were the last entries made by the clerk at Union Hall, which was so crowded, that for the new comers no rooms were found except the small, uncomfortable ones far up in the fourth story of the Ainsworth block, and thither, in not the most amiable mood, ’Lina followed her trunks, and was followed in turn by her mother and Lulu, the crowd whom they passed deciphering the name upon the trunks and whispering to each other, “From Spring Bank, Kentucky. Haughty looking girl, wasn’t she?”

From his little twelve by ten apartment, where the summer sun was pouring in a perfect blaze of heat, Dr. Richards saw them pass, and after wondering who they were, gave them no farther thought, but sat jamming his pen-knife into the old worm-eaten table, and thinking savage thoughts against that capricious lady, Fortune, who had compelled him to come to Saratoga, where rich wives were supposed to be had for the asking. Too late he had discovered the ruse imposed on him by Mr. Liston—had discovered that Alice was the heiress of more than $50,000, and following the discovery came the mortifying knowledge that not one dime of it would probably ever be used for defraying his personal expenses. Alice had learned how purely sordid and selfish was the man whom she had thought so misunderstood by the Snowdonites, and in Dr. Richard’s vest pocket there lay at this very moment a note, the meaning of which was that Alice Johnson declined the honor of becoming his wife. They would still be friends, she said; would meet as if nothing had occurred, but she could not be his wife. This it was which had brought him to Saratoga, indignant, mortified and desperate. There were other heiresses beside Alice Johnson—others less fastidious; and he could find them, too. Love was out of the question, as that had died with poor Lily, so that now he was ready for the first chance that offered, provided that chance possessed a certain style, and was tolerably good-looking. He did not see ’Lina at all, for she had passed the door before he looked up, so he only saw the mother, with Lulu trudging obediently behind, and hearing them enter the room, returned to his cogitations.

From his pleasanter, airier apartment, on the other side of the narrow hall, Irving Stanley looked through his golden glasses, pitying the poor ladies condemned to that slow roast, thinking how, if he knew them, he would surely offer to exchange, as it did not matter so much where a man was stowed away, he was so seldom in his room, while ladies must necessarily spend half their time there at least in dressing; and with a sigh for unfortunate ladies in general, the kind-hearted Irving Stanley closed his door and proceeded to make his own toilet for dinner, then only an hour in the future.

How hot, and dusty, and cross ’Lina was, and what a look of dismay she cast around the room, with its two bedsteads, its bureaus, its table, its washstand, and its dozen pegs for her two dozen dresses, to say nothing of her mother’s. She’d like to know if this was Saratoga, and these its accommodations. It was not fit to put the pigs in, and she wondered what the proprietor was thinking of when he sent her up there.

“I s’pects he didn’t know how you was an Airey,” Lulu said, demurely, her eyes brimming with mischief.

’Lina turned to box her ears, but the black face was so grave and solemn in its expression that she changed her mind, thinking she had been mistaken in Lulu’s ironical tone.

How tired and faint poor Mrs. Worthington was, and how she wished she had staid at home, like a sensible woman, instead of coming here to be made so uncomfortable in this hot room. But it could not now be helped, ’Lina said; they must do the best they could; and with a forlorn glance at the luxuriant patch of weeds, the most prominent view from the window, ’Lina opened one of her trunks, and spreading a part of the contents upon the bed, began to dress for dinner, changing her mind three times, driving her mother and Lulu nearly distracted, and finally deciding upon a rich green silk, which, with its crimson trimmings, was very becoming to her dark style, but excessively hot-looking on that sultry day. But ’Lina meant to make a good first impression. Everything depended upon that, and as the green was the heaviest, richest thing she had, so she would first appear in it. Besides that, the two young men who had looked at her from the door had not escaped her observation. She had seen them both, deciding that Dr. Richards was the most distingue of the two, though Irving Stanley was very elegant, very refined, and very intellectual looking in those glasses, which gave him so scholarly an appearance. ’Lina never dreamed that this was Irving Stanley, or she would have occupied far more time in brushing her hair and coiling among its braids the bandeau of pearls borrowed of Ellen Tiffton. As it was, the dinner bell had long since ceased ringing, and the tread of feet ceased in the halls below ere she descended to the deserted parlor, followed by her mother, nervous and frightened at the prospect of this, her first appearance at Saratoga.

“Pray, rouse yourself,” ’Lina whispered, as she saw how white she was, when she learned that their seats were at the extreme end of the dining room—that in order to reach it, nearly one thousand pair of eyes must be encountered, and one thousand glances braved. “Rouse yourself, do; and not let them guess you were never at a watering place before,” and ’Lina thoughtfully smoothed her mother’s cap by way of reassuring her.

But even ’Lina herself quailed when she reached the door and caught a glimpse of the busy life within, the terrible ordeal she must pass.

“Oh, for a pair of pantaloons to walk beside one, even if Hugh were in them,” she thought, as her own and her mother’s lonely condition rose before her.

But Hugh was watching a flat boat on the Mississippi that summer afternoon, and as there was no other person on whom she had a claim, she must meet her fate alone.

“Courage, mother,” she whispered again, and then advanced into the room, growing bolder at every step, for with one rapid glance she had swept the hall, and felt that amid that bevy of beauty and fashion there were few more showy than ’Lina Worthington in her rustling dress of green, with Ellen Tiffton’s bracelet on one arm and the one bought with Adah’s money on the other.

“Here, madam,” and their conductor pointed to chairs directly opposite Dr. Richards, watching them as they came up to the hall, and deciding that the young lady’s arms were most too white for her dark skin, and her cheeks a trifle too red.

“It’s put on skillfully, though,” he thought, while the showily dressed old lady beside him whispered,

“What elegant bracelets, and handsome point lace collar!” just as ’Lina haughtily ordered the servant to move her chair a little farther from the table.

Bowing deferentially, the polite attendant quickly drew back her chair, while she spread out her flowing skirts to an extent which threatened to envelop her mother, sinking meekly into her seat, confused and flurried. But alas for ’Lina. The servant did not calculate the distance aright, and the lady, who had meant to do the thing so gracefully, who had intended showing the people that she had been to Saratoga before, suddenly found herself, prostrate upon the floor, her chair some way behind her, and the plate, which, in her descent, she had grasped unconsciously, flying off diagonally past her mother’s head, and fortunately past the head of her mother’s left-hand neighbor.

Poor ’Lina! How she wished she might never get up again. How she hoped the floor beneath would open and swallow her up, and how she mentally anathematized the careless negro, choking with suppressed laughter behind her. As she struggled to arise she was vaguely conscious that a white hand was stretched out to help her, that the same hand smoothed her dress and held her chair safely. Too much chagrined to think who it was rendering her these little attentions, she took her seat, glancing up and down the table to witness the effect of her mishap.

There was a look of consternation on Dr. Richards face, but he was too well bred to laugh, or even to smile, though there was a visible desire to do so, an expression, which ’Lina construed into contempt for her awkwardness, and then he went on with his previous occupation, that of crumbling his bread and scanning the ladies near, while waiting for the next course. There was also a look of surprise in the face of the lady next to him, and then she too occupied herself with something else.

At first, ’Lina thought nothing could keep her tears back, they gathered so fast in her eyes, and her voice trembled so that she could not answer the servant’s question,

“Soup, madam, soup?”

But he of the white hand did it for her.

“Of course she’ll take soup,” then in an aside, he said to her gently, “Never mind, you are not the first lady who has been served in that way. It’s quite a common occurrence.” There was something reassuring in his voice, and turning toward him ’Lina caught the gleam of the golden glasses, and knew that her vis-à-vis up stairs was also her right-hand neighbor. How grateful she felt for his kind attentions, paid so delicately, and with an evident desire to shield her from remark, and how she wondered who he was, as he tried, by numberless unobtrusive acts, to quiet her.

Kind and gentle as a woman, Irving Stanley was sometimes laughed at by his own sex, as too gentle, too feminine in disposition; but those who knew him best loved him most, and loved him, too, just because he was not so stern, so harsh, so overbearing as men are wont to be. A woman was a sacred piece of mechanism to him—a something to be petted, humored and caressed, and still treated as an equal. The most considerate of sons, the most affectionate of brothers, he was idolized at home, while the society in which he mingled, knew no greater favorite, and ’Lina might well be thankful that her lot was cast so near him. He did not talk to her at the table further than a few commonplace remarks, but when after dinner was over, and his Havana smoked, he found her sitting with her mother out in the grove, apart from everybody, and knew that they were there alone, he went to them, and ere many minutes had elapsed discovered to his surprise that they were his so called cousins from Kentucky. Nothing could exceed ’Lina’s delight. He was there unfettered by mother or sister or sweetheart, and of course would attach himself exclusively to her. ’Lina was very happy, and more than once her loud laugh rang out so loud that Irving, with all his charity, had a faint suspicion that round his Kentucky cousin, there might linger a species of coarseness, not altogether agreeable to one of his refinement. Still he sat chatting with her until the knowing dowagers, who year after year watch such things at Saratoga, whispered behind their fans of a flirtation between the elegant Mr. Stanley and that haughty looking girl from Kentucky.

“I never saw him so familiar with a stranger upon so short an acquaintance,” said Mrs. Buford, whose three daughters would any one of them have exchanged their name for Stanley. “I wonder if he knew her before. Upon my word, that laugh of hers is rather coarse, let her be who she will.”

“Yes, but that silk never cost less than three dollars a yard at Stewart’s. See the lustre there is on it,” and old Mrs. Richards, who had brought herself into the field by way of assisting her son in his campaign, levelled her glass at ’Lina’s green silk, showing well in the bright sunlight “Here, John,” she called to her son, who was passing “can you tell me who that young lady is—the one who so very awkwardly sat down upon the floor at dinner?”

“I do not know, and I cannot say that I wish to,” was the nonchalant reply, as the doctor took the vacant chair his mother had so long been keeping for him. “I hardly fancy her style. She’s too brusque to suit me, though Irving Stanley seems to find her agreeable.”

“Is that Irving Stanley?” and Mrs. Richards levelled her glass again, for Irving Stanley was not unknown to her by reputation. “She must be somebody, John, or he would not notice her,” and she spoke in an aside, adding in a louder tone, “I wonder who she is. There’s their servant. I mean to question her,” and as Lulu came near, she said, “Girl, who do you belong to?”

“’Longs to them,” jerking her head toward ’Lina and Mrs. Worthington.

“Where do you live?” was the next query, and Lulu replied.

“Spring Bank, Kentucky. Missus live in big house, most as big as this.” Then anxious to have the ordeal passed, and fearful that she might not acquit herself satisfactorily to ’Lina, who, without seeming to notice her, had drawn near enough to hear, she added, “Miss ’Lina is an airey, a very large airey, and has a heap of—of——” Lulu hardly knew what, but finally in desperation added, “a heap of ars,” and then fled away ere another question could be asked her.

“What did she say she was?” Mrs. Richards asked, and the doctor replied,

“She said an airey. She meant an heiress.”

“Oh, yes, an heiress. I don’t doubt it, from her appearance, and Mr. Stanley’s attentions. Stylish looking isn’t she?”

“Rather, yes—magnificent eyes at all events,” and the doctor stroked his mustache thoughtfully, while his mother, turning to Mrs. Buford, began to compliment ’Lina’s form, and the fit of her dress.

Money, or the reputation of possessing money, is an all powerful charm, and in a few places does it show its power more plainly than at Saratoga, where it was soon known that the lady from Spring Bank was heiress to immense wealth in Kentucky, how immense nobody knew, and various were the estimates put upon it. Among Mrs. Buford’s clique it was twenty thousand; farther away and in another hall it was fifty, while Mrs. Richards, ere the supper hour arrived, had heard that it was at least a hundred thousand dollars. How or where she heard it she hardly knew, but she endorsed the statement as correct, and at the tea table that night was exceedingly gracious to ’Lina and her mother, offering to divide a little private dish which she had ordered for herself, and into which poor Mrs. Worthington inadvertently dipped, never dreaming that it was not common property.

“It was not of the slightest consequence, Mrs. Richards was delighted to share it with her,” and that was the way the conversation commenced.

’Lina knew now that the proud man whose lip had curled so scornfully at dinner, was Dr. Richards, and Dr. Richards knew that the girl who sat on the floor was ’Lina Worthington, from Spring Bank, where Alice Johnson was going.

“I did not gather from Mr. Liston that these Worthingtons were wealthy,” he said to himself, “but if the old codger would deceive me with regard to Miss Johnson, he would with regard to them,” and mentally resolving to make an impression before they could see and talk with Alice, the doctor was so polite that ’Lina scarcely knew whose attentions to prefer, his or Irving Stanley’s, who, rather glad of a co-worker, yielded the field without a struggle, and by the time tea was over the doctor’s star was in the ascendant.

How ’Lina wanted to stay in the crowded parlors, but her mother had so set her heart upon seeing Alice Johnson, that she was forced to humor her, and repaired to her room to make a still more elaborate toilet, as she wished to impress Miss Johnson with a sense of her importance.

A pale blue silk, with white roses in her hair, was finally decided upon, and when, just as the gas was lighted; she descended with her mother to the parlor, her opera cloak thrown gracefully around her uncovered shoulders, and Ellen Tiffton’s glass in her hand, she had the satisfaction of knowing that she created quite a sensation, and that others than Dr. Richards looked after her admiringly as she swept through the room, followed by her mother and Lulu, the latter of whom was answering no earthly purpose save to show that they had a servant.