Books: A Modern Cinderella
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Louisa May Alcott >> A Modern Cinderella
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"That Mr. Evan does not seem very anxious
to claim our acquaintance, after all, and I think
better of him on that account. Has he spoken to
you to-night, Dora?" asked Mrs. Carroll, as
Debby dropped down beside her after a "splendid
polka."
"No, ma'am, he only bowed. You see some
people are not so presuming as other people
thought they were; for we are not the most
attractive beings on the planet; therefore a gentleman
can be polite and then forget us without breaking
any of the Ten Commandments. Don't be offended
with him yet, for he may prove to be some
great creature with a finer pedigree than any of
your first families.' Mr. Leavenworth, as you
know everybody, perhaps you can relieve Aunt
Pen's mind, by telling her something about the
tall, brown man standing behind the lady with
salmon-colored hair."
Mr. Joe, who was fanning the top of Debby's
head with the best intentions in life, took a survey,
and answered readily,--
"Why, that's Frank Evan. I know him, and
a deused good fellow he is,--though he don't
belong to our set, you know."
"Indeed! pray, tell us something about him,
Mr. Leavenworth. We met in the cars, and he
did us a favor or two. Who and what is the
man?" asked Mrs. Carroll, relenting at once
toward a person who was favorably spoken of by
one who did belong to her "set."
"Well, let me see," began Mr. Joe, whose
narrative powers were not great." He is a
bookkeeper in my Uncle Josh Loring's importing
concern, and a powerful smart man, they say. There's
some kind of clever story about his father's leaving
a load of debts, and Frank's working a deused
number of years till they were paid. Good of him,
wasn't it? Then, just as he was going to take
things easier and enjoy life a bit, his mother died,
and that rather knocked him up, you see. He fell
sick, and came to grief generally, Uncle Josh said;
so he was ordered off to get righted, and here he
is, looking like a tombstone. I've a regard for
Frank, for he took care of me through the smallpox
a year ago, and I don't forget things of that
sort; so, if you wish to be introduced, Mrs. Carroll,
I'll trot him out with pleasure, and make a proud
man of him."
Mrs. Carroll glanced at Debby, and as that
young lady was regarding Mr. Joe with a friendly
aspect, owing to the warmth of his words, she
graciously assented, and the youth departed on his
errand. Mr. Evan went through the ceremony
with a calmness wonderful to behold, considering
the position of one lady and the charms of the
other, and soon glided into the conversation with
the ease of a most accomplished courtier.
"Now I must tear myself away, for I'm engaged
to that stout Miss Bandoline for this dance.
She's a friend of my sisLer's, and I must do the
civil, you know; powerful slow work it is, too, but
I pity the poor soul,--upon my life, I do;" and
Mr. Joe assumed the air of a martyr.
Debby looked up with a wicked smile in her
eyes, as she said,--
"Ah, that sounds very amiable here; but in five
minutes you'll be murmuring in Miss Bandoline's
earm--'I've been pining to come to you this half
hour, but I was obliged to take out that Miss
Wilder, you see--countrified little thing enough,
but not bad-looking, and has a rich aunt; so I've
done my duty to her, but deuse take me if I can
stand it any longer."
Mr. Evan joined in Debby's merriment; but
Mr. Joe was so appalled at the sudden attack that
he could only stammer a remonstrance and beat a
hasty retreat, wondering how on earth she came
to know that his favorite style of making himself
agreeable to one young lady was by decrying
another.
"Dora, my love, that is very rude, and 'Deuse'
is not a proper expression for a woman's lips.
Pray, restrain your lively tongue, for strangers may
not understand that it is nothing but the sprightliness
of your disposition which sometimes runs away with you."
"It was only a quotation, and I thought you
would admire anything Mr. Leavenworth said,
Aunt Pen," replied Debby, demurely.
Mrs. Carroll trod on her foot, and abruptly
changed the conversation, by saying, with an
appearance of deep interest,--
"Mr. Evan, you are doubtless connected with
the Malcoms of Georgia; for they, I believe, are
descended from the ancient Evans of Scotland.
They are a very wealthy and aristocratic family,
and I remember seeing their coat-of-arms once:
three bannocks and a thistle."
Mr. Evan had been standing before them with
a composure which impressed Mrs. Carroll with a
belief in his gentle blood, for she remembered her
own fussy, plebeian husband, whose fortune had
never been able to purchase him the manners of a
gentleman. Mr. Evan only grew a little more
erect, as he replied, with an untroubled mien,--
"I cannot claim relationship with the Malcoms
of Georgia or the Evans of Scotland, I believe,
Madam. My father was a farmer, my grandfather
a blacksmith, and beyond that my ancestors
may have been street-sweepers, for anything I
know; but whatever they were, I fancy they were
honest men, for that has always been our boast,
though, like President Jackson's, our coat-of-arms
is nothing but 'a pair of shirt-sleeves.'"
From Debby's eyes there shot a bright glance
of admiration for the young man who could look
two comely women in the face and serenely own
that he was poor. Mrs. Carroll tried to appear at
ease, and, gliding out of personalities, expatiated
on the comfort of "living in a land where fame
and fortune were attainable by all who chose to
earn them," and the contempt she felt for those
"who had no sympathy with the humbler classes,
no interest in the welfare of the race," and many
more moral reflections as new and original as the
Multiplication-Table or the Westminster Catechism.
To all of which Mr. Evan listened with
polite deference, though there was something in
the keen intelligence of his eye that made Debby
blush for shallow Aunt Pen, and rejoice when the
good lady got out of her depth and seized upon a
new subject as a drowning mariner would a hen-coop.
"Dora, Mr. Ellenborough is coming this way;
you have danced with him but once, and he is a
very desirable partner; so, pray, accept, if he asks
you," said Mrs. Carroll, watching a far-off individual
who seemed steering his zigzag course toward them.
"I never intend to dance with Mr. Ellenborough
again, so please don't urge me, Aunt Pen; "
and Debby knit her brows with a somewhat irate
expression.
"My love, you astonish me! He is a most agreeable
and accomplished young man,--spent three years in
Paris, moves in the first circles, and is considered
an ornament to fashionable society.
"What can be your objection, Dora?" cried Mrs.
Carroll, looking as alarmed as if her niece had
suddenly announced her belief in the Koran.
"One of his accomplishments consists in drinking
champagne till he is not a 'desirable partner'
for any young lady with a prejudice in favor of
decency. His moving in 'circles' is just what I
complain of; and if he is an ornament, I prefer
my society undecorated. Aunt Pen, I cannot
make the nice distinctions you would have me,
and a sot in broadcloth is as odious as one in rags.
Forgive me, but I cannot dance with that silver-
labelled decanter again."
Debby was a genuine little piece of womanhood;
and though she tried to speak lightly, her
color deepened, as she remembered looks that had
wounded her like insults, and her indignant eyes
silenced the excuses rising to her aunt's lips. Mrs.
Carroll began to rue the hour she ever undertook
the guidance of Sister Deborah's headstrong child,
and for an instant heartily wished she had left her
to bloom unseen in the shadow of the parsonage;
but she concealed her annoyance, still hoping to
overcome the girl's absurd resolve, by saying,
mildly,--
"As you please, dear; but if you refuse Mr.
Ellenborough, you will be obliged to sit through
the dance, which is your favorite, you know."
Debby's countenance fell, for she had forgotten
that, and the Lancers was to her the crowning
rapture of the night. She paused a moment, and
Aunt Pen brightened; but Debby made her little
sacrifice to principle as heroically as many a greater
one had been made, and, with a wistful look down
the long room, answered steadily, though her foot
kept time to the first strains as she spoke,--
"Then I will sit, Aunt Pen; for that is preferable
to staggering about the room with a partner
who has no idea of the laws of gravitation."
"Shall I have the honor of averting either calamity?"
said Mr. Evan, coming to the rescue with
a devotion beautiful to see; for dancing was nearly
a lost art with him, and the Lancers to a novice is
equal to a second Labyrinth of Crete.
"Oh, thank you!" cried Debby, tumbling fan,
bouquet, and handkerchief into Mrs. Carroll's lap,
with a look of relief that repaid him fourfold for
the trials he was about to undergo. They went
merrily away together, leaving Aunt Pen to wish
that it was according to the laws of etiquette to
rap officious gentlemen over the knuckles, when
they introduce their fingers into private pies
without permission from the chief cook. How the
dance went Debby hardly knew, for the conversation
fell upon books, and in the interest of her
favorite theme she found even the "grand square"
an impertinent interruption, while her own deficiences
became almost as great as her partner's;
yet, when the music ended with a flourish, and her
last curtsy was successfully achieved, she longed
to begin all over again, and secretly regretted that
she was engaged four deep.
"How do you like our new acquaintance, Dora?" asked
Aunt Pen, following Joe Leavenworth with her eye,
as the "yellow-haired laddie" whirled by with the
ponderous Miss Flora.
"Very much; and I'm glad we met as we did,
for it makes things free and easy, and that is so
agreeable in this ceremonious place," replied
Debby, looking in quite an opposite direction.
"Well, I'm delighted to hear you say so, dear,
for I was afraid you had taken a dislike to him,
and he is really a very charming young man, just
the sort of person to make a pleasant companion
for a few weeks. These little friendships are part
of the summer's amusement, and do no harm; so
smile away. Dora, and enjoy yourself while you
may."
"Yes, Aunt, I certainly will, and all the more
because I have found a sensible soul to talk to.
Do you know, he is very witty and well informed,
though he says he never had much time for self-
cultivation? But I think trouble makes people
wise, and he seems to have had a good deal,
though he leaves it for others to tell of. I am
glad you are willing I should know him, for I
shall enjoy talking about my pet heroes with him
as a relief from the silly chatter I must keep up
most of the time."
Mrs. Carroll was a woman of one idea; and
though a slightly puzzled expression appeared in
her face, she listened approvingly, and answered,
with a gracious smile,--
"Of course, I should not object to your knowing
such a person, my love; but I'd no idea Joe
Leavenworth was a literary man, or had known
much trouble, except his father's death and his
sister Clementina's runaway-marriage with her
drawing-master."
Debby opened her brown eyes very wide, and
hastily picked at the down on her fan, but had
no time to correct her aunt's mistake, for the real
subject of her commendations appeared at that
moment, and Mrs. Caroll was immediately absorbed
in the consumption of a large pink ice.
"That girl is what I call a surprise-party, now,"
remarked Mr. Joe confidentially to his cigar, as
he pulled off his coat and stuck his feet up in the
privacy of his own apartment. "She looks as mild
as strawberries and cream till you come to the
complimentary, then she turns on a fellow with
that deused satirical look of hers, and makes him
feel like a fool. I'll try the moral dodge to-morrow
and see what effect that will have; for she is
mighty taking, and I must amuse myself somehow,
you know."
"How many years will it take to change that
fresh-hearted little girl into a fashionable belle,
I wonder?" thought Frank Evan, as he climbed
the four flights that led to his "sky-parlor."
"What a curious world this is!" mused
Debby, with her nightcap in her hand. "The
right seems odd and rude, the wrong respectable
and easy, and this sort of life a merry-go-round,
with no higher aim than pleasure. Well, I have
made my Declaration of Independence, and Aunt
Pen must be ready for a Revolution if she taxes
me too heavily."
As she leaned her hot cheek on her arm,
Debby's eye fell on the quaint little cap made
by the motherly hands that never were tired of
working for her. She touched it tenderly, and
love's simple magic swept the gathering shadows
from her face, and left it clear again, as her
thoughts flew home like birds into the shelter of
their nest.
"Good night, mother! I'll face temptation steadily.
I'll try to take life cheerily, and do nothing that
shall make your dear face a reproach, when it looks
into my own again."
Then Debby said her prayers like any pious
child, and lay down to dream of pulling
buttercups with Baby Bess, and singing in the
twilight on her father's knee.
The history of Debby's first day might serve
as a sample of most that followed, as week after
week went by with varying pleasures and increasing
interest to more than one young debutante.
Mrs. Carroll did her best, but Debby was too
simple for a belle, too honest for a flirt, too
independent for a fine lady; she would be nothing
but her sturdy little self, open as daylight, gay as
a lark, and blunt as any Puritan. Poor Aunt
Pen was in despair, till she observed that the girl
often "took" with the very peculiarities which
she was lamenting; this somewhat consoled her,
and she tried to make the best of the pretty bit
of homespun which would not and could not become
velvet or brocade. Seguin, Ellenborough,
& Co. looked with lordly scorn upon her, as a
worm blind to their attractions. Miss MacRimsy
and her "set" quizzed her unmercifully behind
her back, after being worsted in several passages
of arms; and more than one successful mamma
condoled with Aunt Pen upon the terribly defective
education of her charge, till that stout matron
could have found it in her heart to tweak off their
caps and walk on them, like the irascible Betsey
Trotwood.
But Debby had a circle of admirers who loved
her with a sincerity few summer queens could
boast; for they were real friends, won by gentle
arts, and retained by the gracious sweetness of her
nature. Moon-faced babies crowed and clapped
their chubby hands when she passed by their
wicker-thrones; story-loving children clustered
round her knee, and never were denied; pale invalids
found wild-flowers on their pillows; and
forlorn papas forgot the state of the moneymarket
when she sang for them the homely airs their
daughters had no time to learn. Certain plain
young ladies poured their woes into her friendly
ear, and were comforted; several smart Sophomores
fell into a state of chronic stammer, blush,
and adoration, when she took a motherly interest
in their affairs; and a melancholy old Frenchman
blessed her with the enthusiasm of his nation, because
she put a posy in the button-hole of his
rusty coat, and never failed to smile and bow as
he passed by. Yet Debby was no Edgworth heroine
preternaturally prudent, wise, and untemptable;
she had a fine crop of piques, vanities, and
dislikes growing up under this new style of cultivation.
She loved admiration, enjoyed her purple
and fine linen, hid new-born envy, disappointed
hope, and wounded pride behind a smiling face,
and often thought with a sigh of the humdrum
duties that awaited her at home. But under the
airs and graces Aunt Pen cherished with such
sedulous care, under the flounces and furbelows
Victorine daily adjusted with groans, under the
polish which she acquired with feminine ease, the
girl's heart still beat steadfast and strong, and
conscience kept watch and ward that no traitor should
enter in to surprise the citadel which mother-love
had tried to garrison so well.
In pursuance of his sage resolve, Mr. Joe tried
the "moral dodge," as he elegantly expressed it,
and, failing in that, followed it up with the tragic,
religious, negligent, and devoted ditto; but acting
was not his forte, so Debby routed him in all; and
at last, when he was at his wit's end for an idea,
she suggested one, and completed her victory by
saying pleasantly,--
"You took me behind the curtain too soon, and
now the paste-diamonds and cotton-velvet don't
impose upon me a bit. Just be your natural self,
and we shall get on nicely, Mr. Leavenworth."
The novelty of the proposal struck his fancy,
and after a few relapses it was carried into effect
and thenceforth, with Debby, he became the
simple, good-humored lad Nature designed him
to be, and, as a proof of it, soon fell very sincerely
in love.
Frank Evan, seated in the parquet of society,
surveyed the dress-circle with much the same
expression that Debby had seen during Aunt Pen's
oration; but he soon neglected that amusement
to watch several actors in the drama going on
before his eyes, while a strong desire to perform a
part therein slowly took possession of his mind.
Debby always had a look of welcome when he
came, always treated him with the kindness of a
generous woman who has had an opportunity to
forgive, and always watched the serious, solitary
man with a great compassion for his loss, a growing
admiration for his upright life. More than
once the beach-birds saw two figures pacing the
sands at sunrise with the peace of early day upon
their faces and the light of a kindred mood shining
in their eyes. More than once the friendly ocean
made a third in the pleasant conversation, and its
low undertone came and went between the mellow
bass and silvery treble of the human voices
with a melody that lent another charm to interviews
which soon grew wondrous sweet to man
and maid. Aunt Pen seldom saw the twain together,
seldom spoke of Evan; and Debby held
her peace, for, when she planned to make her
innocent confessions, she found that what seemed
much to her was nothing to another ear and
scarcely worth the telling; so, unconscious as yet
whither the green path led, she went on her way,
leading two lives, one rich and earnest, hoarded
deep within herself, the other frivolous and gay
for all the world to criticize. But those venerable
spinsters, the Fates, took the matter into their own
hands, and soon got the better of those short-sighted
matrons, Mesdames Grundy and Carroll;
for, long before they knew it, Frank and Debby
had begun to read together a book greater than
Dickens ever wrote, and when they had come to
the fairest part of the sweet story Adam first told
Eve, they looked for the name upon the title-page,
and found that it was "Love."
Fight weeks came and went,--eight wonderfully
happy weeks to Debby and her friend; for
"propinquity" had worked more wonders than poor
Mrs. Carroll knew, as the only one she saw or guessed
was the utter captivation of Joe Leavenworth.
He had become "himself" to such an extent that a
change of identity would have been a relief; for
the object of his adoration showed no
signs of relenting, and he began to fear, that, as
Debby said, her heart was "not in the market."
She was always friendly, but never made those
interesting betrayals of regard which are so
encouraging to youthful gentlemen "who fain would
climb, yet fear to fall." She never blushed when
he pressed her hand, never fainted or grew pale
when he appeared with a smashed trotting-wagon
and black eye, and actually slept through a
serenade that would have won any other woman's
soul out of her body with its despairing quavers.
Matters were getting desperate; for horses lost
their charms, "flowing bowls" palled upon his
lips, ruffled shirt-bosoms no longer delighted him,
and hops possessed no soothing power to allay
the anguish of his mind. Mr. Seguin, after
unavailing ridicule and pity, took compassion on
him, and from his large experience suggested a
remedy, just as he was departing for a more
congenial sphere.
"Now don't be an idiot, Joe, but, if you want
to keep your hand in and go through a regular
chapter of flirtation, just right about face, and
devote yourself to some one else. Nothing like
jealousy to teach womankind their own minds,
and a touch of it will bring little Wilder round in
a jiffy. Try it, my boy, and good luck to you!"
--with which Christian advice Mr. Seguin slapped
his pupil on the shoulder, and disappeared, like
a modern Mephistopheles, in a cloud of cigar-smoke.
"I'm glad he's gone, for in my present state of
mind he's not up to my mark at all. I'll try his
plan, though, and flirt with Clara West; she's
engaged, so it won't damage her affections; her
lover isn't here, so it won't disturb his; and, by
Jove! I must do something, for I can't stand this
suspense."
Debby was infinitely relieved by this new move,
and infinitely amused as she guessed the motive
that prompted it; but the more contented she
seemed, the more violently Mr. Joe flirted with her
rival, till at last weak-minded Miss Clara began to
think her absent George the most undesirable of
lovers, and to mourn that she ever said "Yes"
to a merchant's clerk, when she might have said it
to a merchant's son. Aunt Pen watched and approved
this stratagem, hoped for the best results,
and believed the day won when Debby grew pale
and silent, and followed with her eyes the young
couple who were playing battledoor and shuttle-cock
with each other's hearts, as if she took some
interest in the game. But Aunt Pen clashed
her cymbals too soon; for Debby's trouble had a
better source than jealousy, and in the silence of
the sleepless nights that stole her bloom she was
taking counsel of her own full heart, and resolving
to serve another woman as she would herself be
served in a like peril, though etiquette was outraged
and the customs of polite society turned upside down.
"Look, Aunt Pen! what lovely shells and moss
I've got! Such a splendid scramble over the rocks
as I've had with Mrs. Duncan's boys! It seemed
so like home to run and sing with a troop of
topsy-turvy children that it did me good; and I wish you
had all been there to see." cried Debby, running
into the drawing-room, one day, where Mrs. Carroll
and a circle of ladies sat enjoying a dish of
highly flavored scandal, as they exercised their
eyesight over fancy-work.
"My dear Dora, spare my nerves; and if you
have any regard for the proprieties of life, don't go
romping in the sun with a parcel of noisy boys. If
you could see what an object you are, I think you
would try to imitate Miss Clara, who is always a
model of elegant repose."
Miss West primmed up her lips, and settled a
fold in her ninth flounce, as Mrs. Carroll spoke,
while the whole group fixed their eyes with
dignified disapproval on the invader of their refined
society. Debby had come like a fresh wind into
a sultry room; but no one welcomed the healthful
visitant, no one saw a pleasant picture in the
bright-faced girl with windtossed hair and rustic
hat heaped with moss and many-tinted shells; they
only saw that her gown was wet, her gloves forgotten,
and her scarf trailing at her waist in a manner no
well-bred lady could approve. The sunshine faded out
of Debby's face, and there was a touch of bitterness
in her tone, as she glanced at the circle of fashion-plates,
saying with an earnestness which caused Miss West to
open her pale eyes to their widest extent,--
"Aunt Pen, don't freeze me yet,--don't take
away my faith in simple things, but let me be a
child a little longer,--let me play and sing and keep
my spirit blithe among the dandelions and the
robins while I can; for trouble comes soon enough,
and all my life will be the richer and the better for
a happy youth."
Mrs. Carroll had nothing at hand to offer in
reply to this appeal, and four ladies dropped their
work to stare; but Frank Evan looked in from
the piazza, saying, as he beckoned like a boy,--
"I'll play with you, Miss Dora; come and make
sand pies upon the shore. Please let her, Mrs.
Carroll; we'll be very good, and not wet our
pinafores or feet."
Without waiting for permission, Debby poured
her treasures into the lap of a certain lame Freddy,
and went away to a kind of play she had never
known before. Quiet as a chidden child, she
walked beside her companion, who looked down
at the little figure, longing to take it on his knee
and call the sunshine back again. That he dared
not do; but accident, the lover's friend, performed
the work, and did him a good turn beside. The
old Frenchman was slowly approaching, when a
frolicsome wind whisked off his hat and sent it
skimming along the beach. In spite of her late
lecture, away went Debby, and caught the truant
chapeau just as a wave was hurrying up to claim
it. This restored her cheerfulness, and when she
returned, she was herself again.
"A thousand thanks; but does Mademoiselle
remember the forfeit I might demand to add to the
favor she has already done me?" asked the gallant
old gentleman, as Debby took the hat off
her own head, and presented it with a martial
salute.
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