But Cornelia was no fool, to be made a butt of; and her personality was
too vigorous, her individuality too strong, not to make an impression
and way of its own wherever she was. The young ladies tried in vain to
patronize her: they had not the requisite capital in themselves; and the
young gentlemen soon gave up the attempt to make fun of her; her
vitality was too much for them, and they were, moreover, disconcerted by
her beauty. Miss Valeyon, however, was new to the world, and her
curiosity and vanity had large, unsatisfied appetites. To have been
patronized and made fun of would have done her little or no harm; but in
gratifying these appetites she might do a good deal of harm to herself.
The discussion of dress, to be sure, was something, and she found she
had much to learn even there. Then there was a great deal to be said
about sociables, and theatres, and sets, and fellows; and there was also
more or less conversation, carried on in a low tone that occasionally
descended to a whisper, which, beyond that it seemed to have reference
to marriage and kindred matters, was for the most part Greek to
Cornelia. A kind of metaphor was used which the country-bred minister's
daughter could not elucidate, nor could she comprehend how young ladies,
unmarried as she herself was, could know so much about things which
marriage alone is supposed to reveal.
Once or twice she had requested an explanation of some of these obscure
points, but her request had been met, first by a dead silence, then by a
laugh, and an inquiry whether she had no young married friends, and also
whether she had ever read the works of Paul Féval, Dumas, and
Balzac--all of which gave her little enlightenment, but taught her to
keep her mouth shut, and open her eyes and ears wider.
One day when "Aunt Margaret" had invited her to a tête-à-tête in the
boudoir, it occurred to Cornelia, in the wisdom of her heart, to take
advantage of the opportunity to introduce the subject. She was a widow:
was very good-natured; would be sure not to laugh at her, and could
hardly help knowing as much as the young ladies knew.
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Vanderplanck, as Cornelia entered, "such a
relief--such a refreshment to look at that sweet face of yours! There!
I must have my kiss, you know. Yes, I was just thinking of you, my
love--so longing to have a quiet chat with you--your dear
father!--such a grand man he is! such genius! Oh! I was his
devoted. Tell me all about him, and that sweet home of yours, and
dear little Sophie, too. Oh! I was so shocked, so terrified, to hear
of her illness; and--let me see!--oh, yes, and that new pupil your papa
has--Mr. Bressant--how is he? does he behave well? is he pleasant?
do you see much of him? does he keep himself quiet?--such a--"