A Little Journey in the WorldWarner, Charles Dudley
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A Little Journey in the World
Warner, Charles Dudley
American fiction -- 19th century
There was no rupture between the Hendersons and the Brandon circle, but
there was little intercourse of the kind that had existed before. There
was with us a profound sense of loss and sorrow, due partly to the
growing knowledge, not pleasing to our vanity, that Margaret could get
on very well without us, that we were not necessary to her life.
Miss Forsythe recovered promptly her cheerful serenity, but not the
elasticity of hope; she was irretrievably hurt; it was as if life was
now to be endured. That Margaret herself was apparently unconscious of
this, and that it did not affect much her own enjoyment, made it the
harder to bear. The absolute truth probably was that she regretted
it, and had moments of sentimental unhappiness; but there is great
compensation for such loss in the feeling of freedom to pursue a career
that is more and more agreeable. And I had to confess, when occasionally
I saw Margaret during that winter, that she did not need us. Why should
she? Did not the city offer her everything that she desired? And where
in the world are beauty, and gayety with a touch of daring, and a
magnificent establishment better appreciated? I do not know what
criterion newspaper notoriety is of social prestige, but Mrs. Rodney
Henderson's movements were as faithfully chronicled as if she had been
a visiting princess or an actress of eccentric proclivities. Her name
appeared as patroness of all the charities, the balls, the soirees,
musical and literary, and if it did not appear in a list of the persons
at any entertainment, one might suspect that the affair lacked the
cachet of the best society. I suppose the final test of one's importance
is to have all the details of one's wardrobe spread before the public.
Judged by this, Margaret's career in New York was phenomenal. Even our
interested household could not follow her in all the changing splendor
of her raiment. In time even Miss Forsythe ceased to read all these
details, but she cut them out, deposited them with other relics in a
sort of mortuary box of the child and the maiden. I used to wonder if,
in the Brandon attitude of mind at this period, there were not just
a little envy of such unclouded prosperity. It is so much easier to
forgive a failure than a success.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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