The Cameron pride; or, purified by suffering : $b A novelHolmes, Mary Jane
General
The Cameron pride; or, purified by suffering : $b A novel
Holmes, Mary Jane
American fiction -- 19th century
For three weeks Katy had been at the Mountain House, growing stronger
every day, until she was much like the Katy of one year ago. But their
stay among the Catskills was ended, and on the morrow they were going to
Saratoga, where Mrs. Cameron and her daughters were, and where, too, was
Sybil Grandon, the reigning belle of the United States. So Bell had
written to her brother, bidding him hasten on with Katy, as she wished
to see “that chit of a widow in her proper place.” And Katy had been
weak enough for a moment to feel a throb of satisfaction in knowing how
effectually Sybil’s claims to belle-ship would be put aside when she was
once in the field; even glancing at herself in the mirror as she leaned
on Wilford’s shoulder, and feeling glad that mountain air and mountain
exercise had brought the roses back to her white cheeks and the
brightness to her eyes. But Katy wept passionate tears of repentance for
that weakness, when an hour later she read the letter which Dr. Grant
had sent in answer to one she had written from the Mountain House,
confessing her short-comings, and lamenting that the evils and excesses
which shocked her once did not startle her now. To this letter Morris
had replied as a brother might write to an only sister, first expressing
pleasure at her happiness, and then reminding her of that other life to
which this is only a preparation, and beseeching her so to use the good
things of this world, given her in such profusion, as not to lose the
life eternal.
This was the substance of Morris’s letter, which Katy read with
streaming eyes, forgetting Saratoga as Morris’s solemn words of warning
and admonition rang in her ears, and shuddering as she thought of losing
the life eternal, of going where Morris would never come, nor any of
those she loved the best, unless it were Wilford, who might reproach her
with having dragged him there when she could have saved him.
“Keep yourself unspotted from the world,” Morris had said, and she
repeated it to herself, asking “how shall I do that? how can one be good
and fashionable too?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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