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
Meanwhile Katy had been ushered into her room, which was directly over
the library, and separated from Mrs. Cameron’s only by a range of
closets and presses, a portion of which were to be appropriated to her
own use. Great pains had been taken to make her rooms attractive, and as
the large bay window in the library below extended to the third story,
it was really the pleasantest chamber in the house. To Katy it was
perfect, and her first exclamation was one of delight.
“Oh, how pleasant, how beautiful!” she cried, skipping across the soft
carpet to the warm fire blazing in the grate. “A bay window, too, when I
like them so much. I shall be happy here.”
But happy as she was, Katy could not help feeling tired, and she sank
into one of the luxurious easy-chairs, wishing she could stay there all
the evening instead of going down to that formidable dinner with her new
relations. How she dreaded it, especially when she remembered that Mrs.
Cameron had said there would be plenty of time to _dress_—a thing which
Katy hated, the process was so tiresome, particularly to-night. Surely
her handsome traveling dress, made in Paris, was good enough, and she
was about settling in her own mind to venture upon wearing it, when
Esther demolished her castle at once.
“Wear your traveling habit!” she exclaimed, “when the young ladies,
especially Miss Juno, are so particular about their dinner costume.
There would be no end to the scolding I should get for suffering it,”
and she began good-naturedly to remove her mistress’s collar and pin,
while Katy, standing up, sighed as she said, “I wish I was in Silverton
to-night. I could wear anything there. What must I put on? How I dread
it!” and she began to shiver again.
Fortunately for Katy, Esther had been in the family long enough to know
just what they regarded proper, as by this means the dress selected was
sure to please. It was very becoming to Katy, and having been made in
Paris was not open to criticism.
“Very pretty indeed,” was Mrs. Cameron’s verdict, when at half-past five
she came in to see her daughter, kissing her cheek and stroking her
head, wholly unadorned except by the short, silken curls which could not
be coaxed to grow faster than they chose, and which had sometimes
annoyed Wilford, they made his wife seem so young beside him. Mrs.
Cameron was annoyed, too, for she had no idea of a head except as it was
connected with a hair-dresser, and her annoyance showed itself as she
asked,
“Did you have your hair cut on purpose?”
But when Katy explained, she answered pleasantly,
“Never mind, it is a fault which will mend every day, only it makes you
look like a child.”
“I am eighteen and a half,” Katy said, feeling a lump rising in her
throat, for she guessed that her mother-in-law was not quite pleased
with her hair.
For herself, she liked it, it was so easy to brush and fix. She should
go wild if she had to submit to all Esther had told her of hair-dressing
and what it involved.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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