Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 177, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 August 1918 — The Dolly Varden Gown [ARTICLE]

The Dolly Varden Gown

By SUSAN CLAGGETT

(Copyriaht, 1918, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) In the attic Eleanor Brooke dived Into the old horse-hair trunk that had once belonged to the great aunt after whom she was named. She was looking for and hoping to find something she could shape into a dress for the dance on the? fourth. Whenever she ■was at a loss for finery Aunt Eleanor’s trunk had been a veritable treasure trove, but so often had the girl gone through the contents she had small hope of finding anything that would he suitable for the party toward which she was looking forward with more than usual anticipation. _ Aunt Eleanor’s gowns were all of the heaviest brocades, velvets and satins, so stiff they would stand alone. She had never been stinted in money, as her namesake frequently was, and rich dresses, with here and there a time stain, that had come from London and were of a bygone style, had laid for long In the horse-hair trunk under the eaves until young Eleanor one morning pulled It into the light. With little exclamations of pleasure she opened the carefully wrapped packages and found herself heir to much that was totally unsuited to her youth and petite figure, even in a day When maids were gowned in costly ‘ stuff. But when one loves dances and has not the wherewithal to buy vanities, the fact that material is unsuitable has little weight, and she always carried the day against her mother’s more certain judgment of things fit and unfit. But if her gowns were not always what she should have worn, that fact was lost in the pleasure one found in looking at the animated face and the absolute joyousness of the girl herself. For this little story is of a time when girl«, young girls, were not so sophisticated as at the present day and their pleasures, coming far apart, made them all the more desirable, simple though they usually were. This dance had been heralded for weeks. General Washington had signified his intention to be present, pausing for a few hours in Upper Marlborough on his way to Annapolis. Naturally everyone was on the qui vive, and Eleanor Brooke forthwith went into the attic to search for a gown brave enough to do honor to the occasion. She knew what she wanted and lovingly fingered the heavy brocade covered with pink roses and the underskirt of pink satin that had long been her utmost desire. And more daring still was the wish to wear the gown just as it was, quaint in its looped-up overdress and watteau plait. She shook out the folds of satin and held it against her height. It was long, yery long, for Great Aunt Eleanor had been a tall woman. But she had also been slight, and when later her namesake stood in her own room and twisted and turned before the mirror to get a glimpse of her back, she decided the only change needed was in length. It was a lovely gown and she would have been a very Indifferent girl if she had not been thrilled by the vision that peered half shyly at her from the giltframed glass. It was the first time her face had Impressed her and the dain-tily-colored oval with its shining eyes, framed in waving hair, made her wonder if it really was herself. Her color flamed at a deeper thought which she tried to hide from her consciousness, but it would obtrude, and at last She faced it. “Would he like it.” Even to herself she hesitated to call his name. For before all others she wished to appear fair in his sight. She gave-no thought to other guests who would come from Georgetown. Alexandria. Baltimore and Annapolis on horseback and in great coaches, drawn by four horses. Four horses were always used upon state occasions, and what more important event could there be than this ball, the first after the Declaration of Independence? There had been much rain and the roads were deep, and the maids in and about Marlborough watched the clouds and prayed for a south wind that wauld dry the mud, while the young men of the coun- < ty made the assembly room brave with and greenery. Even with greatest interest Eleanor Brooke watched the clouds, for lived a long way from Upper Marlborough and wa£ to stay with her grandmother at “Croome” over the fourth, and for a little visit thereafter. There was the chance her father would think the mud too deep to drive from near Mattapony Landing, and whenever that thought occurred there was a sinking at her heart for fear she might lose the long-looked-for pleasure. But the day of her expected visit rose clpar and* bright, and With her horse-hair trunk strapped tight on the rumble and Uncle Clem and Jake in front, she set out with her mother for “Croome.” It was a weary way through the mud and night had fallen before the carriage encircled the drive at her grandmother’s, but weariness was forgotten as she gazed out at the windows and recognized voices and faces as the house door was thrown open and a group of young people rushed ouj to greet her, for Eleanor was but one of a group of cousins gathered together for the Independence ball. Even as she spoke to the gay crowd while waiting for Unde Clem to let

down the carriage steps, Eleanor looked about, longing, yet afraid to meet the quizzical eyes of John Eversfield, and her heart sank when she did not see him. The pleasure she anticipated turned to a dull ache and she twisted her lace kerchief between her fingers as she leaned further forward hoping to gain a glimpse of him. Then pride came to her aid. He had promised to be the first to meet her, and she must not let this crowd of cousins sense her disappointment. With a light laugh that well covered the ache at her heart, she accepted the extended hand of Allan Bowie and descended from the high carriage. This was two days before the ball. “Isn’t it too had,” Ruth Worthington •whispered to her that night, as they went up the stairs together, “Cousin John sent John, Jr., to Baltimore upon affairs of importance. I think it a shame. He might have waited until after the'ball. Although John told me nothing but death would keep him away, there is always the chance of something happening. But even if he does get back in time for the dance, he will miss the good time we are having, and Cousin John was certainly mean to choose this opportunity for pressing business.” Eleanor’s heavy heart lightened after hearing this and (file took her full share of the gayety that filled every minute of the day and evening. Although no coquette, as were some of the other pretty cousins, time did not lie heavily upon her hands, Allan Bowie saw to that, and Alec Worthington. Both young men were bewitched, and. between them she was kept fully occupied. The night of the dance, as she descended the stairs, brave in her DoHy Varden gown, no maid among them all was lovelier, and the two gallants, beruffled. powdered and dressed in the height of fashionable attire, all but came to blows in their effort to win her favor. But mistress Eleanor minded not that. She accepted their admiration shyly, which was most becoming, but underneath her pleasure was the hope John Eversfield would also find her good to look upon. Yet, when they left the house, early on account of the roads, he had not come, and'there was a tiny misgiving lest he might not be in time to see her in the wonderful gown or to claim the minuet he had begged for. ; Ruth pinched her as she was about to step into the carriage, whispering, as she handed her a small package: “I wonder if you can guess what this is? John Eversfleld’s Tom brought it. Fm dying of curiosity. Slip back into the house and open it before grandmother comes. There’s time,” and giving the girl a push, Ruth stepped into her place and gave back tit for tat, as the two young men called for an explanation of Eleanor’s sudden disappearance. , And in her room the girl was looking with fluctuating color upon a pearl-en-circled miniature while she opened with fingers that trembled the note twisted about the slender golden chain. There was only a line, but it made of life a beautiful thing,*for it asked for that which she was glad to give. Over slnd over she read the single line: “Dear, will you wear this for my sake?—John.” Then she slipped it into the bosom of her dress. With hesitating fingers she clasped the chain about her neck, but overcome by modesty at so flaunting her lover’s miniature for curious eyes to look upon, she hid it among the ruffles of her gown and hastily ran down the stairs, a radiant thing that took away one’s breath. Measure after measure was danced before John Eversfield appeared that night, and when he came, one arm was in a sling. “An accident,” he told them lightly, as he made his way to Eleanor’s side, where he stood so as to cut her off from the view of others. “Tom did not reach ‘Croome’ in time?” he asked, leaning toward her. “Yes,” she answered breathlessly. “I wear it here.” “But not before them all?” The color came and went upon her face. “I could not with you not present. I had no courage.” “And now?” She drew the miniature from among her laces, letting it, fall upon her , breast. “It is now. With you I have no fear of what is said.” “Then come.” He extended his hand as the slow music of the minuet filled the room, and together they took their places, in the sight of all, a man and a maid promised to each other.