Christine: Or Woman's Trials and Triumphs

4. Woodland Vale

43 ch a p ter f our Woodland Vale It was at the close of a pleasant day that Christine and her aunt reached Woodland Vale, where was situated Mrs. Frothingham ’s school.8 It was not a large town, and she seemed to be well known as a personage of distinction, by the crowd of loiterers around the depot. They made way for her respectfully, as she entered her carriage, leaving her servant to attend to her baggage. It was a plain but elegant vehicle, displaying, as did everything else about its owner, her good taste. A short ride brought them to the Seminary, a large, stone building, surrounded by extensive grounds, tastefully laid out, while tall trees were scattered around, singly or in small clumps, giving an air of naturalness to the grounds, which would else have seemed too artificial. Mrs. Frothingham was met at the door by the housekeeper, a tall and stately personage, who greeted her mistress with great respect, and looked at the plainly dressed Christine with no little surprise. “This is my niece, Miss Christine Elliot, Mrs. Rogers,” said Mrs. Frothingham. “Have you a room in readiness for her?”   Christine 44 “I will have one in a few moments, ma’am,” replied Mrs. Rogers , ushering Christine into a small but elegantly furnished apartment, called the reception-room. Christine had never seen anything so beautiful, yet all was plain, though rich, there. Her foot sank into the soft carpet, whose deep, rich colors harmonized well with the heavy green curtains which shaded the bay-windows, where soft lace drapery also fell. A small marble table stood in the centre of the room, directly under a chandelier, and a large mirror, opposite the door, reflected the quaint-looking chairs, with their straight and carved backs, so perfectly that, at first, Christine took it to be the entrance into another apartment, and had been startled to perceive a stranger girl there. “Oh, how beautiful it is!” was her thought, as she contrasted all around her with her own plainly furnished home, and it seemed to her that, in so lovely a spot, it would be impossible to be otherwise than happy. She had yet to learn that happiness is wholly unaffected by externals. She had sunk back on a luxurious lounge, half closing her eyes, and giving herself up to a sort of passive enjoyment, when Mrs. Rogers reappeared. “I will show you your chamber, Miss,” she said; and Christine followed her through a tessellated hall, whose lofty walls and her own echoing footsteps reminded her of palaces of which she had read. Up a winding stairway she followed her guide through another hall to a chamber, whose door stood open. She entered it and was again alone. “Can this be mine?” was her delighted thought, as she glanced at the furniture of pale blue and gilt, the pretty chairs, the low bedstead, the bright carpet, and best of all, a small bookcase containing a few books. The chamber was, indeed, very prettily, though simply, furnished , but to Christine’s inexperienced eyes it was magnificent indeed. Christine 45 From the window she gazed with new delight, for it commanded a fine view of the grounds around the building, and the sunset clouds of crimson and gold, in all their gorgeous and ever-changing beauty, were outspread before her. She had stood there for a long while, all unconscious of the lapse of time, when a light rap was heard at her door, and her aunt entered. She was dressed in a bright blue silk; she wore also a delicate lace stomacher, and undersleeves of the same rich material.9 Her whole attire was tasteful and becoming in the extreme, and if she had been in doubt as to her taste, Christine ’s glance of admiration might have satisfied a more exacting artist. “What, Christine! your dress not yet changed?” she said, in a tone of surprise. “I forgot, dear aunt,” was Christine’s timid reply. “It was so beautiful here that I did not realize how late it was.” “I dislike dilatoriness exceedingly,” was Mrs. Frothingham’s answer. “The tea-bell will soon ring, so pray proceed at once to change your dress.” Fortunately Christine was not detained by doubts as to which dress she should put on. She had but one best dress, her pink calico, which she quietly assumed, and in a few...