Miss Ayr of Virginia, & other stories

When Miss Ayr of Virginia came down to take her place on the coach for the races, in company with her cousins, the Miss Ayrs of New York, there was a discrepancy between the former and the latter which could scarcely have failed to attract attention. It could not be denied that the advantage was on the side of the last-named ladies, though Miss Ayr of Virginia was exquisite, and they were plain.

Compared with such costumes as they wore, however, such chic, such height, such distinguished bearing, what was mere beauty? The little country girl, with her village-made costume, just saved from absolute dowdiness by a few touches from her cousins’ maid (which she had inwardly resented), was certainly a fish out of water in that jaunty party; and in her wretched little soul she felt it.

Moreover, her dress was not only countrified, it was unbecoming. Its style of construction quite disguised her slight and charming figure, and her hat was as complete a handicap for a beautiful face as could well have been invented.

She did not realize this, not having as yet entirely lost her buoyant belief in herself, which was one result of her being an only child and the spoiled darling of her father, besides being the recognized belle of her county. What she did realize, however, was that these fashionable cousins of hers found her a nuisance, and that the invitation which she had received from their father would never have come from themselves.

The Miss Ayrs of New York were partly right in what they said of their cousin, namely, that she had been badly brought up. This fact might possibly have been overlooked on the score of her having lost her mother in childhood, but for the other fact, that the Miss Ayrs of New York were in the same case, and yet felt proudly conscious that they could challenge the world as to their unimpeachable good form. There was one important difference between the two families, however. The Ayrs of New York were rich, while the Ayrs of Virginia were poor. The war, which had caused the impoverishment of the latter branch of the family was not yet so far back in the past but that days of opulence and ease could yet be remembered, even by this sole representative in the present generation, Miss Carter Ayr, who, now for the first time emerged from the safety and seclusion of her beloved South, was come to taste the delights of a season in New York.

The two brothers, who were the respective heads of the families, had both been left widowers, and neither of them had re-married; but John Ayr of New York had been able to give his daughters the very best that money could do for them, in the way of governesses and chaperonage and foreign travel, while Henry Ayr of Virginia had had to content himself with the ministrations of a gentle, old-maid cousin, who had been governess and chaperon in one, and had let Carter grow up much as she chose--a fact which had not in the least interfered with her father’s complete satisfaction with her.

There were three Miss Ayrs of New York, and they were all tall, and imposing, and perfectly dressed. They were particularly showy for an occasion such as the present, which was, perhaps, one reason why Jim Stafford, the young bachelor millionaire to whom all society did reverence, had invited all three of them to go out on his coach to-day. Jim was a very good-natured fellow, however, and often did things with no other prompting than that quality, and so, when Mr. Ayr, hearing the matter discussed over night, and no provision made for Carter, had insisted that one of the girls should yield her place to her cousin, Jim had good-naturedly said there was room for all, and Mr. Ayr had decreed that Carter should go. He generally interfered very little, but his daughters knew that when he spoke he meant to be obeyed.

So, in this way, it happened that little Carter Ayr found herself in the midst of that fluttering, chattering, bantering party, whose jargon was wholly unfamiliar, and whose manner toward herself seemed to surround her with an atmosphere of chill and constraint.

As the female element was so largely supplied by the ladies Ayr, most of the strangers whom Carter saw about her were men. She had never seen such men as these before, except in a tailor’s picture-plate, and she felt rather a contempt for them, as country-bred people are apt to feel toward those who dress as they have neither the means nor the knowledge to dress. Carter, with her provincial prejudice against fastidiousness in dress, particularly on the part of men, now got some sense of inward support by adopting a supercilious criticism of the exquisitely cared for details of the costumes of these men. She had a standard in her little Southern heart by which she liked to believe that she measured these fashionable gentlemen into puniness.

In spite of all her loyalty to a very different type, she could not help feeling lonely and depressed, as she was assisted to mount to her high seat, while the grooms could hardly keep in check the impatience of the four superbly harnessed horses. Carter, who knew the points of a horse, thought the harness rather outdid the horses themselves, but what did her opinion amount to in this company, where she was so evidently a supernumerary and an incubus?

It was an uncommonly pretty foot that she put on the ladder to mount, but it had on a very bad shoe. Even the big and clumsy feet of her cousins contrasted favorably with it, for the reason that their shoes were of shiny patent leather, with sharply-pointed toes, which made her little blunt ones look somehow stunted and shabby. But then, again, she had reason to reflect that no one was noticing her!

Who has not felt a certain sense of pity on festal occasions, for the friend who is brought? That person seems, somehow, surrounded with a sort of blight among the others who have come by a process of natural selection.

But if any heart, under those fashionable habiliments, felt a tender sentiment for Carter, no one showed it. Jim Stafford, himself, was wholly occupied with handling the reins, as they drove through the crowded streets. The Misses Gladys, Ethel, and Rosamond Ayr were making themselves as painstakingly agreeable to the men beside them as if it had been their business to divert attention from all the others present, and the married woman, who was acting as chaperon to the party, was the most cold and unapproachable of the lot--or so Carter had concluded, when one of her cousins had given her a casual introduction to Mrs. Emory, as “Miss Ayr of Virginia.”

Somehow, the intonation with which it had been said had given an indefinable offense to Carter, and when other members of the party took it up and said:

“Help Miss Ayr of Virginia to her place,” or “Miss Ayr of Virginia comes next,” or “Don’t crowd Miss Ayr of Virginia,” though it was all said in an amiable way, Carter’s sense of resentment deepened. There seemed to be a certain disrespect to her beloved State implied, and that was more than she could calmly bear.

It was a new and exciting experience to her to be whirled through the thronged city streets, and gazed at by admiring crowds, upon whom she looked down from such a great height that it almost made her dizzy. If she had been in a congenial atmosphere, it would have been delightful, for she was inherently pleasure-loving, and her blood was young and ardent; but, as things were, everything seemed to add to her sense of loneliness and depression.

The sky had been overcast when they started out, but now, suddenly, the sun appeared, and with it came a little gleam across the shadows on Carter’s face. She had felt bitterly the fact that she was ill-dressed (though, at home, these clothes had seemed to her good enough for any company in the world!) but with the appearance of the sunshine she had remembered the one really incontrovertibly handsome and imposing thing which she possessed--an elegant parasol, which she had bought the day before at a very fashionable place, and for a price which a week ago would have frightened her. Her father had paid over to her a little legacy from an aunt, and she had intended to invest this in jewels or some permanent thing, but she had heard her cousin Gladys admire that parasol, and, needing one, she had boldly purchased it.

So, here, at least, she could be confident, and it was with an air of satisfaction that she now unfurled her gorgeous sun-shade, and let the full glory of its laces and ribbons float to the breeze.

The motion that it made attracted general attention to her, and simultaneously with this she heard Gladys say, in a voice of excited protest:

“For heaven’s sake, tell Carter to put down that parasol!”

The word was then passed to Ethel, who, in the same excited tone, passed it to the man seated next to Carter.

“Miss Ayr of Virginia is requested to lower her parasol,” he said, with more amiability in his manners than her two cousins had used.

Carter, who had heard the behest, when it had originated with her eldest cousin, did not at once succumb, but said, from under the flaunting glory of the proscribed article:

“Why?”

“Of course, coming from Virginia she didn’t know,” she heard her cousin saying in a tone of contemptuous extenuation, which she hotly resented.

No one had answered her question, however, and so turning to the woman who sat nearest to her--it happened to be Mrs. Emory--she said:

“Why shouldn’t I raise my parasol, if the sun is out?”

“It isn’t done,” was the answer, given curtly and coldly, and Mrs. Emory returned at once to her talk with her neighbor.

Carter, of course, furled her offending sun-shade, feeling snubbed and sore. It would have been childish and rude to persist, but she was not only hurt, but puzzled. Being from the rural regions she had not as her cousin suggested, any knowledge of the fact that it was not considered smart to raise a parasol on a coach. This sacred tenet was so strictly adhered to, however, that although it was a warm and dusty autumn day, the ladies endured the heat unmurmuringly, staring with haughty superiority at the coaches on which the people were pleasantly shaded by their parasols.

By the time the entrance to the race-course was reached, Carter was completely miserable. She despised the trivial conventions to which she saw such importance attached, and she had a sense of suppressed rage at being forced into an inferior position by people to whom she felt herself superior.

She was no more conceited than an only child, and an acknowledged belle and beauty might be excused for being, and she did know, in her heart, that she would have been incapable of treating the meanest slave on her father’s estate as unkindly as she felt that these people were treating her.

No one noticed her as they went bowling along in the crowded procession of vehicles, until, near the entrance, they came to a sudden halt, the carriage in front of them having halted also.

The footmen sprang down and went to the leaders’ heads, while necks were craned and eager questions put as to the cause of the blockade.