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Updated: June 21, 2025
The woman was Constance Brevoort and her escort was Ken Douglass! Even though clad in the conventional full dress in which she had never before beheld him, there was no mistaking that lean, muscular form and bronzed face. Eagerly she leaned forward, her lips parted and her face flushed with excitement.
Rutherford married a member of his mother's decorous, high-bred "set," and all his immediate relatives called most punctiliously on the bride when the newly-wedded pair arrived in New York after their six weeks' trip to Philadelphia and Washington. Mr. Rutherford decided to take rooms at the Brevoort House till he could purchase a suitable residence.
As their engagement had not been made public, she was spared the irritating commiseration which would otherwise have been her uneviable lot. All knowledge of it was fortunately restricted to Abbie, McVey, Brevoort and his wife; for obvious reasons it gained no further publicity.
Thence it ran through the Henry Brevoort farm, which originally extended from Ninth to Eighteenth Streets, and which had been bought in 1714 for four hundred pounds. Crossing the tributary stream at Twelfth Street, it passed a small pond between Thirteenth and Fourteenth Streets, and then ran on, over low and level ground, to Twenty-first Street, then called "Love's Lane."
Why this should have changed Brevoort's hasty inclination is explainable, perhaps, through that strange transition from the serious to the humorous; that quick relief from nervous tension that allows a man to readjust himself toward the universe. Brevoort cursed softly to himself as he strode to Pete. "Here they are. Found them back there a piece.
But the slight editorial care required by the magazine was irksome to a man who had an unconquerable repugnance to all periodical labor. In 1813 Francis Jeffrey made a visit to the United States. Henry Brevoort, who was then in London, wrote an anxious letter to Irving to impress him with the necessity of making much of Mr. Jeffrey.
"Don't like the looks of that," said Brevoort, as he pulled up his horse. "It's out in front of the 'dobe and it means the Ortez has got company." "Soldiers?" "Looks like it." "Arguilla's men?" "I reckon so. And they're up pretty clost to the line too clost to suit me. We'll ride round and do our talkin' with Ortez." "Ain't they friendly?" queried Pete. "Friendly, hell!
While Grace Carter was speeding homeward with a heavy heart, out at the VN ranch Constance Brevoort was In a delirium of feverish happiness, and Douglass, thrilled by her passionate abandon, had not yet tired. Upon him she showered all the affection so long repressed; and her fervor and intensity, which awed him not a little, was very flattering to his vanity.
He relied upon his friend Brevoort to give him the news of the town, and in return he wrote long letters, longer and more elaborate and formal than this generation has leisure to write or to read; letters in which the writer laid himself out to be entertaining, and detailed his emotions and state of mind as faithfully as his travels and outward experiences.
Brevoort and Weatherhead, were going to the United States from Santa Fe, with a large sum of money to purchase goods. One of the worst of frontier vagabonds, a fellow by the name of Fox, offered his services as guide, and to organize a company to escort them over the plains. He was a shrewd and plausible scoundrel, and his services were accepted.
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