to you, an office which I will perform without ceremony. My name is Paul
Le Clear," which Nicholas and we had already guessed correctly.
"And mine," said Nicholas, "is Nicholas,--Nicholas Judge."
"Very well, Mr. Judge; now let us have the story," said Paul, extending
himself in an easy attitude; "and begin at the beginning."
"The story begins with my birth," said Nicholas, with a reckless
ingenuousness which was a large part of his host's entertainment.
But it is unnecessary to recount in detail what Paul heard, beginning at
that epoch, twenty-two years back. Enough to say in brief what Nicholas
elaborated: that his mother had died at his birth, in a country home at
the foot of a mountain; that in that home he had lived, with his father
for almost solitary friend and teacher, until, his father dying, he had
come to the city to live; that he had but just reached the place, and
had made it his first object to find his mother's only sister, with
whom, indeed, his father had kept up no acquaintance, and for finding
whom he had but a slight clue, even if she were then living. Nicholas
brought his narrative in regular order down to the point where Paul had
so unexpectedly accosted him, stopping there, since subsequent facts
were fully known to both.
"And now," he concluded, warming with his subject, "I am in search of my
aunt. What sort of woman she will prove to be I cannot tell; but if
there is any virtue in sisterly blood, surely my Aunt Eunice cannot be
without some of that noble nature which belonged to my mother, as I have
heard her described, and as her miniature bids me believe in. How many
times of late, in my solitariness, have I pictured to myself this one
kinswoman receiving me for her sister's sake, and willing to befriend
me for my own! True, I am strong, and able, I think, to make my way in
the world unaided. It is not such help as would ease my necessary
struggle that I ask, but the sympathy which only blood-relationship can
bring. So I build great hopes on my success in the search; and I have
chosen this evening as a fit time for the happy recognition. I cannot
doubt that we shall keep our Christmas together. Do you know of any one,
Mr. Le Clear, living in this court, who might prove to be my aunt?"
"Upon my soul," said that gentleman, who had been sucking the juice of
Nicholas's narrative, and had now reached the skin, "you have come to
the last person likely to be able to tell you. It was only to-day that I
learned by a correspondence with Doctor Chocker, whom all the world
knows, that he was living just next door to me. Who lives on the other
side I can't tell. Mrs. Crimp lives here; but she receipts her bills,
Temperance A. Crimp; so there's no chance for a Eunice there. As for the
other three houses, I know nothing, except just this: and here I come to
my story, which is very short, and nothing like so entertaining as
yours. Yesterday I was called upon by a jiggoty little woman,--I say
jiggoty, because that expresses exactly my meaning,--a jiggoty little
woman, who announced herself as Miss Pix, living in Number Five, and who
brought an invitation in person to me to come to a small party at her
house this Christmas-eve; and as she was jiggoty, I thought I would
amuse myself by going. But she is _Miss_ Pix; and your aunt, according
to your showing, should be _Mrs._"
"That must be where the old gentleman, Doctor Chocker, is going," said
Nicholas, who had forgotten to mention that part of the Doctor's
remarks, and now did so.
"Really, that is entertaining!" cried Paul. "I certainly shall go, if
it's for nothing else than to see Miss Pix and Doctor Chocker together."
"Pardon my ignorance, Mr. Le Clear," said Nicholas, with a smile; "but
what do you mean by jiggoty?"
"I mean," said Paul, "to express a certain effervescence of manner, as
if one were corked against one's will, ending in a sudden pop of the
cork and a general overflowing. I invented the word after seeing Miss
Pix. She is an odd person; but I shouldn't wish to be so concerned about
my neighbors as she appears to be. My philosophy of life," he continued,
standing now before the fire, and receiving its entire radiation upon
the superficies of his back, "is to extract sunshine from cucumbers.
Think of living forty years, like Doctor Chocker, on the husks of the
digamma! I am obliged to him for his advice, but I sha'n't follow it.
Here are my books and prints; out of doors are people and Nature: I
propose to extract sunshine from all these cucumbers. The world was made
for us, and not we for the world. When I go to Miss Pix's this
evening,--and, by the way, it's 'most time to go,--I presume I shall
find one or two ripe cucumbers. Christmas, too, is a capital season for
this chemical experiment. I find people are more off their guard, and
offer special advantages for a curious observer and experimenter. Here
is my room; you see how I live; and when I have no visitor at tea, I
wind up my little musical box. You have no idea what a pretty picture I
make, sitting in my chair, the tea-table by me, the fire in the grate,
and the musical box for a cricket on the hearth"; and Mr. Le Clear
laughed good-humoredly.
Nicholas laughed, too. He had been smiling throughout the young
philosopher's discourse; but he was conscious of a little feeling of
uneasiness, as if he were being subjected to the cucumber-extract
process. He had intended at first to deliver the scheme of life which he
had adopted, but, on the whole, determined to postpone it. He rose to
go, and shook hands with Paul, who wished him all success in finding his
aunt; as for himself, he thought he got along better without aunts. The
two went down stairs to the door, causing very much the same dispersion
of the tribes as before; and Nicholas once more stood in Five-Sisters
Court, while Paul Le Clear returned to his charming bower, to be tickled
with the recollection of the adventure, and to prepare for Miss Pix's
party.
"On the whole, I think I won't disturb Doctor Chocker's mind by clearing
it up," said he to himself. "It might, too, bring on a repetition of the
fulmination against my paper which the young Judge seemed so to enjoy
relating. An innocent youth, certainly! I wonder if he expected me to
give him my autobiography."
Nicholas Judge confessed to himself a slight degree of despondency, as
he looked at the remaining two houses in the court, since Miss Pix's
would have to be counted out, and reflected that his chances of success
were dwindling. His recent conversation had left upon his mind, for some
reason which he hardly stopped now to explain, a disagreeable
impression; and he felt a trifle wearied of this very dubious
enterprise. What likelihood was there, if his aunt had lived here a long
time past, as he assumed in his calculations, that she would have failed
to make herself known in some way to Doctor Chocker? since the vision
which he had of this worthy lady was that of a kind-hearted and most
neighborly soul. But he reflected that city life must differ greatly
from that in the country, even more than he had conceded with all his _a
priori_ reasonings; and he decided to draw no hasty inferences, but to
proceed in the Baconian method by calling at Number Three. He was rather
out of conceit with his strategy of thirst, which had so fallen below
the actual modes of effecting an entrance, and now resolved to march
boldly up with the irresistible engine of straight-forward inquiry,--as
straight-forward, at least, as the circumstances would permit. He
knocked at the door. After a little delay, enlivened for him by the
interchange of voices within the house, apparently at opposite
extremities, a light approached, and the door was opened, disclosing a
large and florid-faced man, in his shirt-sleeves, holding a small and
sleepy lamp in his hand. Nicholas moved at once upon the enemy's works.
"Will you have the goodness to tell me, Sir, if a lady named Miss Eunice
Brown lives here?"--that being his aunt's maiden name, and possibly good
on demand thirty years after date. The reply came, after a moment's
deliberation, as if the man wished to gain time for an excursion into
some unexplored region of the house,--
"Well, Sir, I won't say positively that she doesn't; and yet I can say,
that, in one sense of the word, Miss Eunice Brown does not live here.
Will you walk in, and we will talk further about it."
Nicholas entered, though somewhat wondering how they were to settle Miss
Brown's residence there by the most protracted conversation. The man in
shirt-sleeves showed him into a sitting-room, and setting the lamp upon
the top of a corner what-not, where it twinkled like a distant star, he
gave Nicholas a seat, and took one opposite to him, first shutting the
door behind them.
"Will you give me your name, Sir?" said he.
Nicholas hesitated, not quite liking to part with it to one who might
misuse it.
"I have no objection," said his companion, in a sonorous voice, "to
giving my name to any one that asks it. My name is Soprian Manlius."
"And mine," said Nicholas, not to be outdone in generosity, "is Nicholas
Judge."
"Very well, Mr. Judge. Now we understand each other, I think. I asked
your name as a guaranty of good faith. Anonymous contributions cannot be
received, et cetera,--as they say at the head of newspapers. And that's
my rule of business, Sir. People come to me to ask the character of a
girl, and I ask their names. If they don't want to give them, I say,
'Very well; I can't intrust the girl's character to people without
name.' And it brings them out, Sir, it brings them out," said Mr.
Manlius, leaning back, and taking a distant view of his masterly
diplomacy.
"Do people come to you to inquire after persons' characters?" asked
Nicholas, somewhat surprised at happening upon such an oracle.
"Well, in a general way, no," said Mr. Manlius, smiling; "though I won't
say but that they would succeed as well here as in most places. In a
particular way, yes. I keep an intelligence-office. Here is my card,
Sir,"--pulling one out of his waistcoat-pocket, and presenting it to
Nicholas; "and you will see by the phraseology employed, that I have
unrivalled means for securing the most valuable help from all parts of
the world. Mr. Judge," he whispered, leaning forward, and holding up his
forefinger to enforce strict secrecy, "I keep a paid agent in Nova
Scotia." And once more Mr. Manlius retreated in his chair, to get the
whole effect of the announcement upon his visitor.
The internal economy of an office for obtaining and furnishing
intelligence might have been further revealed to Nicholas; but at this
moment a voice was heard on the outside of the door, calling, "S'prian!
S'prian! we're 'most ready."
"Coming, Caroline," replied Mr. Manlius, and, recalled to the object for
which his visitor was there, he turned to Nicholas, and resumed,--
"Well, Mr. Judge, about Miss Eunice Brown, whether she lives here or
not. Are you personally acquainted with Miss Brown?"
"No, Sir," said Nicholas, frankly. "I will tell you plainly my
predicament. Miss Eunice Brown was my mother's sister; but after my
mother's death, which took place at my birth, there was no intercourse
with her on the part of our family, which consisted of my father and
myself. My father, I ought to say, had no unfriendliness toward her, but
his habits of life were those of a solitary student; and therefore he
took no pains to keep up the acquaintance. He heard of her marriage, and
the subsequent death of her husband; rumor reached him of a second
marriage, but he never heard the name of the man she married in either
case. My father lately died; but before his death he advised me to seek
this aunt, if possible, since she was my only living near relation; and
he told me that he had heard of her living in this court many years ago.
So I have come here with faint hope of tracing her."
Mr. Manlius listened attentively to this explanation; and then
solemnly walking to the door, he called in a deep voice, as if
he would have the summons start from the very bottom of the house for
thoroughness,--"Caroline!"
The call was answered immediately by the appearance of Mrs. Manlius, in
a red dress, that put everything else in the room in the background.
"Caroline," said he, more impressively than would seem necessary, and
pointing to Nicholas, "this is Mr. Nicholas Judge. Mr. Judge, you see my
wife."
"But, my dear," said Mrs. Manlius, nervously, as soon as she had bowed,
discovering the feeble lamp, which was saving its light by burning very
dimly, "that lamp will be off the what-not in a moment. How could you
put it right on the edge?" And she took it down from its pinnacle, and
placed it firmly on the middle of a table, at a distance from anything
inflammable. "Mr. Manlius is so absent-minded, Sir," said she, turning
to Nicholas.
"Caroline," said her husband, "this will be a memorable day in the
history of our family. Eunice has found a dear sister's son."
"Where?" she asked, turning for explanation to Nicholas, who at Mr.
Manlius's words felt his heart beat quicker.
Then Mr. Manlius, in as few words as his dignity and the occasion would
deem suitable, stated the case to his wife, who looked admiringly upon
Mr. Manlius's oratory, and interestingly upon Nicholas.
"Shall I call Eunice down, S'prian?" said she, when her husband
concluded, and conveying some mysterious information to him by means of
private signals.
"We have here," said Mr. Manlius, now turning the hose of his eloquence
toward Nicholas, and playing upon him, "we have here a dear friend, who
has abode in our house for many years. She came to us when she was in
trouble, and here has she found a resting-place for the soles of her
feet. Sir," with a darksome glance, "her relations had forgotten her."
"I must say"----interrupted Nicholas; but Mr. Manlius waved him back,
and continued:--
"But she found true kinsfolk in the friends of her early days. We have
cared for her tenderly, and now at last we have our reward in consigning
her to the willing hands of a young scion of her house. She was Eunice
Brown; she had a sister who married a Judge, as I have often heard her
say; and she herself married Mr. Archibald Starkey, who is now no more.
Caroline, I will call Eunice"; and Mr. Manlius went heavily out of the
room.
Nicholas was very much agitated, and Mrs. Manlius very much excited,
over this sudden turn of affairs.
"Eunice has lived with us fifteen years, come February; and she has been
one of the family, coming in and going out like the rest of us. I found
her on the doorstep one night, and wasn't going to bring her in at
first, because, you see, I didn't know what she might be; when, lo and
behold! she looked up, and said I, 'Eunice Brown!' 'Yes,' said she, and
said she was cold and hungry; and I brought her in, and told Mr.
Manlius, and he came and talked with her, and said he, 'Caroline, there
is character in that woman'; for, Mr. Judge, Mr. Manlius can read
character in a person wonderfully; he has a real gift that way; and,
indeed, he needs it in his profession; and, as I tell him, he was born
an intelligence-officer."
Thus, and with more in the same strain, did Mrs. Manlius give vent to
her feelings, though hardly in the ear of Nicholas, who paced the room
in restless expectation of his aunt's approach. He heard enough to give
a turn to his thoughts; and it was with unaffected sorrow that he
reflected how the lonely woman had been dependent upon the charity, as
it seemed, of others. He saw in her now no longer merely the motherly
aunt who was to welcome him, but one whom he should care for, and take
under his protection. He heard steps in the entry, and easily detected
the ponderous tread of Mr. Manlius, who now opened the door, and
reappeared in more careful toilet, since he was furbished and smoothed
by the addition of proper touches, until he had quite the air of a man
of society. He entered the room with great pomp and ceremony all by
himself, and met Nicholas's disappointed look by saying, slowly,--
"Mrs. Starkey, your beloved aunt, will appear presently"; and throwing a
look about the room, as if he would call the attention of all the people
in the dress-circle, boxes, and amphitheatre, he continued--"I have
intimated to your aunt the nature of your relationship, and I need not
say that she is quite agitated at the prospective meeting. She is a
woman"----
But Mr. Manlius's flow was suddenly turned off by the appearance of Mrs.
Starkey herself. The introduction, too, which, as manager of this little
scene, he had rehearsed to himself, was rendered unnecessary by the
prompt action of Nicholas, who hastened forward, with tumultuous
feelings, to greet his aunt. His honest nature had no sceptical reserve;
and he saluted her affectionately, before the light of the feeble lamp,
which seemed to have husbanded all its strength for this critical
moment, could disclose to him anything of the personal appearance of his
relative. At this moment the twinkling light, like a star at dawn, went
out; and Mrs. Manlius, rushing off, reappeared with an astral, which
turned the somewhat gloomy aspect of affairs into cheerful light.
Perhaps it was symbolic of a sunrise upon the world which enclosed
Nicholas and his aunt. Nicholas looked at Mrs. Starkey, who was indeed
flurried, and saw a pinched and meagre woman, the flower of whose youth
had long ago been pressed in the book of ill-fortune until it was
colorless and scentless. She found words presently, even before Nicholas
did; and sitting down with him in the encouraging presence of the
Manlii, she uttered her thoughts in an incoherent way:--
"Dear, dear! who would have said it? When Miss Pix came to invite us all
to her party, and said, 'Mrs. Starkey, I'm sure I hope you will come,' I
thought it might be too much for such a quiet body as I be. But that was
nothing to this. Why, if here I haven't got a real nephew; and, to be
sure, it's a great while since I saw your mother, but, I declare, you do
look just like her, and a Judge's son you are, too. Did they say you
looked like your father, Nickey? I was asking Caroline if she thought my
bombazine would do, after all; and now I do think I ought to wear my
India silk, and put on my pearl necklace, for I don't want my Nicky to
be ashamed of me. You'll go with us, won't you, nephew, to Miss Pix's? I
expect it's going to be a grand party; and I'll go round and introduce
you to all the great people; and how did you leave your father,
Nicholas?"
"Why, aunt, did not Mr. Manlius tell you that he was dead?" said
Nicholas. "Her memory's a little short," whispered Mrs. Manlius; but,
hardly interrupted by this little answer and whisper, Mrs. Starkey was
again plunging headlong into a current of words, and struggling among
the eddies of various subjects. Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Manlius, having,
as managers, set the little piece on the stage in good condition, were
carrying on a private undertoned conversation, which resulted in Mrs.
Manlius asking, in an engaging manner,--
"Eunice, dear, would you prefer to stay at home this evening with your
nephew? Because we will excuse you to Miss Pix, who would hardly expect
you."
Mrs. Starkey was in the midst of a voluble description of some private
jewelry which she intended to show the astonished Nicholas; but she
caught the last words, and veered round to Mrs. Manlius, saying,--
"Indeed, she expects me; and she expects Nicholas, too. She will be very
much gratified to see him, and I have no doubt she will give another
party for him; and if she does, I mean to invite my friend the alderman
to go. I shouldn't wonder if he was to be there to-night; and now I
think of it, it must be time to be going. Caroline, have you got your
things on?"
Mrs. Starkey spoke with a determination that suffered no opposition, so
that Nicholas and Mr. Manlius were left alone for a moment, while the
two women should wrap themselves up.
"Your aunt is unduly excited, Mr. Judge," said the intelligence-officer;
"and it was for that reason that I advised she should not go. She has
hardly been herself the last day or two. Our neighbor, Miss Pix,--a
woman whose character is somewhat unsettled; no fixed principles. Sir, I
fear," shaking his head regretfully; "too erratic, controlled by
impulse, possessing an inquisitive temperament," telling off upon a
separate finger each count in the charges against Miss Pix's character,
and reserving for the thumb the final overwhelming accusation,--"Sir,
she has not learned the great French economical principle of Lassy
Fair." Miss Pix being thus stricken down, he helped her up again with an
apology. "But her advantages have no doubt been few. She has not studied
political economy; and how can she hope to walk unerringly?"--and Mr.
Manlius gazed at an imaginary Miss Pix wandering without compass or
guide over the desert of life. "She makes a party to-night. And why?
Because it is Christmas-eve. That is a small foundation, Mr. Judge, on
which to erect the structure of social intercourse. Society, Sir, should
be founded on principles, not accidents. Because my house is
accidentally contiguous to two others, shall I consider myself, and
shall Mrs. Manlius consider herself, as necessarily bound by the
ligaments of Nature--by the ligaments of Nature, Mr. Judge,--to the
dwellers in those houses? No, Sir. I don't know who lives in this court
beside Miss Pix. Nature brought your aunt and Mrs. Manlius together, and
Nature brought you and your aunt together. We will go, however, to Miss
Pix's. It will gratify her. But your aunt is excited about the, for her,
unusual occasion. And now she has seen you. I feared this interview
might overcome her. She is frail; but she is fair, Sir, if I may say so.
She has character; very few have as much,--and I have seen many women.
Did you ever happen to see Martha Jewmer, Mr. Judge?"
Nicholas could not remember that he had.
"Well, Sir, that woman has been in my office twelve times. I got a place
for her each time. And why? Because she has character"; and Mr. Manlius
leaned back to get a full view of character. Before he had satisfied
himself enough to continue his reminiscences, his wife and Mrs. Starkey
returned, bundled up as if they were going on a long sleigh-ride.
"We're ready, S'prian," said Mrs. Manlius. "Eunice thinks she will go
still,"--which was evident from the manner in which Mrs. Starkey had
gathered about her a quantity of ill-assorted wrappers, out of the folds
of which she delivered herself to each and all in a rapid and disjointed
manner; and the party proceeded out of the house, Mrs. Manlius first
shutting and opening various doors, according to some intricate system
of ventilation and heating.
Nicholas gave his arm to his aunt, and, though anxious to speak of many
things, could hardly slip a word into the crevices of her conversation;
nor then did his questions or answers bring much satisfactory response.
He was confused with various thoughts, unable to explain the random talk
of his companion, and yet getting such glimpses of the dreary life she
had led as made him resolve to give her a home that should admit more
sunshine into her daily experience.