There is no moment in the life of man, when he is so keenly sensitive
on the subject of the perfection of his mistress, as that in which he
completely admits her power. All his jealousy is actively alive to the
smallest shade of fault, although his feelings so much indispose him to
see any blemish. Betts Shoreham felt an unpleasant pang, even--yes, it
amounted to a pang--for in a few moments he would have offered his
hand--and men cannot receive any drawback with indifference at such an
instant--he felt an unpleasant pang, then, as the idea crossed his mind
that Mademoiselle Hennequin could be so violently affected by a feeling
as unworthy as that of envy. He had passed several years abroad, and
had got the common notion about the selfishness of the French, and more
particularly their women, and his prejudices took the alarm. But his
love was much the strongest, and soon looked down the distrust, however
reasonable, under the circumstances, the latter might have appeared to
a disinterested and cool-headed observer. He had seen so much meek and
pure-spirited self-denial; so much high principle in the conduct of
Mademoiselle Hennequin, during an intimacy which had now lasted six
months, that no passing feeling of doubt, like the one just felt, could
unsettle the confidence created by her virtues. I know it may take more
credit than belongs to most pocket-handkerchiefs, to maintain the
problem of the virtues of a French governess--a class of unfortunate
persons that seem doomed to condemnation by all the sages of our modern
imaginative literature. An English governess, or even an American
governess, if, indeed, there be such a being in nature, may be every
thing that is respectable, and prudent, and wise, and good; but the
French governess has a sort of ex-officio moral taint about her, that
throws her without the pale of literary charities. Nevertheless, one or
two of the most excellent women I have ever known, have been French
governesses, though I do not choose to reveal what this particular
individual of the class turned out to be in the end, until the moment
for the denouement of her character shall regularly arrive.
There was not much time for Betts Shoreham to philosophize, and
speculate on female caprices and motives, John Monson making his
appearance in as high evening dress as well comported with what is
called "republican simplicity." John was a fine looking fellow, six
feet and an inch, with large whiskers, a bushy head of hair, and
particularly white teeth. His friend was two inches shorter, of much
less showy appearance, but of a more intellectual countenance, and of
juster proportions. Most persons, at first sight, would praise John
Monson's person and face, but all would feel the superiority of Betts
Shoreham's, on an acquaintance. The smile of the latter, in particular,
was as winning and amiable as that of a girl. It was that smile, on the
one hand, and his active, never dormant sympathy for her situation, on
the other, which, united, had made such an inroad on the young
governess's affections.
"It's deuced cold, Betts," said John, as he came near the fire; "this
delightful country of ours has some confounded hard winters. I wonder
if it be patriotic to say, OUR winters?"
"It's all common property, Monson--but, what have become of your sister
and Mademoiselle Hennequin? They were both here a minute since, and
have vanished like--"
"What?--ghosts!--no, you dare not call them THAT, lest their spirits
take it in dudgeon. Julie is no ghost, though she is sometimes so
delicate and ethereal, and as for Henny--"
"Who?" exclaimed Betts, doubting if his ears were true.
"Henny, Tote and Moll's governess. Whom do you think I could mean,
else? I always call her Henny, en famille, and I look upon you as
almost one of us since our travels."
{en famille = at home}
"I'm sure I can scarcely be grateful enough, my dear fellow--but, you
do not call her so to her face?"
"Why--no--perhaps not exactly in her very teeth--and beautiful teeth
she has, Betts--Julie's won't compare with them."
"Miss Monson has fine teeth, notwithstanding. Perhaps Mademoiselle
Hennequin--"
"Yes, Henny has the best teeth of any girl I know. They are none of
your pearls--some pearls are yellowish, you know--but they are teeth;
just what ought to be in a handsome girl's mouth. I have no objection
to pearls in a necklace, or in the pockets, but TEETH are what are
wanted in a mouth, and Henny has just the finest set I know of."
Betts Shoreham fidgetted at the "Henny," and he had the weakness, at
the moment, to wish the young governess were not in a situation to be
spoken of so unceremoniously. He had not time to express this feeling,
before John Monson got a glimpse of me, and had me under examination
beneath the light of a very powerful lamp. I declare that, knowing his
aversion to our species, I felt a glow in all my system at the
liberties he was taking.
"What have we here?" exclaimed John Monson, in surprise; "has Miss
Flowergarden made a call, and is this her card?"
"I believe that pocket-handkerchief belongs to your sister," answered
Betts, drily, "if that be what you mean."
"Jule! well, I am sorry to hear it. I did hope that no sister of MINE
would run into any such foolish extravagance--do you own it, Jule?" who
entered the room at that instant--"is this bit of a rag yours, or is it
not more likely to be Henny's?"
"Bit of a rag!" cried the sister, snatching me dexterously out of the
spoiler's hands; "and 'Henny,' too! This is not a bit of a rag, sir,
but a very pretty pocket-handkerchief, and you must very well know that
Mademoiselle Hennequin is not likely to be the owner of any thing as
costly."
"And what did it cost, pray? At least tell me THAT, if nothing else."
"I shall not gratify your curiosity, sir--a lady's wardrobe is not to
be dissected in this manner."
"Pray, sir, may I ask," Mr. Monson now coming in, "did you pay for
Jule's handkerchief? Hang me, if I ever saw a more vulgar thing in my
life."
"The opinion is not likely to induce me to say yes," answered the
father, half-laughing, and yet half-angry at his son's making such
allusions before Betts--"never mind him, my dear; the handkerchief is
not half as expensive as his own cigars."
"It shall be as thoroughly smoked, nevertheless," rejoined John, who
was as near being spoilt, and escaping, as was at all necessary. "Ah,
Julie, Julie, I'm ashamed of thee."
This was an inauspicious commencement for an evening from which so much
happiness had been anticipated, but Mrs. Monson coming down, and the
carriages driving to the door, Mademoiselle Hennequin was summoned, and
the whole party left the house.
As a matter of course, it was a little out of the common way that the
governess was asked to make one, in the invitations given to the
Monsons. But Mademoiselle Hennequin was a person of such perfect bon
ton, had so thoroughly the manners of a lady, and was generally reputed
so accomplished, that most of the friends of the family felt themselves
bound to notice her. There was another reason, too, which justice
requires I should relate, though it is not so creditable to the young
lady, as those already given. From some quarter, or other, a rumor had
got abroad that Miss Monson's governess was of a noble family, a
circumstance that I soon discovered had great influence in New York,
doubtless by way of expiation for the rigid democratical notions that
so universally pervade its society. And here I may remark, en passant,
that while nothing is considered so disreputable in America as to be
"aristocratic" a word of very extensive signification, as it embraces
the tastes, the opinions, the habits, the virtues, and sometimes the
religion of the offending party--on the other hand, nothing is so
certain to attract attention as nobility. How many poor Poles have I
seen dragged about and made lions of, merely because they were reputed
noble, though the distinction in that country is pretty much the same
as that which exists in one portion of this great republic, where one
half the population is white, and the other black; the former making
the noble, and the latter the serf.
{make one = be included; bon ton = superior manners and culture; notice
her = include her socially; "aristocratic" = Cooper was hypersensitive
to accusations of being "aristocratic"; poor Poles = since his days in
Paris in the early 1830s, Cooper had befriended and aided Poles fleeing
Russian domination of their homeland}
"What an exceedingly aristocratic pocket-handkerchief Miss Monson has
this evening," observed Mrs. G. to Mr. W., as we passed into Mrs.
Leamington's rooms, that evening; "I don't know when I've seen any
thing so aristocratic in society."
"The Monsons are very aristocratic in all things; I understand they
dine at six."
"Yes," put in Miss F., "and use finger bowls every day."
"How aristocratic!"
"Very--they even say that since they have come back from Europe, the
last time, matters are pushed farther than ever. The ladies insist on
kneeling at prayers, instead of inclining, like all the rest of the
world."
"Did one ever hear of any thing so aristocratic!"
"They DO say, but I will not vouch for its truth, that Mr. and Mrs.
Monson insist on all their children calling them 'father' and 'mother,'
instead of 'pa' and 'ma.'"
"Why, Mr. W., that is downright monarchical, is it not?"
"It's difficult to say what is, and what is not monarchical,
now-a-days; though I think one is pretty safe in pronouncing it
anti-republican."
"It is patriarchal, rather," observed a wit, who belonged to the group.
Into this "aristocratical" set I was now regularly introduced. Many
longing and curious eyes were drawn toward me, though the company in
this house was generally too well bred to criticise articles of dress
very closely. Still, in every country, aristocracy, monarchy, or
democracy, there are privileged classes, and in all companies
privileged persons. One of the latter took the liberty of asking Julia
to leave me in her keeping, while the other danced, and I was thus
temporarily transferred to a circle, in which several other
pocket-handkerchiefs had been collected, with a view to compare our
several merits and demerits. The reader will judge of my surprise,
when, the examination being ended, and the judgment being rendered
altogether in my favor, I found myself familiarly addressed by the name
that I bore in the family circle, or, as No. 7; for
pocket-handkerchiefs never speak to each other except on the principle
of decimals. It was No. 12, or my relative of the extreme cote gauche,
who had strangely enough found his way into this very room, and was now
lying cheek by jowl with me again, in old Mrs. Eyelet's lap. Family
affection made us glad to meet, and we had a hundred questions to put
to each other in a breath.
{cote gauche = left wing, politically}
No. 12 had commenced life a violent republican, and this simply because
he read nothing but republican newspapers; a sufficiently simple
reason, as all know who have heard both sides of any question. Shortly
after I was purchased by poor, dear Adrienne, a young American traveler
had stepped into the magasin, and with the recklessness that
distinguishes the expenditures of his countrymen, swept off half a
dozen of the family at one purchase. Accident gave him the liberal end
of the piece, a circumstance to which he never would have assented had
he known the fact, for being an attache of the legation of his own
country, he was ex officio aristocratic. My brother amused me
exceedingly with his account of the indignation he felt at finding
himself in a very hot-bed of monarchical opinions, in the set at the
American legation. What rendered these diplomates so much the more
aristocratic, was the novelty of the thing, scarcely one of them having
been accustomed to society at home. After passing a few months in such
company, my brother's boss, who was a mere traveling diplomatist, came
home and began to run a brilliant career in the circles of New York, on
the faith of a European reputation. Alas! there is in
pocket-handkerchief nature a disposition to act by contraries. The
"more you call, the more I won't come" principle was active in poor No.
12's mind, and he had not been a month in New York society, before he
came out an ultra monarchist. New York society has more than one of
these sudden political conversions to answer for. It is such a thorough
development of the democratic principle, that the faith of few
believers is found strong enough to withstand it. Every body knows how
much a prospect varies by position. Thus, you shall stand on the
aristocratic side of a room filled with company, and every thing will
present a vulgar and democratic appearance; or, vice versa, you shall
occupy a place among the oi polloi, and all is aristocratic, exclusive,
and offensive. So it had proved with my unfortunate kinsman. All his
notions had changed; instead of finding the perfection he had preached
and extolled so long, he found nothing to admire, and every thing to
condemn. In a word, never was a pocket-handkerchief so miserable, and
that, too, on grounds so philosophical and profound, met with, on its
entrance into active life. I do believe, if my brother could have got
back to France, he would have written a book on America, which, while
it overlooked many vices and foibles that deserve to be cut up without
mercy, would have thrown even de Tocqueville into the shade in the way
of political blunders. But I forbear; this latter writer being
unanswerable among those neophytes who having never thought of their
own system, unless as Englishmen, are overwhelmed with admiration at
finding any thing of another character advanced about it. At least,
such are the sentiments entertained by a very high priced
pocket-handkerchief.
{magasin = shop; ex-officio = by virtue of his position--Cooper
frequently criticized American diplomats for taking on the conservative
views of the monarchial governments to which they were accredited; oi
polloi = common people, rabble (Greek); de Tocqueville = Alexis de
Tocqueville = French writer (1805-1859), famous for his account of
American culture, "Democracy in America" (1835 and 1840)--Cooper had
provided Tocqueville with letters of introduction for his 1832 American
visit, but resented the extreme admiration accorded his book}
Mademoiselle Hennequin, I took occasion to remark, occupied much of the
attention of Betts Shoreham, at Mrs. Leamington's ball. They understood
each other perfectly, though the young man could not get over the
feeling created by the governess's manner when she first met with me.
Throughout the evening, indeed, her eye seemed studiously averted from
me, as if she struggled to suppress certain sentiments or sensations,
that she was unwilling to betray. Now, these sentiments, if sentiments
they were, or sensations, as they were beyond all dispute, might be
envy--repinings at another's better fortunes--or they might be excited
by philosophical and commendable reflections touching those follies
which so often lead the young and thoughtless into extravagance. Betts
tried hard to believe them the last, though, in his inmost heart, he
would a thousand times rather that the woman he loved should smile on a
weakness of this sort, in a girl of her own age, than that she should
show herself to be prematurely wise, if it was wisdom purchased at the
expense of the light-heartedness and sympathies of her years and sex.
On a diminished scale, I had awakened in his bosom some such uneasy
distrust as the pocket-handkerchief of Desdemona is known to have
aroused in that of the Moor.
{Shakespeare, "Othello"}
Nor can I say that Julia Monson enjoyed herself as much as she had
anticipated. Love she did not Betts Shoreham; for that was a passion
her temperament and training induced her to wait for some pretty
unequivocal demonstrations on the part of the gentleman before she
yielded to it; but she LIKED him vastly, and nothing would have been
easier than to have blown this smouldering preference into a flame. She
was too young, and, to say the truth, too natural and uncalculating, to
be always remembering that Betts owned a good old-fashioned landed
estate that was said to produce twenty, and which did actually produce
eleven thousand a year, nett; and that his house in the country was
generally said to be one of the very best in the state. For all this
she cared absolutely nothing, or nothing worth mentioning. There were
enough young men of as good estates, and there were a vast many of no
estates at all, ready and willing to take their chances in the "cutting
up" of "old Monson," but there were few who were as agreeable, as well
mannered, as handsome, or who had seen as much of the world, as Betts
Shoreham. Of course, she had never fancied the young man in love with
herself, but, previously to the impression she had quite recently
imbibed of his attachment to her mother's governess, she had been
accustomed to think such a thing MIGHT come to pass, and that she
should not be sorry if it did.
I very well understand this is not the fashionable, or possibly the
polite way of describing those incipient sentiments which form the germ
of love in the virgin affections of young ladies, and that a skillful
and refined poet would use very different language on the occasion; but
I began this history to represent things as they are, and such is the
manner in which "Love's Young Dream" appears to a pocket-handkerchief.
{"Love's Young Dream" = popular poem by Thomas Moore (1780-1852)}
Among other things that were unpleasant, Miss Monson was compelled to
overhear sundry remarks of Betts's devotion to the governess, as she
stood in the dance, some of which reached me, also.
"Who is the lady to whom Mr. Shoreham is so devoue this evening?" asked
Miss N. of Miss T. "'Tis quite a new face, and, if one might be so
presuming, quite a new manner."
{devoue = devoted, attentive}
"That is Mademoiselle Henny, the governess of Mrs. Monson's children,
my dear. They say she is all accomplishments, and quite a miracle of
propriety. It is also rumored that she is, some way, a very
distinguished person, reduced by those horrid revolutions of which they
have so many in Europe."
"Noble, I dare say!"
"Oh! that at least. Some persons affirm that she is semi-ROYAL. The
country is full of broken-down royalty and nobility. Do you think she
has an aristocratic air?"
"Not in the least--her ears are too small."
"Why, my dear, that is the very symbol of nobility! When my Aunt
Harding was in Naples, she knew the Duke of Montecarbana, intimately;
and she says he had the smallest ears she ever beheld on a human being.
The Montecarbanas are a family as old as the ruins of Paestum, they
say."
{Paestum = ancient Roman city outside Naples}
"Well, to my notion, nobility and teaching little girls French and
Italian, and their gammes, have very little in common. I had thought
Mr. Shoreham an admirer of Miss Monson's."
{gammes = musical scales}
Now, unfortunately, my mistress overheard this remark. Her feelings
were just in that agitated state to take the alarm, and she determined
to flirt with a young man of the name of Thurston, with a view to
awaken Betts's jealousy, if he had any, and to give vent to her own
spleen. This Tom Thurston was one of those tall, good-looking young
fellows who come from, nobody knows where, get into society, nobody
knows how, and live on, nobody knows what. It was pretty generally
understood that he was on the look-out for a rich wife, and
encouragement from Julia Monson was not likely to be disregarded by
such a person. To own the truth, my mistress carried matters much too
far--so far, indeed, as to attract attention from every body but those
most concerned; viz. her own mother and Betts Shoreham. Although
elderly ladies play cards very little, just now, in American society,
or, indeed, in any other, they have their inducements for rendering the
well-known office of matron at a ball, a mere sinecure. Mrs. Monson,
too, was an indulgent mother, and seldom saw any thing very wrong in
her own children. Julia, in the main, had sufficient retenue, and a
suspicion of her want of discretion on this point, was one of the last
things that would cross the fond parent's mind at Mrs. Leamington's
ball. Others, however, were less confiding.
{retenue = discretion}
"Your daughter is in HIGH SPIRITS to-night," observed a single lady of
a certain age, who was sitting near Mrs. Monson; "I do not remember to
have ever seen her so GAY."
"Yes, dear girl, she IS happy,"--poor Julia was any thing but THAT,
just then--"but youth is the time for happiness, if it is ever to come
in this life."
"Is Miss Monson addicted to such VERY high spirits?" continued one, who
was resolute to torment, and vexed that the mother could not be
sufficiently alarmed to look around.
"Always--when in agreeable company. I think it a great happiness,
ma'am, to possess good spirits."
"No doubt--yet one needn't be always fifteen, as Lady Wortley Montague
said," muttered the other, giving up the point, and changing her seat,
in order that she might speak her mind more freely into the ear of a
congenial spirit.
{Lady Wortley Montague = Lady Mary Wortley Montague (1689-1762),
English essayist and letter-writer}
Half an hour later we were all in the carriages, again, on our way
home; all, but Betts Shoreham, I should say, for having seen the ladies
cloaked, he had taken his leave at Mrs. Leamington's door, as uncertain
as ever whether or not to impute envy to a being who, in all other
respects, seemed to him to be faultless. He had to retire to an uneasy
pillow, undetermined whether to pursue his original intention of making
the poor friendless French girl independent, by an offer of his hand,
or whether to decide that her amiable and gentle qualities were all
seeming, and that she was not what she appeared to be. Betts Shoreham
owed his distrust to national prejudice, and well was he paid for
entertaining so vile a companion. Had Mademoiselle Hennequin been an
American girl, he would not have thought a second time of the emotion
she had betrayed in regarding my beauties; but he had been taught to
believe all French women managing and hypocritical; a notion that the
experience of a young man in Paris would not be very likely to destroy.
{managing = manipulative}
"Well," cried John Monson, as the carriage drew from Mrs. Leamington's
door, "this is the last ball I shall go to in New York;" which
declaration he repeated twenty times that season, and as often broke.
"What is the matter now, Jack?" demanded the father. "I found it very
pleasant--six or seven of us old fellows made a very agreeable evening
of it."
"Yes, I dare say, sir; but you were not compelled to dance in a room
eighteen by twenty-four, with a hundred people treading on your toes,
or brushing their heads in your face."
"Jack can find no room for dancing since the great ball of the Salle de
l'Opera, at Paris," observed the mother smiling. "I hope YOU enjoyed
yourself better, Julia?"
{Salle de l'Opera = Paris Opera House--the building referred to by
Cooper served as Opera House from 1821-1873 and was replaced by the
present building in 1874}
My mistress started; then she answered with a sort of hysterical glee--
"Oh! I have found the evening delightful, ma'am. I could have remained
two hours longer."
"And you, Mademoiselle Hennequin; I hope you, too, were agreeably
entertained?"
The governess answered meekly, and with a slight tremor in her voice.
"Certainly, madame," she said, "I have enjoyed myself; though dancing
always seems an amusement I have no right to share in."
There was some little embarrassment, and I could perceive an impulse in
Julia to press nearer to her rival, as if impelled by a generous wish
to manifest her sympathy. But Tom's protest soon silenced every thing
else, and we alighted, and soon went to rest.
The next morning Julia sent for me down to be exhibited to one or two
friends, my fame having spread in consequence of my late appearance. I
was praised, kissed, called a pretty dear, and extolled like a spoiled
child, though Miss W. did not fail to carry the intelligence, far and
near, that Miss Monson's much-talked-of pocket-handkerchief was nothing
after all but the THING Miss Halfacre had brought out the night of the
day her father had stopped payment. Some even began to nick-name me the
insolvent pocket-handkerchief.
I thought Julia sad, after her friends had all left her. I lay
neglected on a sofa, and the pretty girl's brow became thoughtful. Of a
sudden she was aroused from a brown study--reflective mood, perhaps,
would be a more select phrase--by the unexpected appearance of young
Thurston. There was a sort of "Ah! have I caught you alone!" expression
about this adventurer's eye, even while he was making his bow, that
struck me. I looked for great events, nor was I altogether
disappointed. In one minute he was seated at Julia's side, on the same
sofa, and within two feet of her; in two more he had brought in play
his usual tricks of flattery. My mistress listened languidly, and yet
not altogether without interest. She was piqued at Betts Shoreham's
indifference, had known her present admirer several months, if dancing
in the same set can be called KNOWING, and had never been made love to
before, at least in a manner so direct and unequivocal. The young man
had tact enough to discover that he had an advantage, and fearful that
some one might come in and interrupt the tete a tete, he magnanimously
resolved to throw all on a single cast, and come to the point at once.
"I think, Miss Monson," he continued, after a very beautiful specimen
of rigmarole in the way of love-making, a rigmarole that might have
very fairly figured in an editor's law and logic, after he had been
beaten in a libel suit, "I think, Miss Monson, you cannot have
overlooked the VERY particular attentions I have endeavored to pay you,
ever since I have been so fortunate as to have made your acquaintance?"
"I!--Upon my word, Mr. Thurston, I am not at all conscious of having
been the object of any such attentions!"
"No?--That is ever the way with the innocent and single-minded! This is
what we sincere and diffident men have to contend with in affairs of
the heart. Our bosoms may be torn with ten thousand distracting cares,
and yet the modesty of a truly virtuous female heart shall be so
absorbed in its own placid serenity as to be indifferent to the pangs
it is unconsciously inflicting!"
"Mr. Thurston, your language is strong--and--a little--a little
unintelligible."
"I dare say--ma'am--I never expect to be intelligible again. When the
'heart is oppressed with unutterable anguish, condemned to conceal that
passion which is at once the torment and delight of life'--when 'his
lip, the ruby harbinger of joy, lies pale and cold, the miserable
appendage of a mang--' that is, Miss Monson, I mean to say, when all
our faculties are engrossed by one dear object we are often incoherent
and mysterious, as a matter of course."
Tom Thurston came very near wrecking himself on the quicksands of the
romantic school. He had begun to quote from a speech delivered by
Gouverneur Morris, on the right of deposit at New Orleans, and which he
had spoken at college, and was near getting into a part of the subject
that might not have been so apposite, but retreated in time. By way of
climax, the lover laid his hand on me, and raised me to his eyes in an
abstracted manner, as if unconscious of what he was doing, and wanted
to brush away a tear.
{Gouverneur Morris = American Federalist leader and diplomat
(1752-1816)--a 1795 American treaty with Spain granted the United
States the right of navigation on the Mississippi River and to deposit
goods at New Orleans without paying customs duties}
"What a confounded rich old fellow the father must be," thought Tom,
"to give her such pocket-handkerchiefs!"
I felt like a wren that escapes from the hawk when the rogue laid me
down.
Alas! Poor Julia was the dupe of all this acting. Totally unpracticed
herself, abandoned by the usages of the society in which she had been
educated very much to the artifices of any fortune-hunter, and vexed
with Betts Shoreham, she was in the worst possible frame of mind to
resist such eloquence and love. She had seen Tom at all the balls in
the best houses, found no fault with his exterior and manners, both of
which were fashionable and showy, and now discovered that he had a most
sympathetic heart, over which, unknown to herself, she had obtained a
very unlimited control.
"You do not answer me, Miss Monson," continued Tom peeping out at one
side of me, for I was still at his eyes--"you do not answer me, cruel,
inexorable girl!"
"What WOULD you have me say, Mr. Thurston?"
"Say YES, dearest, loveliest, most perfect being of the whole human
family."
"YES, then; if that will relieve your mind, it is a relief very easily
bestowed."
Now, Tom Thurston was as skilled in a fortune-hunter's wiles as
Napoleon was in military strategy. He saw he had obtained an immense
advantage for the future, and he forbore to press the matter any
further at the moment. The "yes" had been uttered more in pleasantry
than with any other feeling, but, by holding it in reserve, presuming
on it gradually, and using it in a crisis, it might be worth--"let me
see," calculated Tom, as he went whistling down Broadway, "that 'yes'
may be made to yield at least a cool $100,000. There are John, this
girl, and two little ones. Old Monson is worth every dollar of
$700,000--none of your skyrockets, but a known, old fortune, in
substantial houses and lands--let us suppose the old woman outlive him,
and that she gets her full thirds; THAT will leave $466,660. Perhaps
John may get a couple of hundred thousand, and even THEN each of the
girls will have $88,888. If one of the little things should happen to
die, and there's lots of scarlet fever about, why that would fetch it
up at once to a round hundred thousand. I don't think the old woman
would be likely to marry again at her time of life. One mustn't
calculate too confidently on THAT, however, as I would have her myself
for half of SUCH thirds."
{full thirds = Old Monson's widow would under American common law
receive a life interest in one-third of his real property, called a
dower right, which would revert to his children if she died without
remarrying.}