HOW THEY LIVED AT MILLBANK.
Mrs. Walter Scott knew nothing of the hundred thousand dollars settled
upon Bell, or of the arrangement for the entire family to live
henceforth at Millbank. She was well pleased, however, to have Judge
Burleigh and Grace and Charlie there for a few days, with other guests
from Boston and New York. They were a part of the wedding festivities,
and she enjoyed the _éclat_ of having so many young people of style and
distinction in the house, and enjoyed showing them off at church and in
the street. She enjoyed the grand dinners, too, which occupied three
hours and for which the ladies dressed so elaborately, the bride wearing
something new each day, and astonishing the servants with the length of
her train and the size of her hoops, and she enjoyed for a time the
dance and the song, and hilarity in the evening, but she began at last
to grow weary of it all, and to sigh for a little quiet; and greatly to
Frank’s surprise and Bell’s delight, she gave up the trip to Saratoga,
and saw the bridal party depart without her one morning a few days after
the party.
The United States was their destination, and the town was soon teeming
with gossip of the bride who sported so exquisite jewelry and wore so
magnificent dresses and snubbed her husband so mercilessly. Frank’s
turn-out, too, was commented on and admired, and he had the satisfaction
of knowing that his carriage and his horses were the finest in town; but
for any genuine domestic happiness he enjoyed, he might as well have
been without a wife as with one.
One day Bell expressed a desire for a glass of water from the spring on
the grounds of the Clarendon, and as she knew she was exquisitely
dressed, and sure to create a sensation all along the street, she
started with Grace and her husband for the spring. The Clarendon was not
full, though it had the reputation of entertaining the very _crème de la
crème_, those who preferred cool shades, and pure air and fresh
furniture and quiet, to the glare and crowd and heat and fashion farther
down town. There were but few on the broad piazza that afternoon, but at
these Bell looked curiously, especially at the two young ladies who were
standing with their backs to her, and whom she at once decided to be
somebody. Both wore deep mourning, and one was fair with chestnut hair,
while the braids of the other were dark and glossy and abundant. A
white-haired man and middle-aged woman were sitting near them, and a
tall, fine-looking young man was standing by the shorter of the young
ladies, and evidently describing something which greatly interested all,
for peals of laughter were occasionally heard as the story proceeded,
and the girl with the chestnut hair turned her head a little more toward
Bell, and also toward Frank. There was a violent start on his part, and
then he suggested that they return to their hotel. But Bell insisted
upon going up the hill and occupying some vacant chairs upon the piazza.
She was tired, and it looked so cool and pleasant there, she said in
that tone of voice which Frank always obeyed, and with a beating heart
he gave her his arm and led her up the steep bank and put her in her
chair and brought another for Grace, and fidgeted about and managed to
keep his back toward the group which he knew was watching him. The hum
of their voices had ceased as he drew near with his magnificent bride,
who in her diamonds and costly array presented so striking a contrast to
the two plainly-dressed young ladies, whom Bell thought so beautiful,
wondering greatly who they were. Frank _knew_ who they were, and stood
an awkward moment and tried not to see them; then with a great gulp, in
which he forced down far more emotion than his wife ever gave him credit
for possessing, he turned toward them, accidentally as it seemed, and
uttering a well-feigned exclamation of surprise went forward to meet
Alice Grey and Magdalen.
“Speak of angels and you hear the rustle of their wings,” Guy said, when
the first words of greeting were over. “I was talking of you, or rather
of Mrs. Irving, whom I saw at the hop last night, and whose beauty and
dress I was describing to these rustic country girls.”
“Oh, yes, certainly. I should like to present my wife to you,” Frank
said, his spirits rising as they always did when his wife was
complimented.
He was proud of her, and if she allowed it, would have been fond of her,
too; and he felt a thrill of satisfaction and pleasure that she was
looking so well and bore herself so regally as he led her to his friends
and introduced her as “My wife, Mrs. Irving.”
Bell had heard of the Greys and knew that Alice and Magdalen were fully
her equals, and her manner was very soft and gracious towards them as
she expressed her pleasure in meeting them. Frank brought her chair for
her and placed it between Alice and Magdalen, and held her parasol, and
leaned over her, and admired her so much as almost to forget the
circumstances under which, he had last seen Magdalen. Bell was very
lady-like, very gentle, and very bright and witty withal, and the Greys
were perfectly charmed with her, and wondered how she could have married
Frank, who in point of intellect was so greatly her inferior.
For two or three weeks the Greys remained at Saratoga, and during that
time they saw a great deal of the Irvings, while between Bell and the
Misses Grey there sprang up a strong liking, which was very strange,
considering how unlike they were in almost everything. Once Frank spoke
to Magdalen of Roger, who, he said, was getting on famously, both as to
money and reputation.
“Why don’t you two marry?” he asked abruptly. “You ought to. There’s
nothing in the way that I can see.”
Ere Magdalen could reply, they were joined by Alice, but Frank had
detected that in her manner which convinced him that her love for Roger
was unchanged.
“Then why the plague don’t they marry?” he said to himself. “It’s
Roger’s fault, I know. He’s afraid she is not willing. I mean to write
and tell him she is. I owe them both something, and that’s the way I’ll
pay it;” and that afternoon Frank did commence a letter to Roger, but he
never finished it, for dinner came on, and after it a drive, and then a
letter from his mother urging his immediate return, as the hands at the
mill were conducting badly, many of them leaving to go to Schodick, and
others taking advantage of his absence, and a drunken overseer.
Accordingly, the bridal pair went back to Millbank, and Grace was with
them, and Charlie too; while Mr. Burleigh, who had been disposing of his
affairs in Boston, came in a few days, and Mrs. Walter Scott heard Mrs.
Franklin tell the servant to see that everything was in order in “Judge
Burleigh’s room; you know which it is, the one at the end of the hall,
adjoining Charlie’s.”
This looked as if there was an understanding between Mrs. Franklin and
Katy with regard to rooms, while the quantity of baggage which came from
the depot in the express wagon looked very much as if the Burleighs had
come for good, with no intention of leaving. This was a condition of
things of which Mrs. Walter Scott did not approve; but there was
something in the gleam of Mrs. Bell’s black eyes which warned her to be
careful what she said. She was a little afraid of Bell and so kept quiet
until she heard from her own maid that “the old gentleman” was putting
his books on the shelves, which, unknown to her, had been conveyed into
his room, and was arranging a lot of _stones_, and _snails_, and
_birds_. Then she could keep still no longer, but attacked her son with
the question:
“Are _all_ the Burleighs to live here in future? I did not suppose you
married the entire family.”
Frank had looked forward to a time when some such question would be
propounded to him, and was glad it had come. Once he had been afraid of
his mother, and he was still a good deal in awe of her and her opinions,
but upstairs was a lady whom he feared more, though she had never spoken
to him except in the mildest, softest manner, and he wisely resolved to
let his mother know the worst which had befallen her, and told her, as
gently as possible, and with the tone of one who was communicating a
piece of good news, that the Burleighs were a rather singular family,
very strongly attached to each other; yes, _very_ strongly attached,
that they never had been separated, and that Bell had accepted him only
on condition that they should not be separated, but live together at
Millbank as they had done at Boston.
There was intense scorn in Mrs. Walter Scott’s eyes, and in her voice,
as she said, “And so you have taken upon yourself the maintenance of
four instead of one!”
“Why, no,—not exactly,—that is,—Judge Burleigh and Charlie, and—yes, and
Charlie—”
Frank was getting matters somewhat confused, and did not quite know how
to make it clear to his mother’s mind that Charlie would only trouble
them till he was set up in business, and that Judge Burleigh’s society
and the pleasure of having so polished and agreeable a gentleman in the
house was a sufficient compensation for any expense he might be to them;
but she understood him at last, and knew that the Judge and Charlie were
there for good, and the rooms they occupied had been fitted up expressly
for them without a reference to her or her wishes in the matter. Had she
known of the hundred thousand made over to Bell she would have gone mad.
As it was, she flew into a towering passion, accusing Frank of being in
leading-strings and henpecked, and threatening to leave and go back to
New York, as she presumed he wished she would. Frank did not wish any
such thing. His mother was more necessary to him now than before his
marriage, for he was generally sure of her sympathy, which was more than
he could say of his wife. So he soothed and quieted her as best he
could, and when she referred to his recent loss by fire, and asked how
he could burden himself with so large a family, he told her a lie, and
said he should be able to recover a part of the insurance, and that even
if he did not, his income was sufficient to warrant his present style of
living, and she need have no fears for him; or if she had, he would
_settle_ something upon her at once, so that in case _he_ failed
entirely she would not be penniless. This was a happy thought, and Mrs.
Walter Scott consented to be mollified and let the Burleighs remain in
quiet in consideration of twenty-five thousand dollars in bonds and
mortgages and railroad stock which Frank agreed to give her, and which
he did convey that very day. She had at first asked for fifty thousand,
but had agreed to be satisfied with twenty-five, and Frank went to his
dinner a poorer man by over two hundred thousand dollars than he had
been when Millbank came into his possession. His wife’s settlement and
his mother’s, and his recent heavy expenditures, had drawn largely upon
his means for procuring ready money whenever he wanted it, and as he sat
at his table, loaded with silver and groaning with luxuries, he felt
almost as poor as he had done in days gone by, when he had not enough to
pay his tailor and furnish himself with cigars. And still he was rich in
lands, and the mill, and houses, and he tried to shake off his feelings
of despondency and to believe himself very happy with that beautiful
wife beside him, who let him pare her peach for her, and took grapes
from his own cluster, and playfully pushed the wine bottle aside when he
was about to help himself for a second time.
Mrs. Walter Scott was cold as an icicle, and not all the Judge’s suavity
of manner had power to thaw her. She had promised not to say anything
disagreeable to the Burleighs, but her face was very expressive of her
dislike, and she could hardly answer either the Judge or Charlie with
common civility. She did not object to Grace; and she was even guilty of
wishing Frank’s choice had fallen upon the younger rather than the elder
sister, against whom she could, as yet, bring no accusation, but whom
she distrusted and secretly feared. Bell thoroughly understood her
mother-in-law, and knew tolerably well how to manage her. As Frank’s
wife, _she_ was mistress of Millbank, and though she made no show of her
authority, her power was felt in everything; and after she had reigned a
month or more, not a servant, with the exception of Mrs. Walter Scott’s
own maid, went to their former mistress for orders, but received them
from the new lady, who was very popular with them, and who, to a certain
extent, was popular in town. She could not endure most of the people by
whom she was surrounded; but she had made up her mind that it was better
to be admired than hated, and she adopted the _rôle_ of Patroness, or
Lady Bountiful, and played her part well, as Frank knew by his purse, so
often drawn from when Bell and Grace had some poor family on their
hands.
Grace did not go back to school. Millbank was intolerable to the bride
without the presence of her light-hearted, merry little sister; and so
Grace stayed and studied at home, under a governess, to whom Frank paid
five hundred dollars a year; and paid it the more willingly when he
found that the pretty Miss North admired _him_ above all men, and was
not averse to receiving compliments from him, even in the presence of
his wife. Bell did not care how many governesses he complimented,
provided he did not say his soft nothings to her. Had he affected a
great fondness for her, and bored her with attentions and caresses, she
would have hated him, but he had sense enough to see that love-making
was not her style, and so he contented himself with being the possessor
of the beautiful and expensive article, which he knew better than to
handle or touch. She was always very polite and gracious towards him,
but after a few weeks he ceased to pet or caress her, and almost always
called her Mrs. Irving, and studied her wishes in everything, except in
the matter of horses and _Holt_; there he was his own master, and did as
he liked, and bought as many horses as he chose, and went to the races,
and bet largely, and made Holt his chief man of business, and gave him
money to expend on double teams and single teams, and trusted him
implicitly; and when people asked where Holt got his means to live as he
was living now, Frank had no suspicions whatever, but said, “Joe Holt
was a first-rate chap, the best judge and manager of horses he ever saw,
and ought to succeed in life.”
And so the autumn waned, and the Christmas holidays were kept at
Millbank on a grand scale, and young people were there from
Boston,—friends of Grace and friends of Bell,—and the festivities were
kept up sometimes till two or three o’clock in the morning, and some of
the young men became very noisy and unmanageable, and among them
Charlie, while Frank was undeniably _drunk_, and was carried to his room
and given into the care of his wife! Then Bell rose in her might, and
locked up the wine and sent the fast young men home, and gave Charlie a
lecture he never forgot, and made him join the Good Templars forthwith,
and what was better, made him keep the pledge. What she did to Frank
nobody knew,—locked him up, the servants said. At all events, he kept
his room for two days, and only came out of it after the New Yorkers
were gone to their respective homes. Then he looked very meek and
crestfallen, like a naughty boy who has been punished, and his mother
pitied him and tried to sympathize, and made him so very angry that he
was guilty of swearing at her, and bidding her let him and Bell and
their affairs alone. And Mrs. Walter Scott did let them alone for a
while, and stayed a great deal in her own room, and had her meals served
there, and took to writing a book, for which she always thought she had
a talent. It was about mismated people, and the good heroine looked very
much like Mrs. Walter Scott, and the bad one like Mrs. Franklin Irving,
while the villain was a compound of Judge Burleigh, and Charlie, and
Holt, the horse-jockey.