"Here blend the ties that strengthen
Our hearts in hours of grief,
The silver links that lengthen
Joy's visits when most brief." BERNARD BARTON.
_Wednesday, June 3d._
DEAR MOTHER,--I have just returned from a pleasant drive with Mother,
Frank and Emily. You will wonder that I can so soon address any other
but yourself by that endearing word, _mother_; indeed it cost me an
effort. But this morning, she came in soon after breakfast, and when I
said, joyfully, "good morning, Mrs. Lenox," she kissed me tenderly and
said, "can you give me no dearer name, my child?" I looked up in her
face, and felt that I could call her "mother." I wish, I could describe
to you the impression, she makes upon me. She is very gentle and tender
in her manner, particularly so to her only son. She is also cheerful;
but I think she must have known what sorrow is, heart-felt, abiding
sorrow. Though the expression of her countenance is placid and
touchingly sweet, yet, as I watched her yesterday, I could see her eyes
fill with tears as she looked at Frank.
I never saw a son more affectionate and respectful to his mother. There
is a perfect understanding between them. It was his earnest wish to have
her and his sister live with him, as the house is very large; but she
thought it not best. The property was left him by his father, and he has
put up for her a beautiful English cottage, separated from his dwelling
only by the garden, while the carriage drive passes from one to the
other.
I promised you a description of my new home. Imagine yourself entering
from the street an avenue lined with trees, (linden I think) and winding
for about twenty or thirty rods up to a stately mansion. From the
carriage drive, you ascend ten or twelve steps to the front entrance,
over which is a very fine portico supported by large pillars which are
completely covered with a running-rose vine. Entering the outer door,
you stand in a spacious hall, which runs directly through the house and
opens in the rear upon a piazza extending the entire length of the
building. From this piazza there is a most enchanting prospect. Blue
mountains skirt the horizon, while a beautiful lake nestles in their
bosom.
There are four large rooms on the ground floor, two parlors in front, a
dining-room and a sitting room in the rear. In addition to these there
are wings on each side of the house. One is entered from the
sitting-room, and is devoted to Frank's library and cabinet; the other
enters from the dining-room and is occupied by Mistress Phebe Lenox in
her culinary department.
In the second story there are five chambers, together with two in the
attic. Cæsar has a neat room finished off over the carriage house, which
he and Phebe appropriate to themselves.
The fifth room on the second floor I shall not forget to describe. It is
over the rear hall, opening from our room; and my kind husband has
fitted it up as my boudoir. I can't conceive how he knew so exactly what
I should like. Emily says he selected everything himself, and that it
has been a subject of mirth for her that he should know the minutiæ of a
lady's toilet. There is one large French window which opens like a door
upon the balcony over the piazza. Rose-colored curtains are draped from
it, so that I can be secluded at pleasure. Before the window stands an
elegant easy-chair, large enough for both of us, and near it a table
holding a desk, with every convenience for writing. At this I am now
sitting, and I prophesy it will be a favorite resort.
Two-thirds of the length of the room opposite the window is occupied by
a wardrobe of the most convenient kind, containing fixtures for hanging
dresses, also shelves and drawers.
Opposite the door leading from my room, is a dressing table standing
before a long mirror. This table is furnished with everything which even
a French lady can wish in the making of her toilet, and is equally
tasteful and convenient.
In the corner beyond the wardrobe, stands a beautiful piece of Italian
statuary, representing a young girl bearing a basket of fruit. She has
such a touching expression upon her lovely countenance that I can hardly
persuade myself she is not imploring my sympathy.
I have described my own little boudoir more particularly than any other
apartment, that you may be able to think of me where I shall spend most
of my time.
Here I may court the muses. Indeed, I feel more than half inspired
already, by the magnificent landscape before me.
_Afternoon._
I didn't quite understand, yesterday, what Frank meant about answering
my questions to-day; but while I was busily writing this morning, I
heard a gentle knock at the door. I sprang up and opened it for my
husband.
He smiled when he saw how I was engaged, and wheeling the chair from the
table to the window, sat down and took me on his knee.
"Well, Cora, how do you like your new home? Phebe has just expressed her
opinion that 'you'll be wonted soon.'"
"Oh, it's beautiful!" I exclaimed, "why didn't you tell me, that I might
have the pleasure of anticipating these beauties?"
"I could not be quite sure what fancies floated in your mind, and I had
rather surprise than disappoint you."
"Oh, Frank, you surely know me better than that! but look there," said
I, pointing to the beautiful lake before us. We looked in silence for a
moment, when he laughed, and inquired if I had no questions to ask him.
"I am ready," said he, "to undergo a regular catechising."
In an instant all my former fancies of my husband's poverty, and of my
assisting him darted through my mind. I suppose, I looked rather sober,
for he turned my face toward him with a questioning look.
"I imagined, you were poor," said I, hesitatingly.
Oh, what a merry peal of laughter rang through the room! It was a minute
or more before he could recover himself, while I didn't know whether to
laugh or cry. But laughing is contagious, and soon the absurdity of
crying because I had the best husband in the world, and with him
everything that heart could desire, caused me to join cordially with
him.
However, he soon took both my hands in his, in a manner peculiar to him
when he has anything special to say, and resumed, "It is high time, my
love, you should know _who you are_." I will give you the substance of
his story.
His father was a man of independent fortune, who died about eight years
ago, soon after Frank reached his majority, and a few months subsequent
to his graduation from college. Frank had always desired to be a
physician, though his father and mother had hoped he would become a
minister. The property was by will equally divided among the three, his
mother, sister and himself.
Five of the years since his father's death he has spent in Europe,
studying his profession, and travelling. During this time he returned
twice to see his mother, and to direct about the estate. After this he
passed eighteen months in one of the southern cities, practising
medicine. Then determining to go abroad again, he passed the winter in
Paris, where you remember, I first met him.
"I hardly know," said he, "where I should have been now, if you had said
_nay_ to one question, I asked. But I thank God for giving me my sweet
wife." This, he said so seriously that I hid my face in his bosom to
conceal my tears.
Then in a few words he delineated the person and character of his
father, who was a very godly man, distinguished throughout the country
for sound judgment, patriotism and benevolence. Frank described the
heart-rending affliction of his mother, the asperities of which time had
somewhat softened. She is but forty-eight years of age, though I had
supposed her much older. She has received frequent proposals for a
second marriage; but never for a moment could think of entering the
matrimonial state, while her heart was so full of precious recollections
of her deceased husband.
The Doctor looked quite serious, as he always does when his countenance
is not lighted with a smile. But I diverted his thoughts with the
request, "tell me about Emily."
"She is in temperament like my father," he replied, "full of life and
spirit; ever ready to weep with those that weep, and to rejoice with
those that rejoice; she is just one month older than you, Cora; time
will prove," he added pleasantly, as he smoothed back my hair, "which is
the wiser."
_Thursday, June 4th._
This morning, invitations have been sent to friends of the family for a
levee at mother's cottage, in honor of the bride. Frank says my
associates in town will be likely to be of a very promiscuous character.
To-morrow evening I am to be introduced to the aristocracy, and
afterwards to my husband's poor patients, of whom Emily affirms there
are no inconsiderable number.
This is a shire town, and a court is in session here, which brings many
distinguished members of the legal profession to the place. I am told it
contains from eight to ten thousand inhabitants. I have seen some very
beautiful country seats; and I should think it well laid out.
There is a principal street running through the centre, lined with
houses. Upon it private dwellings are interspersed with shops, stores,
ware-rooms, and other places of business. The main street is very wide,
and at this season looks finely, with its splendid rows of shade trees.
Within a few years many persons have left their residences in Broad
Street, and have built cottages and villas on the forest heights
overlooking the village and the surrounding country.
The Doctor was summoned this morning to a sick woman. This is his first
professional call since his return; but now I must be reconciled to his
leaving me often, as he has a very large practice.
There are more than half a score of regular practitioners in the place,
all of whom are invited to mother's levee. Oh, if my friends from home
could be there! I find writing a very poor substitute for talking with
you. With what delight shall I read your letters. Isabel and Nelly must
write about everything, as they promised. Beloved home, parents and
sisters, how my heart longs for one more look, one fond embrace.
_Friday, June 5th._
My services have been put in requisition at the cottage, or rather my
_advice_ (don't laugh, Bell!) has been requested with regard to the
arrangements for the table, fruits and flowers. Emily says, I know
everything, or ought to, as I was educated in France.
I told her, all I knew was heartily at her service; and straightway the
lively girl pulled off my bonnet and gloves, and set me to work, making
bouquets for the table.
After this, we entered right merrily into the preparations for the
evening, while mother was busily engaged with the cook. We had all
things arranged to our minds, and had resolved ourselves into a tasting
committee of the various luxuries for the entertainment, when Frank came
in and took me home with him.
I had been deliberating about my toilet for the occasion, when he
presented me an exquisite bouquet of white flowers, together with some
beautiful white moss-rose buds for my hair. I fairly clapped my hands
with delight, they reminded me so much of home. I could say nothing in
reply but "dear Frank!"