Were we disposed to heroics, we might compare Mrs. Ricketts's
sensations, on entering the grounds of the villa, to the feelings
experienced by the ancient Gauls when, from the heights of the Alps,
they gazed down on the fertile plains of Italy. If less colored by the
glorious hues of conquering ambition, they were not the less practical.
She saw that, with her habitual good fortune, she had piloted the
Rickettses' barque into a safe and pleasant anchorage, where she might
at her leisure refit and lay in stores for future voyaging. Already she
knew poor Dalton, as she herself said, from “cover to cover,”--she had
sounded all the shallows and shoals of his nature, and read his vanity,
his vainglorious importance, and his selfish pride, as though they were
printed on his forehead. Were Nelly to be like Kate, the victory, she
thought, could not be very difficult. “Let her have but one predominant
passion, and be it love of admiration, avarice, a taste for dress, for
scandal, or for grand society, it matters not, I'll soon make her my
own.”
“This will do, Martha!” whispered she, in Miss Ricketts's ear, as they
drove up the approach.
“I think so,” was the low-uttered reply.
“Tell Scroope to be cautious,--very cautious,” whispered she once more;
and then turned to Dalton, to expatiate on the beauty of the grounds,
and the exquisite taste displayed in their arrangement.
“It has cost me a mint of money,” said Dalton, giving way irresistibly
to his instinct of boastfulness. “Many of those trees you see there came
from Spain and Portugal; and not only the trees, but the earth that's
round them.”
“Did you hear that, Martha?” interposed Mrs. Rick-etts. “Mr. Dalton very
wisely remarks that man is of all lands, while the inferior productions
of nature require their native soils as a condition of existence.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Dalton, fathering the sentiment at once; “'tis only
the blacks that can't bear the cowld. But, after all, maybe they 're not
the same as ourselves.”
“I own I never could think them so,” smiled Mrs. Rick-etts, as though
the very appearance of Peter Dalton had confirmed the prejudice.
“Faix! I'm glad to hear you say that,” said he, delightedly. “Tis many's
the battle Nelly and me has about that very thing. There's the villa,
now--what d' ye think of it?”
“Charming--beautiful--a paradise!”
“Quite a paradise!” echoed Martha.
“'T is a mighty expensive paradise, let me tell you,” broke in Peter.
“I've a gardener, and four chaps under him, and sorrow a thing I ever
see them do but cut nosegays and stick little bits of wood in the
ground, with hard names writ on them; that's what they call gardening
here. As for a spade or a hoe, there's not one in the country; they do
everything with a case-knife and watering-pot.”
“You amaze me,” said Mrs. Ricketts, who was determined on being
instructed in horticulture.
“There's a fellow now, with a bundle of moss-roses for Nelly, and
there's another putting out the parrot's cage under a tree,----that's
the day's work for both of them.”
“Are you not happy to think how your ample means diffuse ease and
enjoyment on all round you? Don't tell me that the pleasure you feel is
not perfect ecstasy.”
“That's one way of considering it,” said Dalton, dubiously, for he was
not quite sure whether he could or could not yield his concurrence.
“But if people did n't la-la-la--”
“Lay abed, you mean,” cried Dalton; “that's just what they do; a German
wouldn't ask to awake at all, if it wasn't to light his pipe.”
“I meant la-la-labor; if they did n't la-labor the ground, we should all
be starved.”
“No political economy, Scroope,” cried Mrs. Ricketts; “I will not permit
it. That dreadful science is a passion with him, Mr. Dal ton.”
“Is it?” said Peter, confusedly, to whose ears the word “economy” only
suggested notions of saving and sparing. “I can only say,” added he,
after a pause, “tastes differ, and I never could abide it at all.”
“I was certain of it,” resumed Mrs. Ricketts; “but here comes a young
lady towards us,--Miss Dalton, I feel it must be.”
The surmise was quite correct. It was Nelly, who, in expectation of
meeting her father, had walked down from the house, and now, seeing a
carriage, stood half irresolute what to do.
“Yes, that's Nelly,” cried Dalton, springing down to the ground; “she'll
be off now, for she thinks it's visitors come to see the place.”
While Dalton hastened to overtake his daughter, Mrs. Ricketts had time
to descend and shake out all her plumage,--a proceeding of manual
dexterity to which Martha mainly contributed; indeed, it was almost
artistic in its way, for while feathers were disposed to droop here, and
lace taught to fall gracefully there, the fair Zoe assumed the peculiar
mood in which she determined on conquest.
“How do I look, Martha?” said she, bridling up, and then smiling.
“Very sweetly,--quite charming,” replied Martha.
“I know that,” said the other, pettishly; “but am I maternal,--am I
affectionate?”
“Very maternal,----most affectionate,” was the answer.
“You're a fool!” said Mrs. Ricketts, contemptuously; but had barely time
to restore her features to their original blandness, when Nelly came up.
The few words in which her father had announced Mrs. Ricketts spoke
of her as one who had known and been kind to Kate, and Nelly wanted no
stronger recommendation to her esteem.
The quiet, gentle manner of the young girl, the almost humble simplicity
of her dress, at once suggested to Mrs. Ricketts the tone proper for the
occasion, and she decided on being natural; which, to say truth, was
the most remote thing from nature it is well possible to conceive. Poor
Nelly was not, however, a very shrewd critic, and she felt quite happy
to be so much at her ease as they walked along to the house together.
Mrs. Ricketts saw that Kate was the key-note to all her sister's
affection, and therefore talked away of her unceasingly. To have heard
her, one would have thought they had been inseparable, and that Kate had
confided to the dear old lady the most secret thoughts of her heart. The
amiable Zoe did, indeed, contrive to effect this rather by the aid of
an occasional sigh, a tone of lamentation and sorrow, than by direct
assertion; all conveying the impression that she was cut to the heart
about something, but would rather be “brayed in a mortar” than tell
it. Martha's mild and submissive manner won rapidly on Nelly, and she
wondered whether Kate had liked her. In fact, the visitors were all
so very unlike the usual company her father presented to her, she felt
disposed to think the best of them; and even Scroope came in for a share
of her good opinion.
The interior of the villa changed the current of conversation, and now
Mrs. Ricketts felt herself at home examining the rich brocade of the
hangings, the bronzes, and the inlaid tables.
“Lyons silk,----twenty-four francs a metre!” whispered she to Scroope.
“I thought they had n't a s-s-sixpence,” observed the other.
“And these things are new, Scroope!--all new!”
“I--I--I was observing that, sister.”
“What a creature he is, Scroope!--what a creature!”
“And the daughter, I suspect, is only ha-ha-half-witted.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Zoe, as though she did not quite coincide with that
opinion.
The confidential dialogue was broken in upon by Dalton, who, having
dragged the poor General over the terrace and the flower-garden, was now
showing him the inside of the dwelling.
“If I could but see dear Kate here!” sighed Mrs. Ricketts, as she slowly
sank into a downy chair, “I'd fancy this was home. It's all so like
herself,--such graceful elegance, such tasteful splendor.”
“It's neat,----I think it's neat,” said Dalton, almost bursting with the
effort to repress his delight.
[Illustration: 250]
“Oh, sir, it's princely! It's worthy the great name of its possessor.
Dear Kate often told me of her beautiful home.”
“I thought you li-li-lived over a toy-shop? Foglass said you li-lived--”
“So we did while the place was getting ready,” said Dalton, flushing.
“Just let me sit here, and watch the rippling of that shining river!”
sighed Mrs. Ricketts, laying her hand on Dalton's, and, by a melting
look, withdrawing him from Scroope's unlucky reminiscence. “If I could
but pass the night here, I feel it would be ecstasy.”
“What easier, if it's in earnest you are?” cried Dalton. “We never make
use of this little drawing-room. Nelly will get you a bed put up in five
minutes.”
“Is n't that Irish, Scroope?--is n't that what I often told you of
Ireland?” cried Zoe, as her eyes glistened.
“Well, but I'm not joking,” resumed Dalton; “small as the place is, we
can make room for you all. We 'll put Miss Martha in Nelly's room, and
the General can have mine; and there's a mighty snug tittle place for
you in the garden.”
“Oh, dear, dear, dear Ireland, how I love you!” said Mrs. Ricketts,
closing her eyes, and affecting to talk in her sleep.
“There's worse places,” murmured Dalton, who drank in national flattery
as the pleasantest “tipple” after personal. “But say the word, now, and
see if we won't make you comfortable.”
“Comfortable!----you mean happy, supremely happy,” ejaculated Zoe.
“And there's no inconvenience in it, none whatever,” continued Dalton,
who now was breast-high in his plot. “That's a fine thing in this little
town of Baden; you can have everything at a moment's warning, from a
sirloin of beef to a strait-waistcoat.”
Now Mrs. Ricketts laughed till her eyes overflowed with tears, at
Dalton's drollery; and Scroope, too, cackled his own peculiar cry; and
the old General chimed in with a faint wheezing sound,--a cross between
the wail of an infant and a death-rattle; in the midst of which Dalton
hurried away to seek Nelly, who was showing the garden to Martha.
“Now, mind me, Scroope,” cried Mrs. Ricketts, as soon as they were
alone; “no selfishness, no eternal trouble about your own comfort. We
may probably pass the summer here, and--”
“But I--I----I won't sleep under the stairs, I--I----I promise you,”
cried he, angrily.
“You had a dear little room, with a lovely view, at Noëringen. You are
most ungrateful.”
“It was a d-d ear little room, six feet sqnare, and looked ont on a
tannery. My skin would have been leather if I had st-st-stayed another
week in it.”
“Martha slept in a wardrobe, and never complained.”
“For that matter, I passed two months in a sh-shower-bath,” cried
Scroope; “but I--I won't do it a-any more.”
To what excesses his rebellious spirit might have carried him it is hard
to say, for Dalton now came up with Nelly, who was no less eager than
her father to offer the hospitalities of the villa. At the hazard of
detracting in the reader's esteem from all this generous liberality, we
feel bound to add that neither Dalton nor his daughter ever speculated
on the lengthened sojourn which Mrs. Ricketts's more prophetic spirit
foreshadowed.
The accidental mistake about the hotel first suggested the offer, which
of course the next day was sure to obviate. And now, as it has so often
been an unpleasant task to record little flaws and frailties of the
Rickettses' nature, let us take the opportunity of mentioning some
traits of an opposite kind, which, even as a “set-off,” are not
valueless. Nothing could be more truly amiable than the conduct of the
whole family when the question of their stay had been resolved upon. Had
Scroope been bred a cabinet-maker, he could n't have been handier with
bed-screws, laths, and curtain-rods. Martha, divested of shawl and
bonnet, arranged toilet-tables and looking-glasses like the most
accomplished housemaid; while, reclining in her easy-chair, the fair Zoe
vouchsafed praises on all the efforts around her, and nodded, as Jove
might, on mortal endeavors to conciliate him.
Poor Nelly was in ecstasy at all this goodness; such a united family was
a perfect picture. Nothing seemed to inconvenience them,--nothing went
wrong. There was a delightfully playful spirit in the way they met and
conquered little difficulties, and whenever hard pushed by fate there
was a wonderful reticule of Mrs. Ricketts's which was sure to contain
something to extricate them at once. Since Aladdin's lamp, there never
was such a magical contrivance as that bag; and the Wizard of the North,
who makes pancakes in a gentleman's hat and restores it unstained, and
who, from the narrow limits of a snuff-box, takes out feathers enough
to stuff a pillow-case, would have paled before the less surprising but
more practical resources of the “Rickettses' sack.”
Various articles of toilet necessity, from objects peculiar to the
lady's own, down to the General's razors, made their appearance. An
impertinent curiosity might have asked why a lady going to dine at a
public ordinary should have carried about with her such an array
of flannel jackets, cordials, lotions, slippers, hair-brashes, and
nightcaps; but it is more than likely that Mrs. Ricketts would have
smiled at the short-sighted simplicity of the questioner, as she
certainly did at poor Nelly's face of quiet astonishment.
It was a downright pleasure to make sacrifices for people so ready to
accommodate themselves to circumstances, and who seemed to possess a
physical pliancy not inferior to the mental one. The General wanted
no window to shave at. Martha could bestow herself within limits that
seemed impossible to humanity. As for Scroope, he was what French
dramatists call a “grand utility,”--now climbing up ladders to arrange
curtain-rods, now descending to the cellars in search of unknown and
nameless requisites. A shrewd observer might have wondered that such
extensive changes in the economy of a household were effected for the
sake of one night's accommodation; but this thought neither occurred to
Dalton nor his daughter, who were, indeed, too full of admiration for
their guests' ingenuity and readiness, to think of anything else.
As for honest Peter, a house full of company was his delight. As he took
his place that evening at the supper-table, he was supremely happy. Nor
was it wonderful, considering the pleased looks and bland faces that
he saw on each side of him. All his stories were new to his present
audience. Mount Dalton and its doings were an anecdotic mine, of which
they had never explored a single “shaft.” The grandeur of his family
was a theme all listened to with interest and respect; and as Mrs.
Ricketts's flattery was well-timed and cleverly administered, and
Scroope's blunders fewer and less impertinent than usual, the evening
was altogether a very pleasant one, and, as the cant is, went off
admirably.
If Nelly had now and then little misgivings about the over-anxiety
to please displayed by Mrs. Ricketts, and a certain exaggerated
appreciation she occasionally bestowed upon her father's “Irishism,” she
was far too distrustful of her own judgment not to set down her fears
to ignorance of life and its conventionalities. “It would ill
become _her_,” she thought, “to criticise people so well-bred and
so well-mannered.” And this modest depreciation of herself saved the
others.
It was thus that the hosts felt towards their guests as they wished them
good-night, and cordially shook hands at parting.
“As agreeable an old lady as ever I met,” said Dalton to his daughter;
“and not wanting in good sense either.”
“I like Miss Martha greatly,” said Nelly. “She is so gently mannered and
so mild, I'm sure Kate was fond of her.”
“I like them all but the little chap with the stutter. He seems so
curious about everything.”
“They are all so pleased--so satisfied with everything,” said Nelly,
enthusiastically.
“And why wouldn't they? There's worse quarters, let me tell you, than
this! It is n't under Peter Dalton's roof that people go to bed hungry.
I wouldn't wonder if they'd pass a day or two with us.”
“Do you think so?” said Nelly, scarcely knowing whether to be pleased or
the reverse.
“Well see to-morrow,” said Dalton, as he took his candle and began to
climb up the stairs to the room which he was now to occupy instead of
his own chamber, singing, as he went, an old ballad,----
“The whole Balrothery hunt was there,
And welcome were they all!
With two in a bed, and four on the stairs,
And twelve in the Bachelor's hall!”
Leaving Dalton to con over the stray verses of his once favorite ballad
as he dropped off to sleep, we turn for a moment to the chamber which,
by right of conquest, was held by the fair Zoe, and where, before a
large mirror, she was now seated; while Martha was engaged upon that
wonderful head, whose external machinery was almost as complex as
its internal. Mrs. Ricketts had resolved upon adopting a kind of
materno-protective tone towards Nelly; and the difficulty now was to
hit off a coiffure to sustain that new character. It should combine the
bland with the dignified, and be simple without being severe. There
was something Memnonic in that large old head, from which the gray hair
descended in massive falls, that seemed worthy of better things than a
life of petty schemes and small intrigues; and the patient Martha looked
like one whose submissive nature should have been bent to less ignoble
burdens than the capricious fretfulness of a tiresome old woman. But so
is it every day in life; qualities are but what circumstances make them,
and even great gifts become but sorry aids when put to base uses!
There was another figure in the group, and for him no regrets arise as
to talents misapplied and tastes perverted. Nature had created Scroope
Purvis for one line of character, and he never ventured to walk out of
it. In a large and showy dressing-gown belonging to his host, and a pair
of most capacious slippers from the same wardrobe, Scroope had come
down to assist at a Cabinet Council. He had just performed a voyage of
discovery round the house, having visited every available nook, from
the garret to the cellars, and not omitting the narrow chamber to which
Nelly herself had retired, with whom he kept up an amicable conversation
for several minutes, under pretence of having mistaken his room. Thence
he had paid a visit to old Andy's den; and, after a close scrutiny of
the larder and a peep between the bars at the dairy, came back with the
honest conviction that he had done his duty.
“It's sm-small, sister----it's very small,” said he, entering her
chamber.
“It's not smaller than Mrs. Balfour's cottage at the Lakes, and you know
we spent a summer there,” said the lady, rebukingly.
“But we had it all to--to ourselves, sister.”
“So much the worse. A cook and a cellar are admirable fixtures.--The
curls lower down on the sides, Martha. I don't want to look like Grisi.”
There was something comforting in the last assurance, for it would have
sorely tested poor Martha's skill had the wish been the reverse.
“They don't seem to ha-have been long here, sister. The knif eboard in
the scullery has n't been used above a--a few times. I should n't wonder
if old Da-Da-Dalton won the villa at play.”
“Fudge!--Fuller on the brow, Martha--more expansive there.”
“Is n't the girl vulgar, sister?” asked Scroope.
“Decidedly vulgar, and dressed like a fright!--I thought it was only
you, Martha, that rolled up the back hair like a snail's shell.” Martha
blushed, but never spoke. “I suppose she's the same that used to cut the
pipe-heads and the umbrella tops. I remarked that her fingers were all
knotted and hard.”
“Her smile is very pleasing,” submitted Martha, diffidently.
“It's like her father's laugh,--far too natural for my taste! There's
no refinement, no elegance, in one of your sweet, unmeaning smiles. I
thought I had told you that at least twenty times, Martha. But you have
grown self-willed and self-opinionated of late, and I must say, you
couldn't have a graver fault! Correct it in time, I beseech you.”
“I 'll try,” said Martha, in a very faint voice.
“If you try, you 'll succeed. Look at your brother. See what he has
become. There's an example might stimulate you.”
Another and a far deeper sigh was all Martha's acknowledgment of this
speech.
“He was the same violent, impetuous creature that you are. There, you
need n't tear my hair out by the roots to prove it! He wouldn't brook
the very mildest remonstrance; he was passionate and irrestrainable, and
what I have made him. Oh, you spiteful creature, how you hurt me!”
This cry of pain was not quite causeless, for Martha was trembling
from head to foot, and actually only saved herself from falling by a
mechanical clutch at something like a horse's tail. With many excuses,
and in a voice broken by regrets, she resumed her task with a vigorous
effort for success, while Mrs. Ricketts and Purvis exchanged glances of
supreme contempt.
“I speak to you, Martha,” resumed she, “for your own sake. You
cannot see what all the world sees,--the sinful selfishness of your
nature,----a vice, I must say, the less pardonable that you live beneath
the shadow of my counsels!--Scroope, don't creak that chair,--sit upon
that stool there.--Now that we shall probably spend two months here--”
“Here! Do--do you m-mean here?” cried Purvis.
“Of course I mean here, sir. There's nothing in the shape of a lodging
to be had under three or four hundred francs a month. This is a very
sweet place; and when the old gentleman can be induced to take a room in
the town for himself, and that his daughter learns, as she will,--though
certainly not from Martha,--what is due to _me,_ it will be comfortable
and convenient. We'll ask the Princess, too, to spend a week with us;
for who knows, in the present state of politics, to what corner of
Germany we may yet be reduced to fly!”
“How will you m-m-manage with Haggerstone and the rest, when they
arrive, sister?”
“Easily enough. I 'll show them that it's for their advantage that we
are here. It is true that we agreed to take a house together; but every
plan is modified by the events of the campaign. Petrolaffsky will be
content if Mr. Dalton plays piquet; the Colonel will like his claret and
Burgundy; and Foglass will be pleased with the retirement that permits
him to prosecute his attentions to Martha.”
Poor Martha blushed crimson at the tone rather, even than the words of
the speech; for, when nothing else offered, it was the practice of Mrs.
Ricketts to insinuate coquetry as among her sister's defects.
“You needn't look so much confused, my dear,” resumed the torturer; “I
'm certain it's not the first affair of the kind you've known.”
“Oh, sister!” cried Martha, in a voice of almost entreaty.
“Not that I think there would be anything unsuitable in the match; he is
probably fifty-eight or nine,--sixty at most,----and, excepting deafness
and the prosy tendency natural to his time of life, pretty much like
everybody else.”
“You know, sister, that _he_ never thought of _me_, nor _I _of _him_.”
“I know that I am not in the confidence of either party,” said Mrs.
Ricketts, bridling; “and I also know I am sincerely happy that my head
is not crammed with such fiddle-faddle. Before the great event comes
off, however, you will have time to attend to something else, and
therefore I beg you will keep in mind what I am about to say to you.
We are here, Martha,” resumed she, with all the solemnity of a
judicial charge,--“we are here by no claims of relationship or previous
friendship. No secret ties of congenial tastes bind us up together. No
common attachment to some other dear creature forms a link between us.
We are here as much by chance as one can venture to call anything in
this unhappy world. Let us, then, show Fortune that we are not unworthy
of her goodness, by neglecting nothing which may strengthen our position
and secure our permanence. In a word, Martha, throw over all your
selfishness'----forget the miserable egotism that besets you, and study
that young girl's character and wishes. She has never been courted in
life--flatter her; she has never been even thought of----show her every
consideration; she is evidently of a thoughtful turn, and nobody can
mope better than yourself. Insinuate yourself day by day into little
household affairs, mingling counsels here and warnings there,--always
on the side of economy,--so that while affecting only to play with the
reins, you'll end by driving the coach.”
“I 'm afraid I 've no head for all this, sister.”
“Of course you have n't, nor for anything else without _me_ to guide
you. I 'm perfectly aware of that. But you can learn. You can at least
obey!”
“My sister means that you can st-st-struggle against the natural
w-w-wilfulness of your d-disposition,” cackled in Purvis.
“I'll do my best,” murmured Martha, in a voice of humility.
“Women are so fond of sa-saving,” cried Scroope, “You'll always be safe
when you c-c-cut down the estimates.”
“Attend to that, Martha,” remarked Mrs. Ricketts.
“Find out the price of ch-chickens, and always buy them a kreutzer
cheaper than she has done.”
“There is nothing gives such an ascendency in a house as showing that
you can maintain the establishment for fourpence less per quarter,” said
Zoe, gravely. “I have known connubial happiness, that has stood the test
of temper and illness for years, wrecked on the small rock of a cook's
bill. Like all wasteful men, you may be sure that this Dalton has many
miserly habits. Learn these, and indulge them. There was that poor
Marquis of Binchley, that never dined without a hundred wax candles in
the room, left all his fortune to a nephew he once found collecting the
sealing-wax from old letters and making it up for fresh use. Reflect
upon this, Martha; and always bear in mind that the vices of mankind
are comparatively uninstructive. It is their foibles, their small
weaknesses, that teach everything.”
“When Ha-Ha-Haggerstone comes, and finds no room for him, you 'll
ha-ha-have the devil to pay.”
“He shall take it out in dinners, Scroope; and what between drinking
Dalton's wine with him, and abusing him behind his back, you 'll see he
'll be perfectly happy.”
“How long do you purpose to st-stay here, sister?” asked Scroope.
“Ask the butterfly how long the rose and the hyacinth will bloom,” said
Mrs. Ricketts, pensively; for, by dint of smiling at herself in the
looking-glass, she had come round to that mock poetical vein which ran
through her strange incongruous nature. “And now good-night, dears,”
sighed she. “These are sweet moments, but they are paid for at a price.
Exhausted energies will have repose.” She held out her hand to Martha,
who kissed it respectfully, and then waived a graceful adieu to Purvis,
as he retired.
“Sister Zoe has a head for everything,” muttered Purvis to Martha.
“There's nothing she's not up to.”
“She's very clever indeed!” sighed Martha.
“And this is n't the worst h-hit she has ever made. It was d-deucedly
well done to get in here.”
Either Martha did n't concur in the sentiment, or Scroope's satisfaction
did not need any backing, for she made no reply.
“They 've given me a capital room; I fa-fancy Dalton's own, for I found
a heap of old bills and letters in a table-drawer, and something like
a--like a----like a writ”--here he laughed till the tears came at the
drollery of the thought,--“in the pocket of his dressing-gown.”
“Good-night,” said Martha, softly, as she glided into the little chamber
allotted to her. Poor Martha! Save Nelly's, hers was the saddest heart
beneath that roof. For the first time in all her long years of trial,
a ray of doubt, a flash of infidelity had broken upon her mind, and
the thought of her sister-in-law's infallibility became for a moment
suspected. It was not that abused and outraged submission was goaded
into rebellion; it was dormant reason that was suddenly startled into
a passing wakefulness. It was like one of those fitful gleams of
intelligence which now and then dart across the vacuity of dulled
intellects, and, like such, it was only a meteor-flash, and left no
trace of light behind it. Even in all its briefness the anguish it gave
was intense; it was the delusion of a whole life rent asunder at once,
and the same shock which should convulse the moral world of her thoughts
would rob her of all the pleasantest fancies of her existence. If Zoe
were not all goodness and all genius, what was to become of all the
household gods of the Villino? Titians would moulder away into stained
and smoked panels; “Sèvres” and “Saxe” would fall down to pasteboard and
starch; carved oak and ebony would resolve themselves into leather; and
even the friendship of princes and the devotion of philosophers be only
a mockery, a sham, and a snare!
Poor Martha! Deprived of these illusions, life was but one unceasing
round of toil; while, aided by imagination, she could labor on
unwearied. Without a thought of deception, she gloried in the harmless
frauds to which she contributed, but could n't resist the contagion of
credulity around her. How easily could such a spirit have been moulded
to every good gift, and qualities like these have been made to minister
to comfort and happiness, and the faith that was given to gilt paper,
and glue, and varnish, elevated to all that is highest in the moral and
material world!
And now they were all in slumber beneath that roof,--all save one. Poor
Nelly sat at her window, tearful and sad. In the momentary excitement of
receiving her guests she had forgotten her cares; but now they came back
upon her, coupled with all the fears their wasteful habits could suggest
At times she blamed herself for the tame cowardice which beset her, and
restrained her from every effort to avert the coming evil; and at times
she resigned herself to the gloomy future, with the stern patience
of the Indian who saw his canoe swept along into the rapids above the
cataract. There was not one to turn to for advice or counsel, and the
strength that would have sustained her in any other trial was here
sapped by the dread of giving pain to her father. “It would ill become
_me_ to give him cause for sorrow,--I, that of all his children have
ministered nothing to his pride nor his happiness!” Such was the
estimate she held of herself, and such the reasoning that flowed from
it.