One Sunday morning in September the second bell was just beginning to
toll, and Mrs. Lunn locked her front door, tried the great brass
latch, put the heavy key into her best silk dress pocket, and stepped
forth discreetly on her way to church. She had been away from Longport
for several weeks, having been sent for to companion the last days of
a cousin much older than herself; and her reappearance was now greeted
with much friendliness. The siege of her heart had necessarily been in
abeyance. She walked to her seat in the broad aisle with great
dignity. It was a season of considerable interest in Longport, for the
new minister had that week been installed, and that day he was to
preach his first sermon. All the red East Indian scarfs and best
raiment of every sort suitable for early autumn wear had been brought
out of the camphor-chests, and there was an air of solemn festival.
Mrs. Lunn's gravity of expression was hardly borne out by her gayety
of apparel, yet there was something cheerful about her look, in spite
of her recent bereavement. The cousin who had just died had in times
past visited Longport, so that Mrs. Lunn's friends were the more ready
to express their regret. When one has passed the borders of middle
life, such losses are sadly met; they break the long trusted bonds of
old association, and remove a part of one's own life and belongings.
Old friends grow dearer as they grow fewer; those who remember us as
long as we remember ourselves become a part of ourselves at last, and
leave us much the poorer when they are taken away. Everybody felt
sorry for Mrs. Lunn, especially as it was known that this cousin had
always been as generous as her income would allow; but she was chiefly
dependent upon an annuity, and was thought to have but little to leave
behind her.
Mrs. Lunn had reached home only the evening before, and, the day of
her return having been uncertain, she was welcomed by no one, and had
slipped in at her own door unnoticed in the dusk. There was a little
stir in the congregation as she passed to her pew, but, being in
affliction, she took no notice of friendly glances, and responded with
great gravity only to her neighbor in the next pew, with whom she
usually exchanged confidential whispers as late as the second sentence
of the opening prayer.
The new minister was better known to her than to any other member of
the parish; for he had been the pastor of the church to which her
lately deceased cousin belonged, and Mrs. Lunn had seen him oftener
and more intimately than ever in this last sad visit. He was a
fine-looking man, no longer young,--in fact, he looked quite as old as
our heroine,--and though at first the three captains alone may have
regarded him with suspicion, by the time church was over and the Rev.
Mr. Farley had passed quickly by some prominent parishioners who stood
expectant at the doors of their pews, in order to speak to Mrs. Lunn,
and lingered a few moments holding her affectionately by the hand--by
this time gossip was fairly kindled. Moreover, the minister had
declined Deacon Torby's invitation to dinner, and it was supposed,
though wrongly, that he had accepted Mrs. Lunn's, as they walked away
together.
Now Mrs. Lunn was a great favorite in the social circles of
Longport--none greater; but there were other single ladies in the
First Parish, and it was something to be deeply considered whether she
had the right, with so little delay, to appropriate the only
marriageable minister who had been settled over that church and
society during a hundred and eighteen years. There was a loud buzzing
of talk that Sunday afternoon. It was impossible to gainsay the fact
that if there was a prospective engagement, Mrs. Lunn had shown her
usual discretion. The new minister had a proper income, but no house
and home; while she had a good house and home, but no income. She was
called hard names, which would have deeply wounded her, by many of her
intimate friends; but there were others who more generously took her
part, though they vigorously stated their belief that a young married
pastor with a growing family had his advantages. The worst thing
seemed to be that the Rev. Mr. Farley was beginning his pastorate
under a cloud.
While all this tempest blew, and all eyes were turned her way, friends
and foes alike behaved as if not only themselves but the world were
concerned with Mrs. Maria Lunn's behavior, and as if the fate of
empires hung upon her choice of a consort. She was maligned by Captain
Crowe's two sisters for having extended encouragement to their
brother, while the near relatives of Captain Shaw told tales of her
open efforts to secure his kind attention; but in spite of all these
things, and the antagonism that was in the very air, Mrs. Lunn went
serenely on her way. She even, after a few days' seclusion, arrayed
herself in her best, and set forth to make some calls with a pleasant,
unmindful manner which puzzled her neighbors a good deal. She had, or
professed to have, some excuse for visiting each house: of one friend
she asked instructions about her duties as newly elected officer of
the sewing society, the first meeting of which had been held in her
absence; and another neighbor was kindly requested to give the latest
news from an invalid son at a distance. Mrs. Lunn did not make such a
breach of good manners as to go out making calls with no reason so
soon after her cousin's death. She appeared rather in her most
friendly and neighborly character; and furthermore gave much
interesting information in regard to the new minister, telling many
pleasant things about him and his relations to, and degree of success
in, his late charge. There may or may not have been an air of
proprietorship in her manner; she was frank and free of speech, at any
rate; and so the flame of interest was fanned ever to a brighter
blaze.
The reader can hardly be expected to sympathize with the great
excitement in Longport society when it was known that the new minister
had engaged board with Mrs. Lunn for an indefinite time. There was
something very puzzling in this new development. If there was an
understanding between them, then the minister and Mrs. Lunn were
certainly somewhat indiscreet. Nobody could discredit the belief that
they had a warm interest in each other; yet those persons who felt
themselves most nearly concerned in the lady's behavior began to
indulge themselves in seeing a ray of hope.