it appears, is not to be my destiny. The fiood-gates of my
pent-up feelings are once more destroyed, and the last night
has been to me an excess of agony. I am disabused of the
consolatory illusion that a certaiu degree of serenity had
fallen upon me ; and awake to find that intense sulTcring is
henceforth to be my lot. I repeat, I cannot behold Julian
Seaton ; no good can possibly accrue to him or to me from
the interview. I feel that I could never endure it. I may be
mistaken, but I believe all the love I bore Julian is gone for-
ever. When I make to you the confession, my mother, that
I have placed my affections elsewhere, it is with no intention
of ever doing more than making this revelation of the state
of my feelings, which has, in truth, been now torn rudely
from me by force of circumstances. I shall never marry ; I
have vowed a vow to devote the rest of my days to you and
my father ; it is the least thing I can do in return for your
kindness to me. When I reflect that no reproach has ever
passed your lips or his to your erring child : that no sign
has ever been made by which 1 have had occasion even to
infer that my sad misconduct was remembered, I am over-
whelmed with gratitude for the kindness I have received at



OF BOSTON. 383

your hands. God knows how I have prayed for strength to
bear the semblance of cheerfulness in your presence, and I
am overjoyed to find that I have been successful.

' Now, my mother, I will confide to you the possessor of
my true affections. You will probably not be surprised when
I mention Gerald Sanderson. 1 know that he loves me. Of
his ignorance of my interest in him I am just as perfectly
convinced, and in that state he will ever remain. I shall
never marry him. No woman, I think, could have remained
insensible to such chivalrous devotion, and such affection so
respectfully demonstrated. I know that he has been
defending I wish I could say my fair fame for years.
I know he adores me, but I have other duties moi-e
holy, more important, and I lay my affection for him, a
holocaust on my parental altar. In no way can I better
show my sincere and deep-felt penitence.'

Mrs. Barclay tenderly embraced her child. She entered
into no argument then in the overwrought state of her
daughter's feelings touching Gerald, but trusted to time.
She knew that Julian's life-sands were fast ebbing away,
and that Georgy would be emancipated , for in that light she
was constrained to believe that her daughter would regard
his departure. She had heai'd her solemnly declare that she
would never recognise 'the deceiver;' would never live
with him ; that she forgave him ; and more could not be
demanded of her, and the mother knew that her child's de-
cision was unalterable. Mre. Barclay, when she looked
upon the radiant creature before her, was amazed as the
sternness of her nature developed itself, and the fiuxedness
of her purpose was brought to light by adverse circum-
stances.

On repeating this conversation to her husband, he shared
her astonishment, that one aY>parentiy so gentle should be
so wondrous firm. ' Ah ! ' said he, ' I tremble for poor
Gerald Sanderson ; ' in v/hieh. feeling Mrs. Barclay thor-
oughly sympathized.



384 THE BARCLAYS

On Georgiana's decision being made known to Julian
Seaton he submitted, and, declaring it to be but another
penance inflicted upon him for his sins, never again resumed
the subject. Mr. Richard was terribly incensed, and de-
clared he would give his niece ' a bit of his mind,' but was
dissuaded from his purpose by the entreaties of his amiable
wife, who was always a peace-maker.

A few days closed the earthly career of Julian Seaton.
To the last, he was overflowing with love and gratitude to
his friends. After a violent fit of coughing, they raised him
in his bed. He had just sufiicient strength left to place
his arm around Mr. Barclay's neck, and on his fostering
bosom, breathing the names of Georgiana and his mother,
he expired. The good Catholic priest had been with him
the whole day, and just as the shades of evening gath-
ei'ed round, the youthful spirit departed, having been cheered
to the last moment by religion and friendship. The funeral
ceremonies were performed in the Catholic church, all Mr.
Barclay's f\imily attending, and all the friends who had
solaced and comforted the suflierer during his illness.

In a short time Gerald Sanderson waited upon Mr. Barclay
with Julian Seaton's will. It appeared that it had been exe-
cuted a month before his decease, and that he had devised
two thousand dollars a-piecc to his Church, Mr. Richard Bar-
clay, Gerald Sanderson and his brother, Robert Redmond, the
Montinis and Captain Williams ; the residue of his fortune
being equally divided between his father and Mr. John Bar-
clay. In a codicil appended to this document, he requested
that his body might be sent to Florence and laid by the side
of his mother's. Mr. Barclay, his brother, and Gex'ald San-
derson were appointed executors.

Mr. Barclay's first wish was to resign his portion alto-
gether, but the delicacy of the arrangement disclosed itself.
Julian Imd not even mentioned his daughter's name, had
never claimed her as his wife, and in this, his dying testa-
ment, had preserved the same silence ; still he had, in all



OP BOSTON. 385

human probability, wished her to inherit his patrimony, and
being assured she would never accept it from himself, had
adopted this plan of securing it to her- Mr. Barclay be-
coming convinced of this fact from learning certain con-
versations that Julian had held with Gerald and Robert,
determined to receive the property and settle it upon Geor-
giana.

When Julian's testamentary dispositions were made known
to Mr, Richard Barclay, !ife declared his intention of pro-
ceeding to Italy with the remains of Julian Seaton, and
placing them by the side a mother whom he so idolized.
' For, besides,' said he, ' loving the poor fellow as if he
were my own son, it is worth a man's while to make a
pilgrimage to the tomb of a woman who had inspired such
love and devotion in her child's bosom ; she must have been
a rare creature indeed ! '

Mr. Barclay was much pleased with this plan, and imme-
diately sought for Captain Williams, who was just then
about to proceed to the Mediterranean in a barque of his
own. The accommodations were excellent, all being new
and fresh, and to these Mr. Barclay added every imaginable
luxury for his brother and wife ; she being entirely willing
to accompany her husband on his pious mission.

Captain Eliathan Williams, whose grief had been more
audibly expressed at the funeral than that of any other per-
son, was rejoiced to fulfil the last injunctions of his young
friend. So every thing being 'arranged, Mr. Richard Bar-
clay, with his wife, sailed for Leghorn, and as they stood on
the deck of their good vessel, the shores of their native
land receding from their sight, they beheld their affectionate
friends greeting them with cheering signals. And these
friends, as they wended their way back sadly to their homes,
looked upon the events of the last few months as a tale that
had been told, both pleasant and mournful. Pleasant, that
they had possessed the will and the power to create an
atmaspliere of lave and devotion around the departing days



386 THE BARCLAYS

of their young friend ; and melancholy, that they had just
beheld his remains borne swiftly away by the pretty argosy
then trimming its white canvas to the wind in their own
beautiful harbor. They thought of Richard Barclay, and
dwelt with intense satisfaction on his noble devotion to Julian
Seaton, renouncing his new home, where, grumbler as he
was, and ever would be, he confessed himself to enjoy pure
and unalloyed happiness ; and giving up all his newly ac-
quired comforts to cross the Atlantic, in an inclement season,
for love of the poor youth who had entwined himself around
his warm heart. And yet when they mused upon all the
endearing and excellent qualities, and the positive fascina-
tion of Julian Seaton, who had seemed to scatter ' love-
powders ' around him, they marvelled not at the sacrifice.
They prayed that prosperous gales might waft the high-
souled man to his destination, and in due time restore him
and his charming wife to their own pleasant home.

Mr. Barclay returned home, sadly missing his brother,
who, whatever his minor faults might be, was a daily bless-
ing to him. It often happens that absence, like death, swal-
lowing up all the little discrepencies of character, leaves
nothing behind save its excellences, the defects being com-
pletely forgotten in the sad blank occasioned by the depar-
ture of a relative or friend, beloved despite his faults. The
French proverb, that the absent are always in the wrong, is
hardly a correct one.

That evening was a particularly gloomy one in Mr. Bar-
clay's family. Georgy had hardly been visible for a month,
and Mrs. Meredith, every time she looked upon uncle Rich-
ard's empty chair, felt her eyes suffused with tears. ]Mrs.
Sanderson was ever pretexting some excuse to slip away
from her family to minister to her suffering sister, so that
the burthen of making things even apparently comfortable
laid upon the husbands of the ladies, who were also quite
unequal to the task. Mr. Barclay retired early, having
lately passed many sleepless nights, and the little party was
dispersed.



OF BOSTON. 887



CHAPTER XLV.



I could forgive the miserable hours
His folsehood, and his only, taught my heart;
But I cannot forgive that for his sake
My faith in good is shaken.'

L. E. L.

Mr. Barclay's family had resumed its usual routine of
existence, chequered as it so lately had been ; this was a
great comfort to him. Several of its members had received
pleasant letters from Mrs. Richard Barclay, full of renewed
interest and intense satisfaction in her present visit to Italy,
and very amusing recitals of their uncle's sayings and
doings ; but nothing from him, except a few hurried notes
when he reached Florence, respecting his melancholy errand
and other things. He had, however, long promised to write
a ponderous letter.

Some time elapsed, but at last, it came. Now an
epistolary correspondence was Mr. Richard's horror ; not
that he disliked receiving agreeable missives, for who does.'
He loathed the trouble of answering them, but nobody was
more anxious for the arrival of the mails than was he. On
the much desired, thickly folded packet being opened in full
conclave by Mrs. Barclay, she read :

' Rome, .

'I wrote you, my dear brother, from Florence, giving you
a short account of our safe arrival there, and the laying in
the tomb, by the side of his mother, of our beloved Julian.
God bless his sv/eet memory, and may I ever preserve it as



888 THE BARCLAYS

freshly in my heart as now. I could write many things on
this subject, but you know I abhor what is usually called
sentiment, and shall leave all that sort of things to my
wife.

' So here we are in the " Eternal City," which the dear
boy loved so well. I have seen the Montmis, and paid them
their legacy ; whether I get mine or not, will signify nothing
to me. They are not rich, and two thousand dollars is a vast
deal of money here. They received the sum with floods of
tears. My wife is enchanted with them, and a great intimacy
has sprung up between them.

' The sight-seeing here, Oh ! how heartly wearied I am
of it ! is as eternal as the city itself; and, as we have a
large carriage, Fanny offers two places to the Montinis in
it, and they accompany us every where, and are excellent
guides, and then they usually return to dine and pass the
evening with us. These people have told me many dis-
graceful anecdotes of that rascal, Paul Seaton, and I am
now more rejoiced than ever that I refused to receive him in
Florence, and insisted that all communications between us
should pass through the hands of my lawyers, 'tis the
only way to treat such cattle. Whatever humbug he may
write to you, answer him never a .word, he is wholly beneath
the notice of a gentleman, and is universally despised where-
ever he is known, as a dishonored gambler and miserable
creature. I absolutely sicken when I think of his wicked-
ness, deceit, and treachery to his own child, the dear angeF
now in heaven. How he came to possess such a son,
Heaven only knows. The goodness of our lost one, I think,
must have descended from his mother; Spurzheim always
held to this doctrine in similar cases. At any rate never had
poor child a worse father.

' I believe the money is all safe, thanks to the probity of
the Italian lawyers ; for Paul Seaton has tried hard enough
to grasp the whole, but quite unsuccessfully. Let us now
drop his name forever ; 'tis melancholy to think that the
earth is cumbered with such wretches.



OF BOSTON. 389

'Nothing can surpass my wife's overboiling entiiusiasm
touching Rome, save her indefatigable industry ; she works
hard all day, and talks all the evening with a host of
virtuosos, literary people, and artists. I leave them all to
her, you know she likes to ask questions, and confine my
intercourse to some sensible John Bulls, capital fellows !
who agree with me thoroughly. Now, it must be confessed
I am every day victimized, and so are they by their wives,
and that's a great comfort to me ; for Fanny almost drives
me distracted with her confounded sight-seeing friends. We
are taken by a squad of antiquaries and solemnly informed,
one day, that such and such ruins bear such and such
names, and all manner of learned authorities quoted to back
these all-important assertions ; the very next morning comes
another cohort of seers, and, carrying us to the identical
spots we visited but yesterday, tell us, most emphatical-
ly, that the preceding set were all wrong, and we must
unlearn our lesson and spell out another. I wish you could
but hear these two contending parties squabble in the even-
ings at Fanny's tea-table ; it's glorious fun ; they do every
thing but come to blows ; and what hinders them, I and my
chosen friends, the English, can never tell. Some how the
natives of the white cliffs of Albion and we Americans do
fraternize better together in foreign parts than other nations,
so we get together in corners and enjoy the sport amazingly.

' You well know what my wife is. If she were to set up
housekeeping in the desert of Arabia the Stony, she would
have a crowd round her. I'm not in the least jealous of
the antiquaries, they might be set up to frighten crows ; and
the artists and others are all well-behaved enough ; so if
this kind of thing amuses her, I'm content and never
object. But what I do rebel against forcibly is, the being
obliged to go sight-seeing, every hour in the daylight.
Sometimes she very reluctantly lets me off, but she thinks
that, as I never was here before, I must not miss a single
columbarium ; and down we go into such poky-holes and
33*



390 THE BARCLAYS

corners as I shall not attempt to describe, and I, for one of
the party, come up again to the blessed light of the sun
never a whit the wiser. Then we stand up to our knees in
mud and filth, our teeth chattering with the cold, even in
bellissima Roma, before magnificent buildings which once
had superb flights of broad marble steps to their entrances ;
now all have disappeared. There we speculate upon their
sunken condition, the why and the wherefore, and all sorts
of theories are broached and disputed, of course. The only
sensible remark I have heard made on this subject, came
from a rollicking Irishman, who turning to me, probably from
sympathy, asked what was the use of all this bother. ' No-
thing so easy,' said he, ' as to answer, Every thing grows in
this world why shouldn't the earth?' I leave you to
fancy what contemptuous looks he got from Fanny's friends
for this profane speech. Nobody ever seems to be cold, but
poor I, in these explorations of dungeons, under-ground
cliurches, and ice-houses of palaces and galleries. I pre-
sume enthusiasm keeps these idolaters warm ; for my part,
if I had any, it would all ooze out of my frozen fingers. I
try hard for a holiday, and now and then succeed, but Fanny
is generally inexorable. We have a solemn looking man of
all work who cooks our dinners amongst other things, and
excellent they are ; and, as my rule is not precisely what my
saucy niece, the Dolly, I humbly beg her pardon, Mrs.
Meredith, predicted it would be, iron, I only beg and
pray that I may return home in due season for our repasts.
And this, to do Fanny justice, is generally accorded. I
think I never, in my natural life, enjoyed a dinner as I do in
Rome, tell it not in Gath ; worn and wearied, it is the
very best thing I have in the twenty-four hours, such beef
and half-dried grapes ! All this is shockingly heretical, I
know, but you entreated me to write, and so here goes for
the truth and nothing else. I would not allow Fanny to see
this letter for worlds, as she begins to fancy Pm getting
round famously to the true faith, and would not be at all
gratified at its contents.



OF BOSTON. 391

' We shall go from here to Naples where another inevitable
compaign of sight-seeing awaits me, pity me my brother;
and then, presto ! to Paris. Once there, I am on my own
hunting-grounds and free as air, having lived there so long,
and, as my wife has also enjoyed the signal advantage of
sojourning in the capital where mortals can dispense with
happiness, she will not tease me to death to go trooping
about with her. A short stay will, I most devoutly hope,
suffice for Fanny to effect the ordering of forty-four dresses,
and to fill up the catalogue of her offerings at the shrines of
her innumerable friends on the other side of the Atlantic ;
and then, thrice blessed news ! we shall make our way out
to America, where, thank Heaven ! there is nothing to be
seen.

' God bless you, my dear brother, and all your belong-
ings. Fanny sends her best love ; kiss your wife and
daughters for their old uncle ; and box Johnny's ears, I
dare say he merits punishment for some mischief or other.

' Yours faithfully, IIiciiakd Barclay.'

This characteristic epistle created a vast deal of amuse-
ment for the assembled listeners, as uncle Richard's fas-
cinating grumbling always did. His perseveringly untir-
ing effort to make himself appear much worse than he
was, were somehow never very successful. In his short
notice of Julian they recognised their eccentric relative's
weakness.

' I'm thoroughly convinced,' said Mrs. Meredith, 'that my
dear uncle Dick is the yiost henpecked husband in all
Christendom, and will finish by earning the title of " good-
man Richard." '

' But I thought,' said her father, ' you had predicted pre-
cisely ^he reverse, some time since.'

' I know I did,' she replied, ' but I'm not so ignorant now
as I then was,' at the same time bestowing a rather sly look
upon her husband.



392 THE BARCLAYS

* Aunt Fanny,' said Mrs. Charles Sanderson, ' perfectly
understands her husband's character; certainly his wooing
was of the most mysterious nature ; nobody can deny that.
When I think of uncle Richard as a Benedict, I fancy I'm
dreaming, and yet how harmoniously he and his wife live
together.'

' All nature's difference makes all nature's peace,' said
Mrs. Barclay.

' My brother is an excellent fellow in the main,' said Mr.
Barclay ; and he looked around for Georgy, but she had
disappeared.

The mention of Julian had produced such sad and varied
emotions, that she was unable to bear the scrutiny of even
her own family. There were moments when he appeared to
her in the recesses of her memory, bearing the old guise of
' the first love,' ' the hallowed form,' and she became unable
to control her emotions ; then the impassable barrier
raised by his treachery and falsehood, her own desolation,
the years of shame and suffering she had endured, assumed
colossal proportions, and she seemed to sink completely
under them. But worst of all, her trust in mankind had been
shaken, that faith so infinitely dear to youth. It had been, she
thought, her duty to cast all remembrance of her young lover
from her, and this one word duty creates a wonder-working
effect with our New England women. It is heard all too
often, there is no doubt, and as often monstrously misappli-
ed, and also falsely embodies a vast many things irrespective
of the quality represented, making these women more re-
spectable than lovable ; but it ^as a great and beneficial
effect upon their characters when it is adopted as an im-
portant part of their natures, in the spirit and not the letter.

Georgiana had cast off the memory of Julian Seaton, and
another had usurped his place in her heart ; and so firmly
was he rooted as never to be displaced. Yet would the
sliadow of the lost one even pass between the reality, and
produce moments of acute agony ; then would she retire from



OF BOSTON. 393

her own beloved circle, and pray for strength to bear the
heavy burthen of her sorrow. These were sad and
wearisome conflicts ; they had been of rare recurrence
before his death, that melancholy event had renewed
them. She was not always sure if she had been right in
refusing to see him ; but she had believed such an act would
have been hypocritical in the extreme if she divulged not
the change in her sentiments, and what might such a terrible
revelation have produced ? Even instant death, for aught she
knew to the contrary. Her sincere forgiveness had been
freely proffered and eagerly accepted, and Julian died
ignorant that another had usurped his place in her bosom.
She felt that this secret might remain undiscovered to her
husband, so long as she absented herself, but once in his pres-
ence, it must be revealed. This young creature was blamed
and criticised for not appearing at the deathbed of her hus-
band, accused of insensibility, of hardness of heart by those
who, unaware of the secret springs of feeling by which she
was actuated, sat in judgment on her conduct. Even her
own mother had seemed, at first, to wish she would make the
effort, until, in pouring forth all the agony of her soul into
her sympathizing bosom, her daughter had convinced her
that she could not behold Julian Seaton without making the
dreaded confession. And such was Mrs. Barclay's horror of
duplicity that she felt obliged to concede that her cliild was
right, for no one could foresee, she well knew, what the con-
sequences might be of the disclosure.

From the moment of her husband's decease, Georgiana's
mind had insensibly gained a reasonable degree of com-
posure, which she was hardly willing to acknowledge even to
herself, but there were various causes combining to produce
this result, her own strong will, all hateful mystery dis-
pelled, her own fair fame re-established, the knowledge that
her youthful choice had been neither low nor mean, and, more
than all besides, Julian's ties of kindred with her mother.
She could never forgive herself, or wish any one else to do



394 THE BARCLAYS

SO, the concealment she had practised towards her excellent
parents; but she hoped to make a sufficient atonement to
them in devoting her whole existence to their welfare. Mrs.
Barclay had also abstained from seeing Julian Seaton. She
dreaded the many questions he would inevitably ask of her ;
she had pardoned his treachery, but she no more desired an
interview with him tlian did her daughter. She knew he
was surrounded by affectionate friends and countless luxuries,
and this satisfied her ; but when she had once perused his
letters, she relented, and watched over him tenderly.

' When Mr. Barclay's daughters were married, he had
settled on each fifty thousand dollars, and did the same for
Georgiana. The interest of this money was paid quarterly,
and, as she had few expenses, her charitable nature revelled
in the power of alleviating distress and dispensing her wealth
freely ; and, as she had ever possessed the signal advantage
of an admirable example in her mother in this way, her
bounties were most judiciously bestowed. She was, in fact,
a well drest ' Sister of Charity,' going about doing good in
an unostentatious manner, secretly and wisely ; she had been
schooled in affliction, and had thereby acquired habits of
self-control ; she had become thoroughly mistress of her-
self. To the world Georgiana was cheerful, and apparently
happy.

In process of time, how soon or how late, need hardly be
narrated, Gerald Sanderson preferred his suit, and poured
forth his long-concealed love, his faith and devotion to the
woman to whom he had vowed his life. Georgiana received