a candidate for the church ; that he felt the honor of his
family disgraced, and demanded of my husband instant sat-
isfaction. Your brother referred him to me, saying that it
was my maid who had committed the offence, a sly way
men always have of getting themselves out of trouble, and
I suppose on that occasion congratulated himself on the pos-
session of a wife ; at any rate, I had a hard task to keep the
peace, the parties being so very pugnacious. Issaline insist-
ed upon examining my trunks and bureaus^ and discovered
that a superb gold watch of mine had also disappeared.
Things then began to confirm the suspicions I had expressed,
and my dream seemed to have taken a tangible form. The
watch was of remarkable workmanship and beauty, a pres-
ent to me, and extremely valuable for the donor's sake, and
was also very costly.
' As soon as your brother got out again, 1 accompanied
him to an officlars office, to make a statement of my loss,
and the gentleman being in bed with a cold, we were invited
408 THE BARCLAYS
into his chamber. Such a bed ! I really think it was in-
tended to accommodate his whole family, so immense was
its size. He was lying in state, the sheets and pillow-cases
trimmed with rich lace, the counterpane magnificent, two
common wooden chairs and a table completing the furniture.
I related my story, and he wrote to the governor of Rome,
who ordered a number of the police to search Domenico's
house, which was in a village ten miles from the city.
Nothing was found. There was in this place one jeweller's
shop, and that was searched also ineffectually, so my hus-
band renounced all idea of ever regaining my watch.
' The evening before I left Rome I took Antonio aside,
and told him I was convinced that his nephew had stolen my
watch ; that I knew him to be a very shrewd person, and
depended upon him to find it ; that a sufficient reward had
already been offered, but that he should be additionally paid
if the missing article were restored. As to his nephew be-
ing a person studying for the church, I did not believe a
syllable of the story, for the work of my kitchen was no pre-
paratory step to such an important situation. Antonio talked
very loud, but I told him to keep still, and look out sharply
after my watch.
' We left Rome the next day, and in six weeks from that
time I received my precious watch safe and sound, a long
and most grateful epistle from Antonio, and such a quantity
of documents from the police officers as was certainly amaz-
ing all respecting the recovery and restoration of my time-
piece. Domenico had stolen it, and when he knew we had
quhted Rome, he offered it for sale, and Antonio, watching
and waiting, pounced upon his prey.
' I must, by way of explanation, just tell you how I came
to have such a good view of Domenico's doings in Issaline's
chamber. All the doors in our Roman lodgings were covered
with green baize, and so shrunken that light and sounds were
freely admitted, and they, moreover, were excessively capri-
cious, sometimes remaining shut for a week and baffling all
OF BOSTON. 409
our united efforts to open them, and then no human force
could close them. Fortunately for me, it was their shutting
up time, and Issaline, when she left her chamber for her
dinner-table dormitory, took the key of my door with her.
Domenico had somehow, nobody could answer why, taken
up his abode in our kitchen, as scullion, under the distin-
guished patronage of his uncle, and Issaline had found him,
on the morning of my adventure, in my chamber, and threat-
ened to broomstick him, she said, for the offence. It is
probable he then stole the watch.
' I assure you I was triumphant when I saw my watch,
unbelievers being scattered to the winds. I now wish, my
dear sister, most solemnly to assert that I have not, even in
one solitary instance, invited my husband to accompany me
in any " sight-seeing " here, in consequence of his illness in
Rome ; and desire you will remember that he has never
once failed to go whh me on all my excursions. I embrace
you all, and shall have the happiness to see you shortly.
' Yours in love and affection. ' Fanny.'
' P. S. Your brother requests me to inform you all, with
his best love, that this is no traveller's tale, but a veracious
chronicle, and that he considers it to comprise all the pure
elements of Italian life fleas, fright, and felony. F.'
The Barclays were made very happy just after the recep-
tion of Aunt Fanny's letter, by the advent of a tiny creature.
Mrs. Sanderson had presented her husband with a son,
whom it was instantly decided was to bear his grandfather's
name of John Barclay. Charley Sanderson, every body
had called him so, married or single, was beside himself
with joy, and expected every one should congratulate him.
Mrs. Barclay became intensely busy with caudle, and the
grandpapa seemed almost as much enchanted as the parents.
But Johnny felt himself half a foot taller when he command-
ed every body to call him uncle ; and Nursey Bristow de-
35
410 THE BARCLAYS
dared that such a child had never been seen in the world
before. Georgy and Mrs. Meredith longed more earnestly
than ever for dear Aunt Fanny's arrival, that she might pro-
nounce her opinion on the wondrous charms of the little
stranger. And Mr. and Mrs. Richard Barclay made their
appearance once more amidst their affectionate friends ; he
in great spirits and high glee, she prettier and better dressed
than ever. They had brought home for all their family and
friends innumerable presents, and had all manner of inter-
esting things to tell of the countries they had visited and the
people they had seen, and were an immense addition to
many other families besides that of their relatives.
Mr. Richard persisted in returning thanks for his restora-
tion to a land in which there was nothing to be seen, and
professed himself delighted to arise in the morning without
a load of sights on his mind ; but still he seemed to have
not forgotten the most insignificant of the foreign shows. In
France he had been disappointed, and thought all things
changed, and not at all for the better ; and it was observed
that he certainly did not quote that country in the same en-
thusiastic manner as had been his custom before his depar-
ture. He declared his whole family had got their heads
turned by a little baby, and yet he stole into Mrs. Sander-
son's nursery very often himself, and looked the least bit in
the world ashamed when he was found there. Altogether
the Benedict conducted himself remarkably well, and a
happier couple were rarely seen.
Miss Tidmarsh, who had roundly asserted that the evident
improvement in his manners which had developed itself on
his marriage, would never last, disliked immensely to hear
any mention of Mr. and Mrs. Richard Barclay's well-being.
This, however, she was doomed to hear and survive, if she
could, for their house became once more, as it had always
been, the resort of all the pleasant people in the city, and as
they and their friends were always made welcome, nothing
was more frequently remarked upon than its manifold attrac-
OF BOSTON. 411
tions. Indeed, there were found persons bold enough to
assert, even in Miss Serena's presence, that it was more
agreeable than ever since Mrs. Ashley had married Mr.
Richard Barclay. This being vastly more than that amia-
ble YOUNG person could reasonably endure, she instantane-
ously quarrelled with * the bears' friends, and, in fact, had
so many little affairs of this kind on her hands, that her
visiting list became sadly diminished in numbers. There
was a rumor abroad, that many of her acquaintances
friends she had none took this method of ridding them-
selves of Miss Serena Tidmarsh.
412 THE BARCLAYS
CHAPTER XL VIII.
Although thou mauii never be mine,
Although even hope is denied ;
'Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
Than aught in the world beside.'
BUKNS.
Mr. Barclay having been successfully brought to the
culminating point of his career, when, surrounded by his
children and friends, in the possession of tlie undying affec-
tion of his cherished wife, in the full enjoyment of the good
things of this world, and the perfect assurance of the dis-
charge of his duties, he may be safely left with the convic-
tion that his lines are cast in pleasant places. As belonging
to the time-honored race of Boston merchants, he has nobly
sustained their acknowledged reputation for probity, upright-
ness and benevolence ; he has ever been the orphan's
friend ; has encouraged the youth of his time, and solaced
and consoled the widow. Adored by his family, loved and
respected by his townsmen, he seems destined to pursue
the peaceful tenor of his way, for the residue of his exist-
ence, in the moral sunshine which he has created around
him to gild the evening of his days. Art and science having
been fostered and cherished by his untiring and persevering
efforts, he enjoys the perfect satisfaction of beholding the
felicitous results of his own good works in the persons of
those whom liis own right hand has raised from poverty and
de])ression, weariness ;ind faint-heartcdness to absolute pros-
perity, and they arise and bless him. Mr. Barclay's whole
OF BOSTON. 413
character may be then summed up in three words A good
citizen.
' How blest is he who crowns iu scenes like these
A youth of labor with an age of ease.'
Mrs. Barclay, from having cordially aided and assisted
her noble husband in his admirable efforts, and deferring to
him in the important events of her existence, has succeeded
in producing these felicitous results, and has proved herself
worthy the happiness of sharing her destiny with a truly good
man.
Mr. Richard Barclay, subdued, and consequently improved
by the gentler teachings and gentler influence of his amia-
ble and pleasing wife, certainly promises not to relapse into
his old misanthropic ways, and is in a fair way to renounce
entirely his fault-finding and grumbling habits, which is con-
sidered by his friends as quite miraculous, and a vast im-
provement in that gentleman's character.
Mrs. Sanderson has sold the old house, and bitterly she
deplored at the time the necessity of such a proceeding ;
but the estate becoming, by the increase of the population
and growth of the city, so immensely valuable, she became
a most wealthy widow instanter, and immediately received
several proffers of marriage, containing the usual hypocrit-
ical protestations of affection with which fortune-hunters
attack ladies of a certain age. But she was altogether too
wise to be snared by such stratagems, and, never forgetting
the husband of her young days, her beatified vision of per-
fectibility, she with studied dignity declined the false pre-
tences of her quondam adorers, thereby bestowing upon
them each ' a Roland for an Oliver.'
Gerald and Charley refusing decidedly any participation
in their mother's newly acquired wealth, begged her to pur-
chase a handsome house near her friends, to open it, and
receive them hospitably, and enjoy the good fortune which
85*
414 THE BARCLAYS
had SO opportunely fallen upon her, and to their Avishes she
cheerfully acceded.
It was a long while before Peter and Dinah and Tiger
the third could be at all reconciled to the small square of
earth, to which they were consigned by this change in their
domicil ; indeed, these poor creatures were almost heart-
broken. Dinah's lamentations and interrogatories as to the
getting up of a washing-day in a nutshell, how the linen
was ever to be thoroughly dried, how she was ever again
to whiten a counterpane, were marvellously affecting; and
Peter found no space and verge for any thing. The good
old times were evermore in their mouths, and the gas and
kitchen ranges considered perfect abominations, such thor-
ough conservatives were they. ]\Irs. Sanderson was, at one
time, quite alarmed, for Dinah's health and strength seemed
absolutely declining; but, fortunately, there lived in the
neighborhood a ^Methodist clergyman of great renown
amongst the colored population; she happened to know him,
and narrating to him the sad state of her servant's mind, he
kindly lent himself to the dispelling and ejecting of these
thick-coming fancies from Miss Dinah's brain, and the good
creature was restored to her pristine state of equanimity.
3Irs. Sanderson also deeply felt the deprivation of the old
house and garden, and sorely wept when she bclield the
beautiful flowers and venerable trees struck to the earth by
the ruthless hands of the ' improvers.' Gerald managed to
transplant one of her idols clandestinely, and place it in the
corner of the patch she now called her own. This kind act
was highly ap[)rovcd by his mother, who embraced and
thanked him most gratefully; the tree having been one she
had herself planted in her girlish days.
Gerald continues to live with his mother, to live and love
on. It is generally believed that unrequited affection evan-
esces and decays, without sustenance. May not a suspicion
of the real truth have dawned upon his hitherto benighted
mind with regard to Georgiana .' This is mere conjecture ;
OF BOSTON. 415
he has seen * lovers around her sighing,' and the woman
who still holds his affections in thrall, has waived them from
lier presence, and will none of them, may he not have
thereby conceived a suspicion that the heart of the beloved
one is occupied ? ' Man never is, but always to be blest.'
Perchance, the young lover may enjoy as great a share of
happiness under ' this pleasing delusion, this flattering unc-
tion,' as if he had really obtained the object of his idola-
try, and gone forth to share with her the changes and the
chances of this sublunary sphere. At least, what comes to
him henceforth in the saddened guise of sorrow's garb will
be endured alone, and this to many is a vast source of con-
tentment. To deeply impressible hearts the sharing of
troublous days and gloomy hours with loved ones gives no
consolation whatever ; they send forth the joys and pleas-
ures of their lives for all to share, opening wide their por-
tals when flooded with sunshine, but closing them fast and
firm when dark clouds lower.
Fortune smiles on Gerald Sanderson in all beside. He is
fast rising in his profession, and from principle has become
deeply engrossed therein ; he works, occupies himself, and
rejects manfully all gloomy retrospection, but he has no pleas-
ing hope for the future on earth. His dreams have vanished,
his youth is gone ; it is an old man who lives in the person
of the young and handsome Gerald Sanderson ; 'he has died
many deaths in fearing one.' This he truly believes, and
much more besides. But will not time, the assuager, disa-
buse him ? ^Vill he not be subject to its influence with his
fellow-men ? and time alone can tell. At any rate, there
is hope though he rejects it, just so long as he firmly resists,
ana, looking his fortunes sternly in the face, upholds himself
below, trusting to a higher Source above for consolation.
His mother! She is a guardian angel to him, in his some-
times fitful moods ; 'tis she who brings him home from
his fancied flights, which will even, though repelled and
scorned, still assail him. Gerald regards these visionary
416 THE BARCLAYS
dreams as the source of all his misfortunes, and manfully
exerts himself to cast them off; he loathes them, conse-
quently their recurrence becomes less and less frequent, and
soon they will entirely disappear. Gerald's is an onward
and upward path ; the law an exacting mistress, rebelling
against all romance and castle-building.
Charles Sanderson, 'tis time to drop the Charley, now
that he is a respectable head of a family, is supremely
happy ; his lovely wife shares the felichy. The tiny bit
baby is so wonderful in their eyes, that they assert, twenty
times a day, ' there never was such a child ever before
seen,' and no one openly contradicts them, though Miss Tid-
marsh declares aside that all babies are hideous, and this
one particularly so. Mr. Johnstone is enchanted with this
novelty, and is only puzzled to know what to give the little
creature. He is, however, constantly ordering silver cups
and whistles, and other knicknacks ; and he lives much more
with the young mother than at home, and takes lessons
in nursery discipline.
Mr. Meredith devotes his life to good works, in which his
wife, falsifying all the predictions launched forth at her mar-
riage, nobly assists him, eliciting the admiration of her hus-
band, and by far surpassing his fondest hopes and aspirations.
Mrs. Meredith is charmingly gay as ever, her ebullitions
only a little tempered by the discretion gathered from a
source she so entirely respects, her own most excellent
husband ; she never tires of well-doing. It thus appears
that a judicious direction of her enthusiastic spirit into
proper channels, has completed and perfected what, under
other circumstances, might have proved a very unequal
character, to say the least. Watched and guided, she gives
a fair promise of becoming a most superior woman ; the
performance of her parochial duties being really extraordi-
nary. She always declares, in her usual frank manner, that
it was the most blessedly fortunate period of her life, when
Mr. Meredith turned his loving eyes to the thoughtless and
OF BOSTON. 417
inconsiderate Dolly. Mr. and Mrs. Barclay regard Mr.
Meredith as the benefactor of their child, and fully appre-
ciate the remarkable change he has effected in her charac-
ter. Mr. Meredith declares, however, that the germs of all
this excellence were lying hidden, requiring only to be
brought forth through the affections, and that his wife is
becoming every day more and more discreet and matronly ;
in which opinion his fastidious parish fully concur.
Robert Redmond has returned home, bringing with him
his wife, who proves a most agreeable addition to the society
of his native city ; his young sister, very much improved by
her travels ; and his mother with such a wardrobe ! and an
incomparable lady's maid. Mrs. Redmond is now more
helpless than ever, but she has no housekeeping. Mrs.
Robert takes that incumbrance off her hands, if any it ever
were, and the above mentioned French soubrette keeps her
most artistically and critically arrayed in the last Parisian
fashions; and by dint of keeping up an eternal chattering
in her mistress's ears, has taught her a curious admixture of
broken French ; and she wades through interminable vol-
umes of George Sand, Eugene Sue, and Alexander Dumas
in their original tongue, no longer discussing the transla-
tions, and all this she gained by her foreign tour.
Mrs. Dionysius Hornblower followed her family shortly
after. There never was too much of the little Benedict
before his marriage, and that event had apparently ab-
stracted an integrant part of his outer man ; for such a
nonentity, morally and physically, had never before been
exhibited. But he was a Southerner, and finding the snow
wreaths taller than himself, and that many people thought
his syntax required reforming, he, for the first time in his
marital condition, ' spoke out,' and avowed his fixed deter-
mination to leave Boston. Tliis was asserted, to be sure,
with fear and trembling, but still the mighty words were
uttered, and Jane feared the consequences to her frail part-
ner if she remained; so she left and emigrated to Florida.
418 THE BARCLAYS
Johnny Barclay, now an aspirant for high-heel " boots,
says that, if Mr. Hornblower has found a wife, he thinks
his own chance is not a bad one, and shall govern himself
accordingly.
Mr. Gordon has just been elected to a high official station,
which gratifies his wife immensely, and himself not a little.
Mrs. Rosevelt still continues firm in the faith that sailor's
wives are the happiest women in the world.
Captain Williams received from the Italian woman's
husband a most grateful letter, and a present in money,
which vastly reconciled Mrs. Betsy to that person, whom, by
the bye, she has never seen, and never wishes to behold.
And Georgiana Seaton, will she marry Gerald Sander-
son ? This is a question so often mooted in her circle that
it is worn threadbare, and yet is of constant recurrence.
The shade of the lost husband too frequently passes between
the young and widowed creature and her lover, overwhelm-
ing her with sorrow, all the more heavily since she feels
obliged to conceal it. It is, in fact, a mixed emotion ; an
undefined sentiment which prevents the entire expansion of
Georgiana's love for Gerald. She acknowledges this love to
herself and her mother, but at the same time protests she
can never marry the object of her affection. She declares
that a passion so pure and disinterested as his, demands the
possession of a virgin heart, a first love; and that she
cannot bestow, and she does not believe that her lover would
rest satisfied with what she can offer in return for the wealth
of affection which he would lavish upon her, however he
might be persuaded to the contrary ; but that time would
certainly disabuse him of his illusions, and inevitable un-
happiness would ensue.
We must all, she thinks, have in this world something to
love and cherish. She has her parents, her family, and
friends ; her interests will in time all centre completely in
these attractive objects, and Gerald Sanderson will find a
partner to share his lot who can entirely respond to his
OF BOSTON. 419
ardent and enthusiastic nature ; whereas with himself there
would be an aching void in his breast, a rankling wound^
hidden, at first, but ever ready to be probed to the quick at
the slightest suspicion of a diminution of her affection. To
this conclusion she has come at last, that marriage is not an
all-important and essential portion of woman's happiness.
There are other fields in which to seek it, and those should
be tried in all cases where doubts and fears predominate.
No shadow should ever fall upon the marriage vow.
But above all, she religiously believes that having deviated
from the path of rectitude, having erred in her relations with
her beloved parents, she is bound to make all possible expi-
ation and devote her life to them. She has then decided^
irrevocably, she thinks, that she shall not unite her destiny
with the man of her choice ; and when a New England
woman comes to a fixed determination conscientiously, there
is little room for change. Upon other grounds, opinions and
high resolves may be susceptible of variation, but a resolu-
tion based upon such all-dominant principles as conscience
and duty combined, is sure to be considered as indestructi-
ble ; and it may be then fairly concluded, that, clinging to
her own happy home, the young creature, whose trials have
engrossed a large portion of this simple Boston story, will
forever remain the affectionately devoted daughter, Georgi-
ana Seaton.
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