Part 25

William shut himself up in his room, and would see no one. Perhaps as he went back over the circumstances of his married life, he felt some self-reproach and some misgiving that he had not always been the kindest and most considerate of husbands—that it would have been better if he had been willing to cramp his fancy and genius a little and work steadily at a respectable calling, instead of quarrelling with his employers and allowing his wife to waste almost her last breath in music lessons. Perhaps he thought that the things he had been spending, time and money upon (thinking himself all the time much superior to his poor Abby) would not weigh a grain when laid in the balance against her self-sacrificing industry. It is at least charitable to hope so. He left M. a few days after his wife was buried, to pay a visit to his mother, having first borrowed fifty dollars of Mr. Merton, who was very kind to him at parting, and very glad to get rid of him so cheaply.

He left Emma in Olive's charge, with proper expressions of gratitude and confidence, which she could very well have dispensed with, and begged her to keep Abby clothes and ornaments for the child and not let her forget her father. "I think she is very bright," was his last remark. "I hope she may turn out talented."

"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Olive when he was out of hearing. "I would rather she would turn out almost any thing else."

"Talents do nobody any harm, my dear Olive, when they are rightly improved, and the character properly cultivated," said Mrs. Merton, who overheard her. "But when a man thinks that because he can do a little of a good many things very easily and likes to amuse himself with books and pictures, that he is a genius and that therefore he is excused from hard work and from doing any thing that he does not like; when he once accepts the supposition that he has a right to please himself and that every one else is bound to work for him—why, I would give more for any little Dutch child that is taught to work at four years old, by picking up chips while its father saws wood."

Walter came up to the funeral, as did Mr. Witherington and Laura, so that the family were once more all together. Laura seemed very much subdued, and every way improved. She would gladly have taken the little Emma herself, but Olive would not hear of such a thing, and indeed aunt Merton seemed to want her more than any body. She should keep her till Olive was married, she declared, and then they would see what was to be done.

She hoped matters might be so managed that Olive might be settled near them. Mrs. Merton had her own reasons for hoping so, though she thought best to keep them to herself. Their parish church had long been full and crowded to overflowing, and some of the families who lived most distant from church, Mrs. Merton's among the number, began to think of colonizing and establishing a new parish nearer at hand. It was not likely that the movement would be carried into effect before spring. Mr. Merton had great influence among his friends and neighbors, every one liked Olive, and there seemed no reason why Olive's husband should not take charge of the new chapel, as soon as it was built and he was ordained.

It was only since her niece had been away from her, that Mrs. Merton had learned to appreciate her—for in reality she had never really done Olive justice while she was at home. Her very quick feelings and somewhat irritable temper, as well as a certain diffidence which sometimes looked like sullenness, made her appear at a great disadvantage by the side of poor Abby, who was always gentle, cheerful, and tractable, and laid her open to constant defeats in her frequent skirmishes with Charlotte, who usually contrived to throw the blame of the quarrel upon her. Mrs. Merton thought her own daughter hasty, but open and generous, and she had never been able to believe that Olive really was so.

But the spirited yet judicious and respectful way with which Olive had asserted her right to support herself, and the entirely noble manner in which she had come out of the affair of poor Abby's miserable marriage, had acquired for her upon the part of her aunt, a respect which every thing she did contributed to strengthen, and Mrs. Merton no sooner began to respect any one than she began to like them. She felt too, that she had done Olive injustice, and she was anxious to make it up to her by every means in her power. It would have pleased her better undoubtedly, if her niece had made a more splendid match, but she saw that she and Walter were very well suited to each other, that he was a talented, industrious, and steady young man, and she felt that under such circumstances she had no right to interfere. The course he had taken about studying for the ministry had displeased her very much at first, but she gradually learned to regard it with more favor as she saw how entirely he was fitted for the profession he had chosen. As she said to Mr. Merton, it was plain that Mr. Landon would do his best in whatever he undertook, and would never be any thing but a credit to those connected with him.

Walter's stay was a short one, but before he left M. it was settled that Olive was to be married in the spring as soon after her lover's ordination as he should be settled anywhere. Meantime, she was to remain at Mrs. Merton's, except that she intended to make a visit to Basswoods some time during the fall. Mrs. Merton again began to turn her attention to sheeting and linen, and made numerous long shopping excursions, which resulted in such a quantity of brown paper parcels that the Miss Willets who lived opposite, thought Mrs. Merton must be thinking of setting up a shop.

Over the contents of these bundles did Mrs. Merton and Charlotte hold long and solemn consultations, to which Olive was sometimes admitted and sometimes not. She was not to be allowed to make herself thin and ill with sewing, Mrs. Merton pronounced, so she was only allowed to do the very lightest parts of the work, the rest having been committed to a seamstress renowned for skill and the mysteries of the needle. Olive would have remonstrated at the quantity and quality of the articles lavishly provided, but Mrs. Merton had a plea which stopped all remonstrances.

"You know, my dear, that we always intended to provide for you both as if you were our own, and since poor dear Abby did not have her share, you must take a double portion."

Abby died the last of September, and it was not until the end of November that Olive felt any spirits for her intended visit to Basswoods. She carried an invitation from her aunt to little Louisa to come home with her and spend the holidays, with which she was very well pleased, thinking that the child would be both gratified and benefited by the change. She found Helen completely established in her old quarters, and to all appearance likely to become as much of a favorite in the place as she herself had been. Every one was pleased with her, Ruth said, except Mrs. Tucker, who had wished to obtain the place for Melissa.

It was rather trying to Olive to be obliged to listen to Mrs. Felton's expressions of sympathy, for that lady always seemed to suffer under a fear that her friends would not appreciate the extent of their misfortunes. If she visited a mother who had lost her child, she would insist upon inquiring into all the circumstances of the little one's sickness and death, and related all the cases in any degree similar which had come within her knowledge. Nothing offended her more than to have any one intimate to her that this sort of conversation was ill-timed; she set that person down at once as unfeeling and wicked, and she had never quite forgiven Mr. Gregory for somewhat abruptly dismissing her from Augusta's room at the time that her little girl died.

Ruth seemed entirely unaltered, except that her cheerfulness had a certain subdued character, and that she talked less. She seemed to take as much interest as ever in all her old pursuits, and she and Augusta were still reading German together. Frederick's collection had been arranged by them in the library of the academy, and formed quite a valuable cabinet of natural history. The little property he had brought home with him was left to his parents for their life-time; at their death to be equally divided between Ruth and Augusta.

This arrangement disappointed Mrs. Felton, who had made up her mind that Ruth was to turn out an heiress, and who had built several castles in the air upon this foundation, but all the other parties interested were more than satisfied. Mrs. Felton could not understand what a clergyman could want with so much money. Their house was furnished well enough—some people thought too well for a minister—and what any one could want of so many books was more than she could see. Why, the parish library contained more volumes than were to be found in the whole country when she was a girl, and she did not perceive that any one was the better for it. Nobody ever thought any thing of what she said, however. The parish library went on increasing no one exactly knew how, while the comeliness of the sanctuary was increased by various repairs and improvements till it became one of the prettiest in the country.

If Olive met with some annoyances in the course of her visit, the pleasures greatly counterbalanced them. Every one was glad to see her. The first time she entered the school-room, she was nearly devoured by the kisses of the girls, while Helen looked on smilingly, above the jealousy which some people would have felt upon such an occasion. Mr. Prendergrass actually left the regions below, and came up-stairs to speak to her, though such a thing as the principal entering the young ladies' department had never been known in the Rev. Mr. Snowden's time.

Olive saw at once that Helen was likely to succeed—all the girls liked her and she evidently liked them, without being finical or fussy about little things, she was sufficiently strict, and she required the most perfect recitations at the same time that she took pains to make those recitations lively and interesting. Several of the larger girls, including Anna Jones and Julia Goodrich, had left school, though they still came two or three times a week to draw and read French, and Helen told Olive that their influence and example had been of great use to her. They were a good deal looked up to by the younger set, who seeing them take pride in being good scholars and punctual in their attendance, were naturally more inclined to be so, too.

Upon the whole, the tone of the school had improved very much during the three years it had been under Olive's care. The standard of scholarship was higher, there was much less gossiping and consequently much less quarrelling among the girls, and a better state of morals prevailed altogether.

Olive could not but be thankful that it had not fallen into the hands of another Miss Brown, who would undo in one quarter all that she had accomplished. It was hard for her to leave Basswoods, where she had spent so many happy hours, and where she had first known Walter. Every house and street-corner in the curious old place was dear to her—yes, even the haunted old red house, to which she and the girls persisted in walking one Saturday afternoon, despite Mrs. Felton's grave remonstrances. Olive took a sketch of it, which that lady declared she would not have hanging up in her room for any thing; it was all very well for people not to be superstitious, but she did think there was such a thing as presumption. She appealed to Mr. Gregory to know if this last remark was not true, and his grave assent made her almost forget his want of appreciation for her sympathy.

Olive's stay was prolonged from day to day, and from week to week, till at last she hardly left herself time to return before the holidays.

Louisa enjoyed her visit at Mrs. Merton's very much, and won all hearts by her merriment and docility. She received more pretty presents than she ever had before. Mr. Merton took great pleasure in showing her all the lions of the city. Mrs. Dimsden made a children's party for her, and Olive feared the little girl's head would be turned entirely. She did not think it best for her to stay longer than a fortnight, as it was not desirable that she should lose her standing in school. And she returned with Walter, feeling that she had subjects enough of thought and conversation to last her all winter.

Helen wrote that Louisa had settled down to her studies as well as was to be expected, and that she seemed to think Mrs. Merton's home the very "ne plus ultra" of magnificence, and Mrs. Merton herself a sort of superior being.

But the winter was not destined to pass without further sorrow. The little Emma, who had always seemed a healthy child, was taken suddenly ill, not long after Louisa's visit, and despite all that could be done, died on the fourth day. She was insensible most of the time, and seemed to suffer but little. She had never seemed to Mrs. Merton like a child that was likely to grow up, but more like one of those little angels who are sent to earth, to show what the Saviour meant when He said: "Of such is the kingdom of heaven." Her extraordinary precocity, her perfect docility, and almost unearthly beauty, had always been in her aunt's eyes so many signs that her pilgrimage on earth would be a short one.

Mammy thought so too.

"Her mother keeps calling her," she said to Olive one day. "She won't be here long, Miss. Most every time I watch her asleep, I see her smile and hold up her hands, and I know her mother calls her."

Though Olive had something of the same feeling, the baby's death was a bitter disappointment to her. Yet when she was calm enough to think the matter all over, she was constrained to say it was well. William would undoubtedly marry again, and even if he did not, she well knew there was no dependence to be placed upon him—that he would be very likely to take a fancy to remove Emma from her charge after a while. Nevertheless, she missed the little creature sadly. And for a long time, the sight of a child of Emma's age would bring the tears into her eyes.

A message was sent to Mr. Forester at the first appearance of danger, but he only arrived in time for the funeral. He remained two or three days at Mr. Merton's, occupied in selecting his own books from among Abby's, and in burning her letters and papers. As we shall have nothing further to do with that gentleman, we may as well say here that within a year from Emma's death, he married a wealthy young lady, an heiress, who had been first attracted to him by "The Widower's Lament," which was published with an appropriate vignette, and greatly admired as displaying such a depth of feeling.

The present Mrs. Forester is not in the least like Abby, possessing upon the contrary good deal of decision of character and some sharpness of tongue on occasions. Nevertheless, she is in the main an estimable person, and as she took the precaution before she was married of having all her property secured upon herself, it is to be hoped that Mr. Forester may loiter away the rest of his life without doing a great deal more mischief.

His sister Emma has married late in life a very excellent man in good circumstances greatly to the astonishment of her mother and Emmeline, who have a great deal to say about Emma's selfishness and ingratitude in leaving them, after all they had done for her. William sympathizes with them and says that Emma was always narrow-minded.

Mr. Landon's ordination came on early in March, and Mrs. Merton took Olive down to New-York to be present at it. The new parish was organized by this time, and when Walter came up on a visit to Mrs. Merton's, he was invited to fill the vacant pulpit for several Sundays.

Olive thought the severest ordeal through which she had ever been called upon to pass was hearing Walter's first sermon. But with all her fears and misgivings, she could not but feel that it had been all she could wish. Every one else seemed to think so too, for at the end of the six weeks for which he had been invited to take charge of the parish, a formal call was tendered to him to become the pastor of the new church.

For his own part, he would have preferred to make his first essay in a country congregation. But he knew how anxious Olive's friends were to have her settled near them, and how kindly Mr. Merton had exerted himself to procure this place for him; so, as there was really no good reason for refusing, he accepted the call, and was formally installed in the sacred office. The salary was sufficiently liberal, he had something of his own, and there seemed to be no reason why the engagement between him and Olive should be prolonged.

It was not prolonged beyond the first of June. Olive had sent for Augusta and Ruth to come up and bring Louisa with them, and they accepted the invitation. Louisa and Charlotte were to be bridesmaids, and the former mounted her first long dress upon the occasion.

The wedding was a very quiet one, the deep mourning of the family forming a ready excuse for having no company, though Mrs. Dimsden thought the fact of Olive's being the minister's wife ought to have outweighed it. Abundance of cake and cards were sent out by Mrs. Merton next day, and no one was dissatisfied except Mammy, who thought the affair was not half grand enough, though she admitted that it was very genteel.

The new-married pair went down to make a short visit at Mrs. Witherington's. She was staying at the Briars, and welcomed them with her usual cordiality and grace. Olive liked the country-house better than the town-house. It was more quiet, the furniture was all old-fashioned, and looked as if it might have been there since the old French war, and indeed much of it had retained its place since the Revolution. The gardens and conservatories were splendid, and Mr. Witherington seemed perfectly happy in walking through them, giving directions to the gardener or holding consultations with him over some delicate grape-vine or sickly-looking pear-tree.

Laura frankly confessed that she had at first detested Briars, and only came there in compliance with the wishes of her husband, who was very fond of the place.

"But do you know I am really beginning to like it? The mornings were terribly long at first, till I took to practising violently. Mr. Witherington likes Beethoven and Mendelssohn, and I am learning all the old-fashioned things I can pick up to please him. I think it is little enough, as long as he is so indulgent to me. We ride out on horseback almost every day, and you know I was always fond of that. There are some very pleasant people within visiting distance, and upon the whole I like it almost as well as New-York."

"I suppose you will return to the city in winter," said Olive.

"Oh! Yes, but I assure you I shall not be so dissipated as I was last year. I am beginning to think that there are other things in the world besides company and dress. I shall never forget what dear Abby said to me that last day. But tell me all about your plans, my dear. Are you going directly to housekeeping?"

"Oh! Yes, I think it is best to begin as one means to keep on. I never believed in young married people boarding, and it is especially inconvenient for a minister. We shall have a very pleasant house—the one Mr. Fairfax built for Jenny, you know. The church, when it is built, will be just next door. I left Mammy planning about carpets and curtains as happy as possible."

"She and Edward will have hard work deciding to which house they belong—won't they?"

"I don't know," replied Olive laughing; "I think the Black Prince thinks that I am hardly able to take care of myself. Aunt has kindly promised to spare me Anne, so I shall have no trouble with servants to begin with."

After a short stay in Basswoods, where Olive received so many bridal presents as to materially increase her baggage, Mr. and Mrs. Landon returned to M. to find her house all prepared for them, with tea ready, Louisa looking out for them, and Anne in attendance.

The beautiful china which decorated the table, was at once recognized by Olive as part of a set upon the merits of which Laura had asked her opinion one day when they were in New-York. The house was elegantly but not splendidly furnished, though Louisa thought nothing had ever been seen more beautiful than the dark-green and crimson carpets and rosewood chairs. She could hardly allow her sister-in-law time to take off her bonnet, so anxious was she to display the contents of closets, book-cases, drawing-room, and study, and especially her own little room with its blue and white bed, table, and chairs all to match, and its little book-case and desk, which Mrs. Merton said was to be all her own. It was not till she had done the honors of the whole house that she remembered that her brother and sister might possibly like something to eat after their ride.

They had hardly finished their tea before a ring was heard, and in came Mrs. Merton and Charlotte, closely followed by aunt Dimsden, all anxious to see Olive, and know how she liked her new house. Mrs. Merton was in her most gracious mood, and Louisa listened with blushing delight to her commendation of her own conduct during her brother's absence. The house had again to be passed in review; and the presents of friends to be discussed and praised. The silk quilt which Olive had brought from Basswoods, and upon which Anna and Phebe Jones had been employed for a year previous, was displayed and admired, as well as Mrs. Felton's knit counterpane, Ruth's beautiful embroidery, and Augusta's Chinese screens and tea-trays. Charlotte thought Olive would have to have a fancy-fair to get rid of the quantities of book-marks, pen-wipers, glove-boxes, and other small articles presented by the younger part of the congregation.

"Well, Olive," were Mrs. Dimsden's parting words, "you see I was right, after all. I knew you would marry a minister, and really," she concluded, glancing at Walter as she spoke, "taking all things into consideration, I doubt if you could have done better even if I had found you a husband myself."