"I know what you say is reasonable--is just; but, dear Edward, she
is my mother, and she is alone."
I yielded to her wishes. Could I else? My letter to her mother
concluded with a respectful entreaty that she would take apartments
in our dwelling, and a chair at our table, and lessen, to this
extent, the expenses of her own establishment.
"What!" exclaimed the frenzied woman to Julia's aunt, to whom the
charge of presenting the communication was committed--"what! eat
the bread of that insolent and ungrateful wretch? Never! never!"
She flung the epistle from her with disdain; and, to confess a truth,
though, on Julia's account, I should have wished a reconciliation,
I was by no means sorry, on my own, that such was her ultimatum. I
gave myself little further concern about this foolish person, and
was happy to see that in a short time my wife appeared to recover
from the sadness and stupor which the death of her father and the
temper of her mother had naturally induced. The truth is, she had,
for so long a period previously to her marriage, suffered from the
persecutions of the latter, and moaned over the shame and imbecility
of the former, that her present situation was one of great relief,
and, for a while, of comparative happiness.
We lived in a pleasant cottage in the suburbs. A broad and placid
lake spread out before our dwelling; and its tiny billows, under
the pressure of the sweet southwestern breezes, beat almost against
our very doors. Green and shady groves environed us on three sides,
and sheltered us from the intrusive gaze of the highway; and never
was a brighter collection of flowers and blossoms clustered around
any habitation of hope and happiness before. I rented the cottage
on moderate terms, and furnished it neatly, but simply, as became
my resources. All things considered, the prospect was fair and
promising before us. Julia had few toils, and ample leisure for
painting and music, for both of which she had considerable taste;
for the former art, in particular, she possessed no small talent.