Vistas of New York

by Brander Matthews

And this was strong testimony to the brightness of the bride herself, for there was nothing else attractive in that sitting-room or in the rest of the house. The furniture was stiff and old-fashioned throughout, and the hangings were everywhere heavy and somber. The mantelpiece was of staring white marble; and on each side of this was a tall bookcase of solid black walnut highly varnished and overladen with misplaced ornament. The rectangular chairs were covered with faded maroon reps. The window curtains were of raw silk, thickly lined and held back by cords with black-walnut tassels. The least forbidding object in the room was a shabby little desk, of which the scratched white paint contrasted sharply with the dull decorum of the other furniture.

The bride had brought this desk from the home of her youth to her husband’s house, and she cherished it as a possession of her girlhood. By the side of it was a low, cane-backed rocking-chair, and in this she sat herself down at last. A small rectangular package was almost under her hand on the corner of the desk; and she opened it eagerly and blushed prettily as she discovered it to contain her new visiting-cards—“Mrs. John Blackstock.” She repeated the name to herself with satisfaction at its sonorous dignity. John Blackstock seemed to her exactly the name that suited her husband, with his gentleness and his strength. Next to the cards was another package, a belated present from a schoolmate; it contained a silver-mounted calendar. She held it in her hand and counted back the days to her wedding—just twenty, and it seemed to her hardly a week. Then she remarked that in less than a fortnight it would be Thanksgiving; and she thought at once of the many blessings she would have to give thanks for this year, many more than ever before—above all, for John!

Suddenly it struck her that a year could make startling changes in a woman’s life—or even half a year. Twelve months ago in the New England mill-town where her parents lived she had no thought of ever coming to New York to stay or of marrying soon. Last Thanksgiving she had never seen John; and indeed, it was not till long after Decoration Day that she had first heard his name; and now there was a plain gold ring on her finger, and John and she were man and wife. If she had not accepted Mary Morton’s invitation she might never have met John! She shuddered at the fatal possibility; and she marveled how the long happiness of a woman’s life might hang on a mere chance. When the Mortons had asked her to go to Saratoga with them to spend the Fourth of July she had hesitated, and she came near refusing after Mary had said that Mr. Blackstock was going to be there, and that he was a widower now, and that there was a chance for her. She detested that kind of talk and thought it was always in bad taste. But then Mary Morton was a dear, good girl; and it was natural that Mr. Morton should be interested in Mr. Blackstock, since Mr. Blackstock was the head of the New York house that took all the output of the Morton mills. She had decided to go to Saratoga at last, partly because her father thought it would amuse her, and partly just to show Mary Morton that she was not the kind of girl to be thrown at a man’s head.

The morning after their arrival in Saratoga, when they were walking in Congress Park, Mary had pointed out John to her, and she remembered that he had seemed to her very old. Of course, he was not really old; she knew now that he was just forty; but she was only twenty herself, and at first sight he had impressed her as an elderly man. That evening he came over to their hotel to call on Mr. Morton, and he was presented to her. Mary had been telling her how his wife had died the summer before, and how he had been inconsolable; and so she could not help sympathizing with him, nor could she deny that he had seemed to be taken with her from the beginning. Instead of talking to Mr. Morton or to Mary, he kept turning to her and asking her opinion. Before he got up to go he had invited them all to go down to the lake with him the next day for a fish dinner. Twenty-four hours later he had asked her to drive with him alone, and while she was wavering Mary had accepted for her; and really she did not see why she should not go with him. She had liked him from the first, he was so quiet and reserved, and then he had been so lonely since the death of his wife. On Sunday he had taken her to church; and the next morning he had moved over to their hotel. She had been afraid that Mary might tease her; but she did not care, for she was getting to like to have him attentive to her. She had made up her mind not to pay any regard to anything Mary might say. What Mary did say was to ask her to stay on another fortnight. She wondered now what would have happened if her father had refused his permission. As it was, she remained in Saratoga two weeks longer—and so did John, though Mr. Morton said that the senior partner of Blackstock, Rawlings & Cameron had lots of things to do in New York. Then Mary used to smile and to tell her husband that Mr. Blackstock had more pressing business on hand in Saratoga than in New York.

At last they all started for home again, and John had come with them as far as Albany. When he held her hand just as the car was going and said good-by, it was rather abruptly that he asked her if he might come and see her at Norwich—and he had blushed as he explained that he might be called there soon on important business.

As the picture of this scene rose before the eyes of the young bride she smiled again. She knew now what she had guessed then—that she was the important business that was bringing the senior partner of Blackstock, Rawlings & Cameron to Norwich. When he came up the next Saturday and had made the acquaintance of her father and mother she began to think that perhaps he was really interested in her. She spent the next twenty-four hours in a strange dream of ecstasy; and when he walked home with her after the evening service she knew that she had found her fate most unexpectedly. As they neared her father’s door he had asked her if she were willing to trust her future to him, and she had answered solemnly that she was his whenever he might choose to claim her.

Although she had said this, she was taken aback when he had wished her to be married early in September. She had had to beg to have the wedding postponed till the end of October, assuring him that she could not be ready before then. Now, as she sat there rocking silently in the sitting-room of his house in New York, with a smile of happiness curving her lips, and as she recalled the swiftness of time’s flight during the few weeks of her engagement, she did not regret that his neglected business would keep him in town all winter and that the promised trip to Europe was postponed until next summer. They had gone on their brief wedding journey to Niagara and Montreal and Quebec; and they had returned only the day before. Last night for the first time had she sat at the head of his table as the mistress of his house. For the first time that morning had she poured out his coffee in their future home, smiling at him across the broad table in the dingy dining-room with its black horsehair chairs.

Then he had sent for a cab, and he had insisted on her coming down to the office with him. It was the first time that she had seen the immense building occupied by Blackstock, Rawlings & Cameron, with the packing-cases piled high on the sidewalk and with half a dozen drays unloading the goods just received from Europe. Although two or three of the clerks were looking at him when he got out of the cab, he had kissed her; and although she supposed she must have blushed, she did not really object. She was John’s wife now, and it did not matter who knew it. He had called to the driver to come back so that he might tell her to stop anywhere she pleased on her way up-town and to buy anything she fancied. She had come straight home without buying anything, for, of course, she was not going to waste John’s money.

All the same the house was very old-fashioned, and it sadly needed to be refurnished. John was rich, and John was generous with his money; and she felt sure he would let her do over the house just as she pleased. Then her thoughts went back to the days when she had been sent to a boarding-school in New York to finish her education and to the afternoon walks when she and the other girls, two by two, had again and again passed in front of that very house; and now it was her home for the rest of her life. It was hers to brighten and to beautify and to make over to suit herself. She did not want to say a word against John’s first wife, but it did seem to her that the elder woman had lacked taste at least. The wall-papers and the hangings were all hopeless, and the furniture was simply prehistoric. The drawing-room looked as though nobody had ever dared to sit in it; and it was so repellent that she did not wonder everybody kept out of it.