“On a back street, some distance from here,” said Dell; adding, that their house, though small, was pleasant and neatly furnished. “It is well enough in the country to have a city Aunt on which to plume one’s self,” she continued, laughingly; “but here, where she is known, I do not intend having much intercourse with her, for a physician and tailor will, of course, occupy entirely different positions. However, I must treat her, at first, with a show of politeness, and if you are so disposed, we’ll go round there and call this morning.”
The doctor made no objections, and ere long they were walking over the stony pavement towards R—— street, which, as Dell had said, was rather out of the way. The house, however, at which they stopped, was a pleasant little cottage, with a nicely-kept yard in front, while the parlor, into which they were shown, was quite tastefully furnished. Mrs. Marshall herself answered their ring, appearing greatly surprised when she saw them, but not more so than Doctor Clayton, who would never have recognized the dashing lady of Pine District in the plain-looking woman, who, in a cheap calico wrapper, unbrushed hair, and checked apron, now sat before him—his Aunt. And yet he could not help thinking her far more agreeable than he had ever seen her before. The truth was, that Mrs. Marshall was one of those weak-minded women who, being nothing at home, strove to make amends by “making believe” abroad; assuming everything in the latter and nothing in the former condition. Consequently, she, who in the country was proud and overbearing, affecting ignorance of the most trivial matters, was, at home, a comparatively quiet, domestic woman; doing her own work, and, aside from being a little jealous and envious of her more fortunate neighbors, generally minding her own business.
After the first flutter of meeting the doctor was over, she became herself again, and set about entertaining them to the best of her ability, inviting them to stay with her to dinner, and urging as an inducement, that she was going to have “peaches and cream for dessert.” But Dell rather haughtily declined, whereupon her aunt asked “when she would come round and spend the day?” saying, “she must do so before long, or they might not be in that house.”
“Not be in this house! Why not?” asked Dell; and Mrs. Marshall replied, “Why, you know, we have always rented it of Mr. Lee, and he talks of selling it.”
Instantly the doctor thought of Rosa, and involuntarily repeated the name—“Lee—Lee”——
“Yes,” said Mrs. Marshall. “He has a brother in Meadow Brook, whom you may know.”
“Is he wealthy?” asked the doctor.
“Why, ye-es, I s’pose so,” said Mrs. Marshall, hesitatingly, as if unwilling to admit what she could not deny. “He lives in a big house on Beacon street—keeps his carriage—and they say the curtains in the front parlor cost a thousand dollars, and there are only two windows either.”
Here she cast a deprecating glance towards her own very prettily embroidered muslin curtains, which probably cost about a hundredth part of that sum. Soon after, the newly married pair arose to go, the doctor feeling, in spite of himself, a little uncomfortable, though at what he hardly knew; for he would not acknowledge to himself that he was at all disappointed because Dell’s uncle was a tailor instead of a millionaire, or because Rose’s uncle lived on Beacon street, and sported curtains which cost a thousand dollars. This did not in the least affect Dell. She was his wife, and as such he would love and cherish her, ministering as far as possible to her wants, and overlooking the faults which he knew she possessed. Thus reasoned his better nature as he rode home, unconscious that the object of his thoughts was at that very moment misconstruing his silence into disappointment, and writing against him bitter things in her heart.
It was a peculiarity of Dell’s to get angry when people least expected it, and then to sulk until such time as she saw fit to be gracious; so when they reached the Tremont, the doctor was astonished to find her past speaking; neither could he by any amount of coaxing elicit a word from her for more than an hour. At the end of that time, however, her pent-up wrath exploded; and, in angry tones, she accused him of feeling sorry that he had married her, because her uncle didn’t prove to be a great man as he had supposed.