CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCING SOME OF THE CHARACTERS.
The morning mail for Merrivale had just arrived, and the postmaster was distributing the letters. Col. Rossiter, who lived in the large stone house on the Knoll, had two; one from his wife, who, with his two daughters, was spending the summer at Martha’s Vineyard, and one from his son Philip, a young graduate from Harvard, who had been off on a yachting excursion, and was coming home for a few days before joining his mother and sisters at the sea-side. There was also one for Mrs. Lydia Ann Ferguson, who lived on Cottage Row, and was the fashionable dressmaker of the town. Mr. Arthur Beresford, the only practicing lawyer in Merrivale, had six, five of which he read hastily, as he stood in the post-office door, and then for a moment studied the superscription of the other, which was soiled and travel-worn, and bore a foreign postmark.
“From Mr. Hetherton,” he said, to himself. “What can he want, I wonder?” and opening the letter, he read as follows:
“Hotel Meurice, Paris, June 10th, 18—.
“Mr. Beresford:
“Dear Sir:—You will undoubtedly be surprised to hear that I am coming home. Once I expected to live and die abroad, but recently, with my failing health, there has come over me an intense longing to see America once more.
“After an absence of nearly twenty-three years, it will seem almost as strange to me as to my daughter Reinette, who has never been in an English-speaking country. She is as anxious to come as I am, and we have engaged passage on the Russia, which sails from Liverpool the 25th. I have no idea whether the old house is habitable or not. All important changes and repairs I prefer to make myself, after Reinette has decided what she wants; but, if possible, I wish you to have a few rooms made comfortable for us. The large chamber which looks toward the town and the river I design for Reinette, and will you see that it is made pretty and attractive. If I remember rightly, there used to be in it a mahogany bedstead older than I am. Remove it, and substitute something light and airy in its place. Reinette does not like mahogany. Put simple muslin curtains at the windows, and have nothing but matting on the floors; Reinette detests carpets. And if you know of a pair of fine carriage horses and a lady’s saddle pony, have them ready for inspection, and if they suit Reinette I will take them. If you chance to hear of a trusty, middle-aged woman suitable for a housekeeper at Hetherton Place, retain her until Reinette can see her; and please have the conservatory and garden full of flowers. Reinette is passionately fond of flowers—fond, in fact, of everything bright and pretty. She has just come in, and says tell you to be sure and get her some cats and dogs, so I suppose you must do it; but, for Heaven’s sake, don’t fill the house with them—two or three will answer. I can’t abide them myself. Reinette is waiting for me to go to dinner, and I must close. Shall telegraph to you from New York as soon as the vessel arrives, and shall follow on first train.
“Truly, Frederick Hetherton.
“Spare no money to make the place comfortable.”