“Dear ma” looked uneasy, but she permitted us to depart. I was afraid she would insist upon accompanying us, as I think she would, had she not been satisfied by the assurance that the house was already leased. We walked to Needham street. I was full of hope. Lilian would like the English basement house—she could not help liking it, and what a rapturous moment would it be when I told her that it was all her own! Even the anticipated battle with “dear ma” seemed to be farther removed and of much less consequence than before. We approached the house, and my heart beat high with transports of delight. In a few days, perhaps the very next day, I should see the idol of my soul enthroned within its walls!
With Lilian leaning lovingly on my arm, I halted at No. 21. On the door, to my intense confusion and disgust, glittered a new silver plate whereon was inscribed the name,”P. Glasswood,” not in Old English, German text, or any other letter which he who runs may not often read, but in plain script! I had told the maker not to put it on the door for a week; but he had misunderstood me, or had taken it upon himself to defeat my plan.
“P. Glasswood!”—exclaimed dear Lilian, stunned and horrified, so that the shock she had thrilled my whole frame.
“Certainly; P. Glasswood,” I interposed, promptly. “You know Pierce—don’t you, Lilian? I think you saw him when we were at Springhaven. He is only a second cousin of mine, but he is a good fellow.”
“I didn’t know you had a cousin of that name,” she replied, much comforted.
As I did not know it myself, I did not blame her for not being aware of the circumstance. I opened the door, and we went in, for I had already provided myself with a night key—that gross metallic sin against a wife. Of course the house and furniture were at their best estate. Every thing was new, nice and elegant. The hall gave the first cheerful impression of the house, and Lilian was delighted with it. The little sitting-room was so cosy and snug that my wife actually cried out with pleasure.
The parlors and the chambers were equally satisfactory, and Lilian thought my cousin would be very happy with his bride in this new house. We proceeded to the kitchen, where the Biddy in charge smiled benignantly upon her new “missus,” though, she did not betray the secret she had been instructed to keep. My wife was not so much interested in the kitchen as in the parlor and sitting-room, but she was kind enough to say that every thing was neat and convenient, though I am afraid she was hardly a judge on the latter point. We returned to the sitting-room, and my wife seated herself in the low rocking-chair which had been selected for her use.
“How do you like it on the whole, Lilian?” I asked, dropping into the arm-chair, in which I intended to read the Transcript every evening.