"I had the satisfaction of hearing by your last letter, that you find your new mode of life already becoming congenial to you; that your work absorbs you, and your comrades suit you. Here steps in maternal jealousy at once, and in terror of losing you altogether, I write this letter as reminder; also because I have a thing or two to tell you which may not be indifferent to you.
"In the first place, you must know, that yesterday was the day appointed for the magic ceremonies with which the Burgermeister thought fit to inaugurate his villa. The Heavens were pleased to smile on his designs, and favored him with the loveliest day this year has brought. In the grounds and garden, every flower that grows and blows, was in fall bloom and fragrance. Our worthy host--you know him in his gala mood--was courtesy itself. Wife and daughter attired from head to foot, in correctest taste and newest fashion; and we poor provincials rigged out in our best, each one according to his abilities.
"What will you say to your little mother, when you hear that she turned out in fall ball dress!--worse--what will you say when you hear that she actually danced?--Not merely a sober polonaise with our host, who led us by torchlight all over the house, down to the lowest cellar, and into the park and grounds--but actually valses and écossaises; even a heel-splitting mazurka, which your rival of old, the young referendarius, led off with the daughter of the house.
"Alas! poor boy, it is not to be concealed from you, that the venerable guardian of your youth took strange advantage of your absence, to wax wild and wanton in her old age.
"Not only did I join the giddy throng myself; whirling round our well-known gallery of shells, perfectly undaunted by any flaming volcano whatsoever, but I succeeded in turning a far stronger and more respectable head to my own mischievous purposes, and I fear we are a superannuated couple who have fed the gossips with our follies, for some time.
"My dear child, it is my own confession, or you might refuse to believe the papers when you read it in them. Your mamma has finally made up her mind to give you a stepfather, and her decision was solemnly celebrated last night in a select circle of authorities and townspeople. Your mother's health and her bridegroom's, was drunk with all the honors, as the clock struck twelve.
"At first I thought that all the world must be astonished, and would regard it as no less improbable than improper, that a mother should think of weddings, when she has a great grown-up son so far away. But, judging by their words at least, it did not astonish them at all, and they seemed to think it quite correct; and so after all, I daresay, there is no one to find fault with us, save precisely this grown-up son. Here I would make the appropriate observation that a dutiful child never presumes to judge its parents, but rather looks respectfully on all their actions, as emanations of a maturer judgment.
"In the fond hope that my dear Walter is just such a dutiful child, I send him his stepfather's love meanwhile, and I trust that he will not fail to bring us his in return, when some fine day he comes back to us as a distinguished architect; when, instead of the poky old house we are to take possession of in autumn, he will have to build us a sunny airy villa outside the gates; though I should not care for volcanoes or shell-galleries.
"And now I must say good-bye to you for to-day. He (major) is just come to fetch me for a walk; and as he is to be my master, of course I must obey. Only about your father; he has grown quite young again, and his leg is quite alert--to be sure the days are warm, and I don't really think, that without that trip to Italy--It is no use trying. My master will not leave me time to finish--I begin to fear that I have sold myself to cruel bondage. Thank Heaven! I have a great strong son to threaten with, who, I trust, will never forget, or cease to care for his
"little mother."