That must be an unspeakable satisfaction to you, now that your sainted mother has--a--departed; has--a--gone from us; has--a--ascended on wings of light to the empyrean. You were a dutiful son, sir."

William Jaquith colored high. "Not always, Mr. Homer," he said. "In thinking of these late happy years, you must not forget the others that went before. I should be dead, or a castaway, this day, but for Mrs.

Tree."

"I rejoice at it, my dear sir!" cried Mr. Homer, his gentle eyes kindling. "That is to say--I would not wish to be understood as--but I am sure you apprehend me, William. I would say that my respect, my--a--reverence, my--a--affection and admiration for my cousin Marcia, sir, are enhanced a hundredfold by the knowledge of what she did for you. It cheers me, sir; it--a--invigorates me; it--a--causes a bud of spring to blow in a bosom which--a--was sealed, as I may say, with ice of--a--in short, with ice:--a--what is that pink envelope, William?"

"For Joe Breck, sir; from S. E. Willow, South Verona. That is Sophy, I suppose?"

Mr. Homer quivered with pleasure as he took the long, slim note in his hand. "This is from Sophia!" he said. "Sophia Willow is a sweet creature, William;--a--dewy flower, as the lamented Keats has it; a--milk-white lamb that bleats for man's protection, as he also observes. And Joseph Breck, sir, is a worthy youth. He has 'sighed and looked and sighed again' (Dryden, sir! a great poet, though unduly influenced by the age in which he lived) these two years past, I have had reason to think. Of late his letters to Sophia have been more frequent; there was one only yesterday, if you remember, a bulky one, probably containing--a--remarks of a tender nature;--a--outpourings of an ardent description. This is the response. Its rosy hue leads me to hope that it is a favorable one, William. The shape, too: a square envelope has always something of self-a.s.sertion about it; but this long, slender, graceful note has in its very appearance something--a--yielding; something--a--acquiescent; something--a--indicative of the budding of the tender pa.s.sion. I augur happily from the aspect of this note. A--I trust your sentiments accord with mine, William?"

"Yes, indeed, sir," said Will, heartily. "I am sure Sophy would not have the heart to say 'no' on such pretty paper as this; not that I think she ever meant to. But here is a letter for you, Mr. Homer, and this is a long envelope, too, only it is green instead of pink. Postmark Bexley."

Mr. Homer started. "Not Bexley, William!" he said, nervously. "I trust you are mistaken; look again, if you will be so good. I cannot conceive why I should receive a letter from Bexley."

"I'm sorry, sir," replied Will, "but Bexley it is. Would you like me to open it, Mr. Homer?"

Mr. Homer cast a glance of aversion at the green envelope; it certainly was somewhat vivid in tint, and was rather liberally than delicately scented.

"I should be glad if you would do so, William," he said. "I seem to feel--a--less vigorous than when you first came in. I should be obliged if you would look it over, William."

With a glance wherein compa.s.sion struggled with amus.e.m.e.nt, Jaquith opened the letter and glanced through it.

"From Mrs. Pryor," he said, briefly.

Mr. Homer moved uneasily in his seat. "I--a--apprehended as much," he said. "Go on, William."

With another compa.s.sionate twinkle, Will complied, and read as follows:

"'MY DEAREST HOMER:'"

Mr. Homer winced, and wiped his forehead nervously.

"'Ever since that dreadful day which I _will not name_, I have been _prostrated_ with grief and mortification; grief on my own account; mortification--I blush to say it--for the sake of one whose present condition _seals my lips_. Need I say that I allude to Aunt Marcia?

For some time I felt that all relations between me and Elmerton must be _closed forever_.'"

Mr. Homer looked up.

"'But in the end a more Christian spirit prevailed.'"

Mr. Homer looked down again.

"'I have conquered my pride; you can imagine what a struggle it was, for you know what the Darracott pride _is_, though the Hollopeters only intermarried with us in your grandfather's time. I came out of the struggle a _physical wreck_.'"

Mr. Homer looked up once more.

"'But with me, as all who know me are aware, _flesh_ is _nothing, spirit_ is _all_! I have resolved to let bygones be bygones, Homer; to put all this sad and shocking business behind me, and strive to forget that it ever existed. In this spirit, my dear cousin, I write to offer you the _affection_ of a _sister_.'"

Mr. Homer uttered a hollow groan, and dropped his head in his hands.

"'We are both alone, Homer. My girls are married; and, though the greater portion of my heart is _in the grave_ with Mr. Pryor, enough of it yet breathes to keep a _warm corner_ for you, my nearest _living relative_. The extraordinary and iniquitous doc.u.ment, which I will not further describe, has laid a heavy burden on your shoulders; and I feel it a _duty_ to give you all the aid in my power in the work of arranging and cla.s.sifying the collection of worldly trifles by which our late unhappy relative set such store. _I_, Homer, have _outgrown_ such matters. It is for Aunt Marcia's own sake that I feel, as you must, the necessity of something like an equitable arrangement in regard to all this trumpery. My _duty to my children_ obliges me, much against my will, to protest against Vesta Strong's having all the lace and jewelry. If she had any sense of decency, she would not accept what was clearly the raving of _senile dementia_. As to the grasping and mercenary spirit shown by her and her husband, I say nothing: let their consciences deal with them, if they _own such an article; I_ am _above_ it.

"'Let me know, dearest Homer, when you are ready for me, and I will come to you on the instant. I will bring an excellent maidservant to replace the old creature, whom I trust you have dismissed ere this. If not, let me urge you strongly to get rid of her at once.

She is not a fit person to have charge of you. I feel that the _sooner_ I come to you the _better_; let us lose no time, so pray write at once, dear Homer, to

"'Your loving cousin,

"'MARIA DARRACOTT PRYOR.'"

Will's eyes were twinkling as he folded up the letter, but they were very tender as he turned them on Mr. Homer, sitting crumpled like a withered leaf in his chair.

"Cheer up, Mr. Homer!" said the young postmaster. "Look up, my dear friend. You don't suppose we are going to let her come, do you? She shall not put her foot inside the door, I promise you."

Mr. Homer groaned again. "She will come, William!" he said. "I feel it; I know it. She will come, and she will stay. I have not strength to resist her. Oh, Cousin Marcia, Cousin Marcia, you little thought what you were doing when you laid this burden on me. I don't think I can bear it, William! I will go away; I will leave the village. I do--not--think--I can bear it!"

"Oh, I think you can, sir," said Will Jaquith. "Consider the wishes of our dear old friend. Think how hard it would be for us all to see strangers in this house, so full of memories of her. I hope that after awhile you can grow to feel at home, and to be happy here. Then, too, the work will be of a kind that will interest you. The arrangement of all these rare and curious objects, the formation of a museum,--why, Mr.

Homer, you are made for the work, and the work for you. Cheer up, my good friend!"

Mr. Homer sighed heavily. "I thank you, William," he said. "I thank you.

You are always sympathetic and comforting to me. Your words are--are as balm; as--as dew upon Hermon; as--oil which runs down--" The poor gentleman broke off, and looked piteously at his companion. "My metaphor misleads me," he said. "It is often the case at the present time. I--I am apprehensive that my mind is not what it was; that I am in danger of loss of the intellect; of the--a--power of thought; of the--a--chair, where Reason sits--or in happier days did sit--enthroned. I am a wreck, William, a wreck."

He sighed again, hesitated, and went on. "All you say is true, my friend, and I could, I think, find much interest and even inspiration in the task entrusted to me by my venerated and deplored relative, if--I could do it in my own way: but--I am hampered, sir. I am--trammelled; I am--a--set upon behind and before. The ladies--a--in short--Hark! what is that?"

He started nervously as a knock was heard at the front door, and clutched Will Jaquith's coat with a feverish grasp. "Don't leave me, William!" he cried. "On no account leave me! It is a woman. I--I--cannot be left alone with them. They come about me--like locusts, William!

Listen!"

A wheezy, unctuous voice was heard:

"Mr. Hollopeter feelin' any better to-day?"

"No, he ain't," came the reply in Direxia's crisp accents.

"I'm real sorry. I've brought him a little relish to eat with his supper. I made it myself, and it's nourishin' and palatable. Shall I take it in to him?"

"I'll take it," said Direxia. "He won't tetch it, I can tell you that."

"You never can tell," said the voice. "Sometimes a new hand will give victuals a freshness. Besides, Homer must be real lonesome. I'm comin'

in to set with him a spell, and maybe read him a chapter. I've ben through affliction myself, Direxia, well you know, and the sufferin'

seeks their like. You let me in now! You ain't no right to keep me out, Direxia Hawkes. This ain't your house, and I'll take no sarce from you, so now I tell you."

Mr. Homer started from his seat with a wild look, but Will Jaquith laid a quiet hand on his shoulder.

"Sit still, sir!" he said. "I'll take charge of this one, and Tommy will be back soon. Cheer up, Mr. Homer!"

He pa.s.sed out. Mr. Homer, listening feverishly, heard a few words spoken in a cheerful, decided voice; then the door closed. Mr. Homer drew a long breath, but started again nervously as Direxia's brown head popped in at the door.

"Mis' Weight brung some stuff," she said, briefly. "Looks like skim-milk blue-monge bet up with tapioky. Want it?"

"No!" cried Mr. Homer, with something as near a snarl as his gentle voice could compa.s.s.