Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-02-17

/ There! / oughtn't to have said that, for
/ uncle Henry adOres him."
/ ..Yes. Albert said he was prig. OH
| he told me to be sure not to repeat that.
! Oh. Charlie, 1 do beg you never to men,
/ ton it, never. Albert would be so angry
( with me. l don't know what was think
I ing Of-and he your cousin, too but Eve
/ had so much trouble l don't remember
| things as l OUGHT
''HOur secret is safe with me, mamma
/ l am going down stairs; it is almost twi-
| light. Won't you come and get a breath
I of fresh air; 1t viii do you good; you
/ have been shut in here for days.o
I "Well, will go; but | am tired and
/ weak and hardly fit to walk
Charlie brought a shawl and wrapped
her young mother carefully and led her
down into the garden. 1t was almost
night, and the sky was brilliant with
light. The harvest moon was full and
| beautiful. When they had taken lew
/ turns up and down the gravel walks and
( had sat and talked a while under the
trees, Mrs. Barrett had recovered her
usual gentle. cheerful voice. Chlld as
4 she was, the pretty weather and the ira
I grant garden had cOmfOrted her. Her
! great grief had spent itself, and she was
/ her own sweet, irresponsible self again.
As Charlie sat alone in her room that
night she said, with a heavy sigh:
MY poor father. with all your hOnOrs
/ and all your friends, l alone, your I'M
loved daughter, have tears for you now,
and you have not been gone a week.
Mrs. Beltham was a woman entirely de-
voted to what she considered the proprie-
ties Of life. Everything in which she had
any agency must be done exactly accord
ing to the best established rules.
The opinion of the world must be most
carefully considered, and no one, in whom
she had moments interest, must dare to
infringe on its well-approved customs.
After the funeral the house was pulled
Systematically to pieces to be readjusted
in its best and neatest order. Every yes
tige of long and wearylng illness was
put carefully out of sight. The sick
room was ventilated, painted, papered
and rehtted-made to assume altogether
new face. Judge Barrett's invalid chair,
| a model Of ease and luxurious comfort
was consigned to parts unknown, and the
autumn sunshine and the autumn
breeZes came in, abided, and came again.
Nothing could exceed the exquisite neat
ness Of the whole place. The garden, al
ways well kept, was, under skillful hands,
putting on a newer charm daily. Was it
that the memory of the long suffering and
dead master tried the household so sOrely
that every trace of his living had been so
carefully put out Of sight? or was it only
the mothers Over-Weaning care of her
-
Beltham said little to any one in these
days, but pursued her purposes silently
and effectively. When the one enterprise
Of fall cleaning had been most etfec-
lively completed, she turned her active
I energies to another duty, and this was the
family mourning. For the earliest emer-
gency black dresses and hats had been
ordered for them all, but Mrs. Beltham
was not the woman to fOregO one jot OF
Z the particularly and Importance Of the
I occasion; and now that she had leisure
/ she gave herself up to it heart and soul.
Poor Charlie! quiet prisoner in the
house without occupation and without
cOmpaniOnship, was painfully bored with
10 al. listening 10 the trlHing details
hour after hour. 1t all seemed so pitiful
now that her poor father was so easily for
gotten.
"You know, dear Annie" her mother
would say, there's every possible differ
ence in the kinds Of mourning worn on
these sad occasions. You, Of course. be-
ing a widow in such deep aflliction, should
wear the Grape FOLDS on your bOmbazine
dress at least three inches deeper and
heavier than Charities, though, of course.
hers must express the next degree of
I grief; so, also, Your veil must be far
I heavier and longer than hers. Now, my
| black being more a matter of courtesy, is
but light mourning, and. as ! wear black
=
7 siye. Some people might say | have been
I a little eXtraYagant in material for YOU
I two. but am determined to leave nothing
I for a censOri0us world TO caYil at. Judge
! Barrett was so greatly respected that the
/ world shall see'that his family know how
I to regret him properly ETC., ETC., etc.
Day after day the work went on, q wO-
/ man being hired to assist, and day after
/ day the discussions continued as to this
style of trimming or that, until Charlie
I grew so nervous and tried that she felt
/ like crying out upon such heartless non
| sense.
! Mrs. Barrett did not find it so irving.
/ She took quite a gentle little interest in
/ the fitting of her dresses as she recalled
| AIbert's fastidiOus dislike to an i'll fit on
! any woman. She thought of him great
| deal in these days; not improperly, that
/ she knew of at all, but with a new admit
/ ration for his capabilities, and great re-
! Prospective pleasure in her late husbands
I appreciation of it. Always believing him
| the greatest and most gifted of men, she
| felt now that the world had Endorsed her
| opinion of him.
! His wise mother knew her role well,
| and, even at this early day, riYeted his
I claims and hOnors almost hourly. When
| ever Annie tried to do anything in her
| own house, or concerning her own affairs,
| she was always stepped with some sug-
| gestiOn of this sort: ''DO leave it alone,
I my dear Annie; you know you are moth
| ing of a manager. Do leave il all to Al
/ bert; it is certainly his business, and you
| know he expressly ordered that you were
| to rest and not fatigue yourself with
| things YOU did not half understand. And
! so Mrs. Barrett, entirely without resources
| for books had never been attractive to
| her-spent her days in idly thinking of
| her perfect brother, or hearing his many
! and singular eXcellencies recOunted by his
| mother.
Charlie had, for many days, fretted
! under her grandmother's decree that she
| must live for a time in the strictest Sc
| clusiOn and see no one; but she had
/ Obeyed. She did not want to show any
/ disrespect to her fathers memory by visit
ing or receiving visitors, but she was
longing, longing to get back to her uncle
Henry's pretty study and her books.
Another thing perpleXed her sorely.
She had believed she did not like her
! cousin EscOtte, but she felt wounded and
! hurt at his neglect. For two or three
| weeks she had been shut in a gloomy
house and he had not once called or sent
to see how she Jared. 1t was curiOusly
neglecttul and, she could not but add, I'M
like him. If he cared nothing for her
! self at least. he was a gentleman and
sufficiently acquainted with the cOurte-
sizes of life. She thought about this a
great deal, and as idle persons invaria-
bly, do, by constantly dwelling on it, mag
nifed his unkindness and her own dis
turbance at it. In Mrs. Beltham's de-
termined adherence to the proprieties for
the first two weeks, she would not even
permit Charlie to walk in the day time out
in the large and pretty garden. Annie
and she were made to take nightly strOls
for the benefit of the exercise; but, at
last, at the girls earnest request, she
slackened her stern rule sufficiently to
permit an afternoon stroll in the pretty
walks. charging her by no means to ask
her mamma TO join her, as that would by
no means dc. and she added:
Don't 90 to the gate, dear, on any ac-
count; and, if you see anybody coming,
don't look up, but walk slowly along with
your eyes fixed on the ground l really
would have preferred you to have stopped
in doors for the month at least. but YOU
seem so very restless and look so tired
and am always so indulgent that | give
in. / don't think Albert will consider il
heartless, but there's no telling; he was
so perfectly devoted to your poor papa
Whatever scOrn of such heartless plati-
tudes the girl might have felt she said
nothing. She had staid in the house, shut
in with gloomy surroundings. until she
[ had grown SDirifIpSS and liSt1aSs Ghn