Millbank;

Mrs. Walter Scott knew nothing of the hundred thousand dollars settled upon Bell, or of the arrangement for the entire family to live henceforth at Millbank. She was well pleased, however, to have Judge Burleigh and Grace and Charlie there for a few days, with other guests from Boston and New York. They were a part of the wedding festivities, and she enjoyed the éclat of having so many young people of style and distinction in the house, and enjoyed showing them off at church and in the street. She enjoyed the grand dinners, too, which occupied three hours and for which the ladies dressed so elaborately, the bride wearing something new each day, and astonishing the servants with the length of her train and the size of her hoops, and she enjoyed for a time the dance and the song, and hilarity in the evening, but she began at last to grow weary of it all, and to sigh for a little quiet; and greatly to Frank’s surprise and Bell’s delight, she gave up the trip to Saratoga, and saw the bridal party depart without her one morning a few days after the party.

The United States was their destination, and the town was soon teeming with gossip of the bride who sported so exquisite jewelry and wore so magnificent dresses and snubbed her husband so mercilessly. Frank’s turn-out, too, was commented on and admired, and he had the satisfaction of knowing that his carriage and his horses were the finest in town; but for any genuine domestic happiness he enjoyed, he might as well have been without a wife as with one.

One day Bell expressed a desire for a glass of water from the spring on the grounds of the Clarendon, and as she knew she was exquisitely dressed, and sure to create a sensation all along the street, she started with Grace and her husband for the spring. The Clarendon was not full, though it had the reputation of entertaining the very crème de la crème, those who preferred cool shades, and pure air and fresh furniture and quiet, to the glare and crowd and heat and fashion farther down town. There were but few on the broad piazza that afternoon, but at these Bell looked curiously, especially at the two young ladies who were standing with their backs to her, and whom she at once decided to be somebody. Both wore deep mourning, and one was fair with chestnut hair, while the braids of the other were dark and glossy and abundant. A white-haired man and middle-aged woman were sitting near them, and a tall, fine-looking young man was standing by the shorter of the young ladies, and evidently describing something which greatly interested all, for peals of laughter were occasionally heard as the story proceeded, and the girl with the chestnut hair turned her head a little more toward Bell, and also toward Frank. There was a violent start on his part, and then he suggested that they return to their hotel. But Bell insisted upon going up the hill and occupying some vacant chairs upon the piazza. She was tired, and it looked so cool and pleasant there, she said in that tone of voice which Frank always obeyed, and with a beating heart he gave her his arm and led her up the steep bank and put her in her chair and brought another for Grace, and fidgeted about and managed to keep his back toward the group which he knew was watching him. The hum of their voices had ceased as he drew near with his magnificent bride, who in her diamonds and costly array presented so striking a contrast to the two plainly-dressed young ladies, whom Bell thought so beautiful, wondering greatly who they were. Frank knew who they were, and stood an awkward moment and tried not to see them; then with a great gulp, in which he forced down far more emotion than his wife ever gave him credit for possessing, he turned toward them, accidentally as it seemed, and uttering a well-feigned exclamation of surprise went forward to meet Alice Grey and Magdalen.

“Speak of angels and you hear the rustle of their wings,” Guy said, when the first words of greeting were over. “I was talking of you, or rather of Mrs. Irving, whom I saw at the hop last night, and whose beauty and dress I was describing to these rustic country girls.”

“Oh, yes, certainly. I should like to present my wife to you,” Frank said, his spirits rising as they always did when his wife was complimented.

He was proud of her, and if she allowed it, would have been fond of her, too; and he felt a thrill of satisfaction and pleasure that she was looking so well and bore herself so regally as he led her to his friends and introduced her as “My wife, Mrs. Irving.”

Bell had heard of the Greys and knew that Alice and Magdalen were fully her equals, and her manner was very soft and gracious towards them as she expressed her pleasure in meeting them. Frank brought her chair for her and placed it between Alice and Magdalen, and held her parasol, and leaned over her, and admired her so much as almost to forget the circumstances under which, he had last seen Magdalen. Bell was very lady-like, very gentle, and very bright and witty withal, and the Greys were perfectly charmed with her, and wondered how she could have married Frank, who in point of intellect was so greatly her inferior.

For two or three weeks the Greys remained at Saratoga, and during that time they saw a great deal of the Irvings, while between Bell and the Misses Grey there sprang up a strong liking, which was very strange, considering how unlike they were in almost everything. Once Frank spoke to Magdalen of Roger, who, he said, was getting on famously, both as to money and reputation.

“Why don’t you two marry?” he asked abruptly. “You ought to. There’s nothing in the way that I can see.”

Ere Magdalen could reply, they were joined by Alice, but Frank had detected that in her manner which convinced him that her love for Roger was unchanged.

“Then why the plague don’t they marry?” he said to himself. “It’s Roger’s fault, I know. He’s afraid she is not willing. I mean to write and tell him she is. I owe them both something, and that’s the way I’ll pay it;” and that afternoon Frank did commence a letter to Roger, but he never finished it, for dinner came on, and after it a drive, and then a letter from his mother urging his immediate return, as the hands at the mill were conducting badly, many of them leaving to go to Schodick, and others taking advantage of his absence, and a drunken overseer.

Accordingly, the bridal pair went back to Millbank, and Grace was with them, and Charlie too; while Mr. Burleigh, who had been disposing of his affairs in Boston, came in a few days, and Mrs. Walter Scott heard Mrs. Franklin tell the servant to see that everything was in order in “Judge Burleigh’s room; you know which it is, the one at the end of the hall, adjoining Charlie’s.”

This looked as if there was an understanding between Mrs. Franklin and Katy with regard to rooms, while the quantity of baggage which came from the depot in the express wagon looked very much as if the Burleighs had come for good, with no intention of leaving. This was a condition of things of which Mrs. Walter Scott did not approve; but there was something in the gleam of Mrs. Bell’s black eyes which warned her to be careful what she said. She was a little afraid of Bell and so kept quiet until she heard from her own maid that “the old gentleman” was putting his books on the shelves, which, unknown to her, had been conveyed into his room, and was arranging a lot of stones, and snails, and birds. Then she could keep still no longer, but attacked her son with the question:

“Are all the Burleighs to live here in future? I did not suppose you married the entire family.”

Frank had looked forward to a time when some such question would be propounded to him, and was glad it had come. Once he had been afraid of his mother, and he was still a good deal in awe of her and her opinions, but upstairs was a lady whom he feared more, though she had never spoken to him except in the mildest, softest manner, and he wisely resolved to let his mother know the worst which had befallen her, and told her, as gently as possible, and with the tone of one who was communicating a piece of good news, that the Burleighs were a rather singular family, very strongly attached to each other; yes, very strongly attached, that they never had been separated, and that Bell had accepted him only on condition that they should not be separated, but live together at Millbank as they had done at Boston.

There was intense scorn in Mrs. Walter Scott’s eyes, and in her voice, as she said, “And so you have taken upon yourself the maintenance of four instead of one!”

“Why, no,—not exactly,—that is,—Judge Burleigh and Charlie, and—yes, and Charlie—”

Frank was getting matters somewhat confused, and did not quite know how to make it clear to his mother’s mind that Charlie would only trouble them till he was set up in business, and that Judge Burleigh’s society and the pleasure of having so polished and agreeable a gentleman in the house was a sufficient compensation for any expense he might be to them; but she understood him at last, and knew that the Judge and Charlie were there for good, and the rooms they occupied had been fitted up expressly for them without a reference to her or her wishes in the matter. Had she known of the hundred thousand made over to Bell she would have gone mad. As it was, she flew into a towering passion, accusing Frank of being in leading-strings and henpecked, and threatening to leave and go back to New York, as she presumed he wished she would. Frank did not wish any such thing. His mother was more necessary to him now than before his marriage, for he was generally sure of her sympathy, which was more than he could say of his wife. So he soothed and quieted her as best he could, and when she referred to his recent loss by fire, and asked how he could burden himself with so large a family, he told her a lie, and said he should be able to recover a part of the insurance, and that even if he did not, his income was sufficient to warrant his present style of living, and she need have no fears for him; or if she had, he would settle something upon her at once, so that in case he failed entirely she would not be penniless. This was a happy thought, and Mrs. Walter Scott consented to be mollified and let the Burleighs remain in quiet in consideration of twenty-five thousand dollars in bonds and mortgages and railroad stock which Frank agreed to give her, and which he did convey that very day. She had at first asked for fifty thousand, but had agreed to be satisfied with twenty-five, and Frank went to his dinner a poorer man by over two hundred thousand dollars than he had been when Millbank came into his possession. His wife’s settlement and his mother’s, and his recent heavy expenditures, had drawn largely upon his means for procuring ready money whenever he wanted it, and as he sat at his table, loaded with silver and groaning with luxuries, he felt almost as poor as he had done in days gone by, when he had not enough to pay his tailor and furnish himself with cigars. And still he was rich in lands, and the mill, and houses, and he tried to shake off his feelings of despondency and to believe himself very happy with that beautiful wife beside him, who let him pare her peach for her, and took grapes from his own cluster, and playfully pushed the wine bottle aside when he was about to help himself for a second time.

Mrs. Walter Scott was cold as an icicle, and not all the Judge’s suavity of manner had power to thaw her. She had promised not to say anything disagreeable to the Burleighs, but her face was very expressive of her dislike, and she could hardly answer either the Judge or Charlie with common civility. She did not object to Grace; and she was even guilty of wishing Frank’s choice had fallen upon the younger rather than the elder sister, against whom she could, as yet, bring no accusation, but whom she distrusted and secretly feared. Bell thoroughly understood her mother-in-law, and knew tolerably well how to manage her. As Frank’s wife, she was mistress of Millbank, and though she made no show of her authority, her power was felt in everything; and after she had reigned a month or more, not a servant, with the exception of Mrs. Walter Scott’s own maid, went to their former mistress for orders, but received them from the new lady, who was very popular with them, and who, to a certain extent, was popular in town. She could not endure most of the people by whom she was surrounded; but she had made up her mind that it was better to be admired than hated, and she adopted the rôle of Patroness, or Lady Bountiful, and played her part well, as Frank knew by his purse, so often drawn from when Bell and Grace had some poor family on their hands.

Grace did not go back to school. Millbank was intolerable to the bride without the presence of her light-hearted, merry little sister; and so Grace stayed and studied at home, under a governess, to whom Frank paid five hundred dollars a year; and paid it the more willingly when he found that the pretty Miss North admired him above all men, and was not averse to receiving compliments from him, even in the presence of his wife. Bell did not care how many governesses he complimented, provided he did not say his soft nothings to her. Had he affected a great fondness for her, and bored her with attentions and caresses, she would have hated him, but he had sense enough to see that love-making was not her style, and so he contented himself with being the possessor of the beautiful and expensive article, which he knew better than to handle or touch. She was always very polite and gracious towards him, but after a few weeks he ceased to pet or caress her, and almost always called her Mrs. Irving, and studied her wishes in everything, except in the matter of horses and Holt; there he was his own master, and did as he liked, and bought as many horses as he chose, and went to the races, and bet largely, and made Holt his chief man of business, and gave him money to expend on double teams and single teams, and trusted him implicitly; and when people asked where Holt got his means to live as he was living now, Frank had no suspicions whatever, but said, “Joe Holt was a first-rate chap, the best judge and manager of horses he ever saw, and ought to succeed in life.”

And so the autumn waned, and the Christmas holidays were kept at Millbank on a grand scale, and young people were there from Boston,—friends of Grace and friends of Bell,—and the festivities were kept up sometimes till two or three o’clock in the morning, and some of the young men became very noisy and unmanageable, and among them Charlie, while Frank was undeniably drunk, and was carried to his room and given into the care of his wife! Then Bell rose in her might, and locked up the wine and sent the fast young men home, and gave Charlie a lecture he never forgot, and made him join the Good Templars forthwith, and what was better, made him keep the pledge. What she did to Frank nobody knew,—locked him up, the servants said. At all events, he kept his room for two days, and only came out of it after the New Yorkers were gone to their respective homes. Then he looked very meek and crestfallen, like a naughty boy who has been punished, and his mother pitied him and tried to sympathize, and made him so very angry that he was guilty of swearing at her, and bidding her let him and Bell and their affairs alone. And Mrs. Walter Scott did let them alone for a while, and stayed a great deal in her own room, and had her meals served there, and took to writing a book, for which she always thought she had a talent. It was about mismated people, and the good heroine looked very much like Mrs. Walter Scott, and the bad one like Mrs. Franklin Irving, while the villain was a compound of Judge Burleigh, and Charlie, and Holt, the horse-jockey.