My dear Frank pointed out to me the harbor with the skiffs flying in every direction—the forest of masts with their national flags—the lofty spires pointing heaven-ward—and the stately domes looming up to view, while directly before us are the wharves lined with extensive ware-rooms and store-houses. But I must close the first page in my journal.
Crawford, Tuesday, June 2d.
We reached New York in season for dinner at the Astor House, and for the evening boat to Providence, from which place we took the stage-coach for Crawford; and arrived here about noon. At the public house, which I should judge was a mile distant, we alighted; and I saw a broad-shouldered, well-dressed colored man come eagerly forward and seize the Doctor by the hand, while he cast a glance of curiosity at me.
"This is your young Mistress, Cæsar," said Frank.
Cæsar took off his hat, bowing and scraping in the most approved style; and when I gave him my hand, he exhibited a splendid set of ivory, extending almost from ear to ear.
My husband went with me into the public house, where I remained until he and Cæsar had attended to the baggage. I spent the interim in picturing to myself a rural cottage with a luxuriant vine running over the door. This same vine had always figured largely in my imaginary home, but my fancy had not advanced to the interior, when Frank came to call me.
I cannot account for the impression I had formed, that the Doctor was not a man of wealth; I had even pleased myself vastly with plans of industry, prudence and economy, by which I intended to provide necessaries and even luxuries for the family. The Doctor had carefully avoided all description of our future home, answering me only by smiles, if I ventured to point out a pretty cottage, and to ask whether it resembled ours.
During the drive, Cæsar was eager to tell all the news. He said, "I'se driven de carriage down to meet Mass'r Frank ebery time de stage hab come in for two days. I told Missus," he continued, "better go ebery day for a month, than have young Missus come, and nobody pear dere to welcome her to dis yer home."
Frank laughed heartily as he said, "Your young Mistress will be obliged to you for sustaining the honor of the family."
I was so much interested in looking about me, and in listening to Cæsar's talk with his master, that I had no time to reconcile the idea of a handsome carriage, span of horses, and colored driver with my husband's supposed circumstances—a train of thought which had been started before I left the Inn. But now we were drawing near my new home; and my heart began to beat very fast. I put my hand into Frank's, who pressed it tightly in his.
I was about to go through a very trying scene, to meet a mother and sister, while yet a perfect stranger to them, I feared they would deem me unworthy of their son and brother. My color came and went, if I can judge from the burning of my cheeks. It was with great difficulty, I could keep from weeping. I am sure Frank understood my feelings, for he very gently kissed my forehead, and whispered, "Cora, you will love my mother, and I am very sure she will love you."
I forced back my tears, and tried to show him that I meant to deserve their love. I gave such a start of surprise, when the carriage stopped at the door of a noble mansion that Frank laughing asked, "What?"
"Surely, this is not your house," said I.
"It is our house," he replied in a low tone, as he handed me from the carriage. I had hardly reached the ground, before I was caught in the arms of one of the loveliest girls I ever saw. She kissed me repeatedly; and then sprang to her brother, saying, "now, Frank, that's just like you, not to tell us what a darling she was!"
By this time we had ascended the steps leading from the front entrance, where stood a fine looking woman, (of course she is, for Frank is the image of her), who folded her arms about her new daughter with such a motherly embrace that my heart was at rest. The tears filled my eyes at the melting tone in which she said, as she held our hands joined in hers; "Welcome, my dear son and daughter!"—as if she would fain have blessed our union. She evidently restrained her feelings, and taking my hand under her arm, led me into a large parlor, where there had been a fire on the hearth.
"We hardly expected you to-day," she said, after we were seated; "but Emily would not rest until we came over here from the cottage."
"Don't you reside here?" I asked in surprise.
Mrs. Lenox smiled, and looked at her son, who said pleasantly, "You see, mother, there is very little of Eve about her."
"More than you imagine," I replied; "but I was constrained to suppress my curiosity, as I received such indefinite replies to my questions."
"After to-morrow," added he, "I will answer as many as you please; till then I see one who is ready to answer before she is asked."
Just then, Emily had stolen beside me, and putting her arm around my waist said, "Come with me, if you are not too tired; and I will show you your room."
I went with her; and, my dear mother, I ought to be very happy, and grateful to God for casting my lot in such a pleasant place, and among such kind friends. As soon as we were alone, Emily again embraced me, and said, "I shall love Frank better than ever, for bringing me so dear a sister; now he will be contented to remain at home, instead of roving all over creation." She spoke of her brother with great affection, and said with enthusiasm, "Everybody loves Frank!"
She then pointed out one thing after another, each dear to me as an expression of his love, and his desire to render me happy in my new home. To-morrow I hope to give you a description of the house and grounds, over which, after dinner, I was duly installed mistress.
I have written a long time; but my heart is full, and I find it a relief to tell you how kind my Heavenly Father has been to me.
CHAPTER II.
"Here blend the ties that strengthen
Our hearts in hours of grief,
The silver links that lengthen
Joy's visits when most brief." Bernard Barton.
Wednesday, June 3d.
Dear Mother,—I have just returned from a pleasant drive with Mother, Frank and Emily. You will wonder that I can so soon address any other but yourself by that endearing word, mother; indeed it cost me an effort. But this morning, she came in soon after breakfast, and when I said, joyfully, "good morning, Mrs. Lenox," she kissed me tenderly and said, "can you give me no dearer name, my child?" I looked up in her face, and felt that I could call her "mother." I wish, I could describe to you the impression, she makes upon me. She is very gentle and tender in her manner, particularly so to her only son. She is also cheerful; but I think she must have known what sorrow is, heart-felt, abiding sorrow. Though the expression of her countenance is placid and touchingly sweet, yet, as I watched her yesterday, I could see her eyes fill with tears as she looked at Frank.
I never saw a son more affectionate and respectful to his mother. There is a perfect understanding between them. It was his earnest wish to have her and his sister live with him, as the house is very large; but she thought it not best. The property was left him by his father, and he has put up for her a beautiful English cottage, separated from his dwelling only by the garden, while the carriage drive passes from one to the other.
I promised you a description of my new home. Imagine yourself entering from the street an avenue lined with trees, (linden I think) and winding for about twenty or thirty rods up to a stately mansion. From the carriage drive, you ascend ten or twelve steps to the front entrance, over which is a very fine portico supported by large pillars which are completely covered with a running-rose vine. Entering the outer door, you stand in a spacious hall, which runs directly through the house and opens in the rear upon a piazza extending the entire length of the building. From