“Father,” I said, lifting reverently upward the eyes that had been wandering over the beautified scene, “Father, accept Thou the love of Thy child. Help her to be always thankful to Thee.”
But, directly, between me and the Father, between me and His glorious earth came dark visions of my poor home, and of my parents, held back from a clear strong life, by their shame-faced poverty and pride. For you must be told, friend of mine, that we are much poorer than even you, who have seen us all and our home many and many a time, believe; and that we grow really poorer every day, because, with all our pains-taking and studiously-contrived appearances of competency, my father makes no head-way in engrossing popularity, and, therewith, the business that pays liberally. We brush and brush--or papa and mamma do--to move the dust and bring back the old polish and prime, and then go forth with lofty heads and independent feet; and papa talks in a brisk way of “My client A--; my clients, Messrs. B-- and C--;” of the case of D-- _versus_ E--, and F-- _versus_ G--. Meanwhile, you have seen what mamma does--with what care she preserves her fine complexion, her natural graceful curls, into which the threads of silver are already coming; her cashmere long shawl and black silk gown, that were hers at her marriage--they look no older than most shawls and gowns do after five years’ service, and they have seen twenty-five. In these she goes out to the shops, and looks at carpets and mirrors and _tête-à-têtes_, as if she were a duchess. And she lets it be known, if it will come in gracefully in any way, that she is Mrs. Hedelquiver, and that her husband is Jerome Hedelquiver, Attorney at Law, V-- Street. My father really did get a case, worth a hundred dollars to him, of a dealer, who hoped that, in compliment thereto, my mother would spend all the fee and other additional fees for his upholstery.
We laughed over it. My father called it “capital;” but he and my mother both sighed after it. I presume their souls--so deep within them, so gentle toned as seldom to be heard above the clamor that “the strong circumstances” make in controlling the hands, the lips, and the brain--spake then so as to be heeded, though not long. The hands, the lips, and the brain soon took up again their worldly, time-serving ways. My father talked again of his clients, my mother priced velvets and Axminsters. I would not say this to you, dear Edith, but that you have already seen the same when visiting us; and but that you are the friend of my soul, to whom I must speak of that which is so poor and so sorrowful to me, especially now that I have looked attentively upon uncle’s sincere, manly life.