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More than this, he went so far as to promise himself some entertainment from the little drama if drama it was of which Mrs. Penniman desired to represent the ingenious Mr. Townsend as the hero. He had no intention, as yet, of regulating the denouement. He was perfectly willing, as Elizabeth had suggested, to give the young man the benefit of every doubt.
I don't accuse him; I just tell you that that's how it is. He can't help it; we can't govern our affections. Do I govern mine? mightn't he say that to me? It's because he is so fond of my mother, whom we lost so long ago. She was beautiful, and very, very brilliant; he is always thinking of her. I am not at all like her; Aunt Penniman has told me that.
Penniman told him nothing, partly because he never questioned her he made too light of Mrs. Penniman for that and partly because she flattered herself that a tormenting reserve, and a serene profession of ignorance, would avenge her for his theory that she had meddled in the matter. He went two or three times to see Mrs. Montgomery, but Mrs. Montgomery had nothing to impart.
It makes me a bad adviser, perhaps; but it makes me a capital friend!" "A capital friend who gives bad advice!" said Morris. "Not intentionally and who hurries off, at every risk, to make the most humble excuses!" "Well, what do you advise me now?" "To be very patient; to watch and wait." "And is that bad advice or good?" "That is not for me to say," Mrs. Penniman rejoined, with some dignity.
Catherine had a great many cousins, and with her Aunt Almond's children, who ended by being nine in number, she lived on terms of considerable intimacy. When she was younger they had been rather afraid of her; she was believed, as the phrase is, to be highly educated, and a person who lived in the intimacy of their Aunt Penniman had something of reflected grandeur. Mrs.
Sweet, and a rendering of "My Country" and "I would not Change my Lot," and other choice selections by the quartette; and an original poem recited with much feeling by a lady admirer of Miss Lucretia Penniman, and the "Hymn to Coniston" declaimed by Mr. Gamaliel Ives, president of the Brampton Literary Club. But the crowning event is, of course, the oration by Mr.
I have spoken too soon!" "Too soon! Soon or late," Catherine broke out, "you speak foolishly and cruelly!" "What has happened between you, then?" asked her aunt, struck by the sincerity of this cry. "For something certainly has happened." "Nothing has happened but that I love him more and more!" Mrs. Penniman was silent an instant. "I suppose that's the reason you went to see him this afternoon."
Once a week in summer she went to Brampton, to the Social library there, and sat at the feet of that Miss Lucretia Penniman of whom Brampton has ever been so proud Lucretia Penniman, one of the first to sound the clarion note for the intellectual independence of American women; who wrote the "Hymn to Coniston"; who, to the awe of her townspeople, went out into the great world and became editress of a famous woman's journal, and knew Longfellow and Hawthorne and Bryant.
He was going, without having said anything to her; but even on these terms she was glad to have seen him. "I will tell her what you have said when you go!" said Mrs. Penniman, with an insinuating laugh. Catherine blushed, for she felt almost as if they were making sport of her. What in the world could this beautiful young man have said?
Penniman, who had taken in hand the child's accomplishments, overlooking her at the piano, where Catherine displayed a certain talent, and going with her to the dancing-class, where it must be confessed that she made but a modest figure. Mrs.
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