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"O, the lady must have been so glad to get to heaven!" exclaimed little Alice. "Grandfather, what became of Mr. Johnson?" asked Clara. "His heart appears to have been quite broken," answered Grandfather; "for he died at Boston within a month after the death of his wife. He was buried in the very same tract of ground, where he had intended to build a dwelling for Lady Arbella and himself.
Meantime Arbella, who after all was human, was tortured at the sight of his tortures. She felt she must end it, or her nerves would give way. She trebled, she quintupled the dose of aqua distillata embittered with quinine. He then swiftly took the phial from its hiding place and drank the contents and died in one ghastly minute. When the night nurse awoke he was crisped in a horrible rigor.
"Did Michael believe she really had done it? She, for one, could believe anything about a woman who obviously dyed her hair and improved her eyebrows. Was Mr. Williams's defence of Arbella so very wonderful as the evening papers said? Why could he not have gone straight home and rested there?
And now, my children, I would have you fancy yourselves in the cabin of the good ship Arbella; because if you could behold the passengers aboard that vessel, you would feel what a blessing and honor it was for New England to have such settlers. They were the best men and women of their day.
"This chair is supposed to have been made of an oak-tree which grew in the park of the English Earl of Lincoln between two and three centuries ago. In its younger days it used, probably, to stand in the hall of the earl's castle. Do not you see the coat of arms of the family of Lincoln carved in the open work of the back? But when his daughter, the Lady Arbella, was married to a certain Mr.
He was not without his vanities, though one of the most cynical men of his cynical period. He arrived therefore at the decision that he would marry some young and buxom creature of decent birth and fit in appearance to be a peeress, and decided on Arbella Rossiter. After a gulp or two and several moues behind his back, she accepted him.
Lady Arbella Johnson, coming "from a paradise of plenty and pleasure, which she enjoyed in the family of a noble earldom, into a wilderness of wants," survived her arrival only a month; and her husband, esteemed and beloved by the colonists, died of grief a few weeks after. "He was a holy man and wise and died in sweet peace." From Palfrey's "History of New England."
He was not a very nervy chap, and was terrified almost to death, as it was. "What is your name?" demanded the detective. "Why do you wish to know my name?" The man spoke in a loud tone, when the detective said: "Speak low, old man very low, or you'll never speak again. Now wink." The man winked, and the detective said: "Now tell me your name?" "My name is Arbella." "Your name is Arbella?" "Yes."
They had met again at a garden party and fallen once more deeply in love. If only her tiresome old Borgia would die was the thought that came too often into the mind of Arbella, now entering the "thirties" of life, and with the least possible misgiving of her Colonel's constancy if she became presently "un peu trop mûre."
"Our good old chair being thus glorified," proceeded Grandfather, "it glittered with a great deal more splendor than it had exhibited just a century before, when the Lady Arbella brought it over from England. Most people mistook it for a chair of the latest London fashion.
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