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Updated: June 16, 2025
Bovyer, a grave man, not so young as Mr. Winthrop, and who had a genuine passion for classic music. I fancied from his name and partiality for German composers that he must be either directly or remotely of Teutonic origin. Beethoven was his great favorite. He averred that the latter had penetrated further into the mysteries of music than any other human being.
I watched him unlock one of the drawers and take out two envelopes. He came back and stood opposite me at the table. "I received, a few days ago, a letter from my friend Bovyer, in which he enclosed one for you, which I was at liberty to read. Probably I should have submitted it to you earlier, but " He did not finish the sentence, and stood quietly while I read the letter.
"It is quite profitable, chaperoning young ladies, you will find;" he said, dryly. "But, Medoline does not wish to keep hers. She acted quite strangely about it; and insists that I must ask you, if she shall keep it." "Mr. Bovyer would feel aggrieved if we returned his present. I think you must keep it," he said, turning to me.
Flaxman answered hastily for me. "No, indeed; she was too quiet; and only Mr. Bovyer and myself detected the tears dropping behind her fan. But Mr. Bovyer seemed gratified at the meaning he read from them." My face was burning; but after a few seconds' silence I stole a glance at Mr. Winthrop.
Winthrop said, with a graceful bend of the head, which included each of his guests in the list of single blessed ones. "Are you all going to be old bachelors?" I asked, forgetting myself in the surprise of the moment. "I am not aware that we are all irrevocably committed to that terrible fate," Mr. Bovyer said, as he united in the general smile at my expense.
I recalled his face readily, and the impression his manners and conversation had made on my mind. He had fewer years to boast than Mr. Bovyer, but more good looks. I finished his letter, and, still holding it in my hand, unconsciously fell to recalling more distinctly my half-forgotten impressions of his personality.
Bovyer up where the children, growing now very curious over the Christmas Tree, were with difficulty preserving the proprieties of the occasion. He looked them over carefully, as if they were some distinct species from another planet, and then turning to me, said, "Did you say these were all poor children?"
Winthrop a very healthy corrective against any flattering remarks of my other friends, I accept him as a sort of mental tonic," I said, turning to Mr. Bovyer. "Our morning's work is not yet completed," Mr. Winthrop said. "Please excuse me a moment." He went into the library, and returning shortly, he went first to Mrs. Flaxman and gave her a good sized parcel.
Possibly he was afraid the supper might all be consumed. He had paid his fee, and was resolved to get his money's worth. He may have hoped that by some happy chance he might sit down with those with whom he could not expect on any other occasion to have a similar privilege. I paid particular attention to Mr. Bovyer. As we passed Mr.
Bovyer in the rôle of a lover, and also a little troubled about the wording of the report I was expected to give. His smile would be more sarcastic than ever, if I confessed my tears; and, alas, I had but little other impression to convey of the majestic harmonies than one of profound sadness. I glanced into my mirror; the picture reflected back startled me.
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