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Updated: June 16, 2025
"I have never pretended to have as much sense as a man, and I hope nobody has ever accused me of anything so unwomanly but there are some things you can't teach your wife, with all your experience." Mr. Burwell stroked the plump hand on his arm and smiled in returning self-esteem. "And you are quite sure he fancies Sally?" he inquired. "I know it," replied his wife decisively.
They had a reception the whole of the morning. Crowds came. Wounded soldiers, servants, and working-men even. The sweetest little children namesakes dressed to their eyes, with bouquets of japonica or tiny cards in their little fat hands with their names. Robert Burwell, of Clarke, who married Miss Clayton there; Randall, author of 'My Maryland'; General McLaws, Wright, Gardner, and many others.
Burwell!" she exclaimed, "did you think that it was you or I or your grandfather's portrait?" Her husband looked slightly abashed. "So you have observed it?" he asked in an injured tone. Mrs. Burwell laid her brush aside and crossed the room to where he stood. "Everybody knows you are a very clever man, Mr. Burwell," she said.
With his old partner's desertion, it seemed to Burwell that the world was leagued against him. It was only three weeks from the day on which he had received the mysterious card; yet in that time he had lost all that he valued in the world, wife, friends, and business. What next to do with the fatal card was the sickening problem that now possessed him.
Seeing that they were losing ground, one of the printers fired at the fleeing shadow, his shot being followed by a scream of pain, and hurrying up they found a man writhing on the ground. The man was Richard Burwell.
"I must tell you, though," he said, "that I have had great difficulty in accomplishing this, and your liberty is granted only on condition that you leave the country within twenty-four hours, and never under any conditions return." Burwell stormed, raged, and pleaded; but it availed nothing.
"Mr. Burwell is dead, is he not?" were his first words. "Who told you?" "No one told me, but I know it, and I thank God for it." There was something in the stranger's intense earnestness that convinced me of his right to speak thus, and I listened attentively.
"I can't abide him," she had once declared passionately to Sally Burwell. "Somehow, he always gets the best of everything." When, after the first few years, Nicholas Burr entered the schoolroom and took his place upon one of the short green benches, Mrs. Webb called upon the judge in person and demanded an explanation.
But nothing that Burwell could do or say availed against his friend's decision. There was nothing for it but that Evelyth should buy his partner's share of the business or that Burwell buy out the other. The man was more than fair in the financial proposition he made; he was generous, as he always had been, but his determination was inflexible; the two must separate. And they did.
After twenty years of married life in which Galt had learned her limitations and her minor sins of temperament, he was not able to face her stainless bosom or to meet her pure eyes without believing her to be a saint. In his heart he knew Sally Burwell to be a nobler woman than Juliet, and yet he never found himself regarding Sally through an outward and visible veil of her virtues.
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