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Updated: September 1, 2025
There was a whist party at somebody's house every Wednesday evening. Alice had selected the present for one, and had invited more than the usual number. I asked Mr. Somers to come. "Dress coat?" he inquired. "Oh, no." "Is Rosville highly starched?" "Oh, no." "I'll be sure to go into society, then, as long as I can go limp." He bowed, and, retiring with Dr.
I composed my feelings by putting it away carefully and unpacking my trunk. Rosville was a county town. The courts were held there, and its society was adorned with several lawyers of note who had law students, which fact was to the lawyers' daughters the most agreeable feature of their fathers' profession. It had a weekly market day and an annual cattle show.
Nobody in Rosville lived at so fast a rate as the Morgesons. The oldest families there were not the richest the Ryders, in particular. Judge Ryder had four unmarried daughters; they were the only girls in our set who never invited us to visit them. They could not help saying, with a fork of the neck, "Who are the Morgesons?" But all the others welcomed Cousin Alice, and were friendly with me.
The day they went I had a letter from father which informed me that mother would not come to Rosville. He reminded me that I had been in Rosville over a year. "I am going home soon," I said to myself, putting away the letter. It was a summer day, bright and hot. Alice, busy all day, complained of fatigue and went to bed soon after tea.
"Not like yours, in the least," he continued. "'Cassandra is very handsome now, is she? "'Why, Veronica, said your mother, 'you astonish Mr. Somers. "'You are not astonished, she said with vehemence, 'you are embarrassed. "'Upon my soul I am, I replied, feeling at ease as soon as I had said so. "'Tell me, what has Cassandra been taught? Is Rosville suited to her? We are not.
We might be sure that we should never find our old level, however happy and forgetful we might grow. She bore us all in mind but sent no message, except to Aunt Merce; she must come to Rosville before summer was over. And could she assist me by taking Arthur for a while? Edward was a quiet, companionable lad, and Arthur would be safe with him at home and at school.
This degree of religious vitality accorded with the habits of its generations. Surrey and Barmouth would have howled over the Total Depravity of Rosville. There was no probationary air about it. Human Nature was the infallible theme there. At first I missed the vibration of the moral sword which poised in our atmosphere.
Rosville was larger and handsomer than Surrey. "That is my house, on the right," he said. We looked down the shady street through which we were going, and saw a modern cottage, with a piazza, and peaked roof, and on the side toward us a large yard, and stables. We drove into the yard, and a woman came out on the piazza to receive us. It was Mrs. Morgeson, or "My wife, Cousin Alice," as Mr.
She took it, and, tossing it on the bed, gave Byron to the child to play with, and went on with the hair-dressing. "There, now," she said, "is not this a masterpiece of barber's craft? Look at the back of your head, and then come down." "Yes, I will, for I feel better." When I returned to my room again it was like meeting a confidential friend. A few days after, father came to Rosville.
His being considered a hard man did not detract from the interest he inspired. My advent in Rosville might be considered a fortunate one; appearances indicated it; I am sure I thought so, and was very well satisfied with my position. I conformed to the ways of the family with ease, even in the matter of small breakfasts and light suppers.
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