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Updated: May 6, 2025
He read the letter through, and re-read it, his countenance indicating considerable satisfaction, which presently was lost in an expression of puzzled wonder. "Fred," said he to the miserable lieutenant, who started to his feet as a prisoner expecting a severe sentence might do, "what in creation did you write Mrs. Wittleday?"
Wittleday, and then the look which accompanied his bow and raised hat was so solemn, that his fair neighbor was unusually sober herself for a few moments, while she wondered whether she could in any way have given the major offense.
The young warrior went through the ordeal with only tolerable composure, and improved his first opportunity to escape and regain the society of the hostess. Two or three moments later, just as Mrs. Wittleday turned aside to speak to stately old Judge Bray, the lieutenant found himself being led rapidly toward the veranda.
The young man's words rang constantly in his ears, and before the major had thought many moments, he determined to do exactly what he was asked to do. This silly performance of the lieutenant's would, of course, put an end to the acquaintanceship of the major and Mrs. Wittleday, unless that lady were most unusually gracious.
Wittleday in city society before her husband's death, and who had maintained a bowing-acquaintance with her during her widowhood, gravely presented the lieutenant to Mrs. Wittleday, made a gallant speech about the debt society owed to her for again condescending to smile upon it, and then presented his respects to the nearest of the several groups of ladies who were gazing invitingly at him.
Wittleday, the sole and widowed owner of the great Wittleday property, had wearied of the mourning she wore for the husband she had buried two years previously, and that she would soon publicly announce the fact by laying aside her weeds and giving a great entertainment, to which every one was to be invited. There was considerable high-toned deprecation of so early a cessation of Mrs.
"A great many others think so, too, Fred I do myself but they don't make it so plagued evident on short acquaintance. Behave yourself, now your eyesight is good sit down and play the agreeable to some old lady, and look at Mrs. Wittleday across the room, as often as you like."
"I don't want to know all these queer, old-fashioned people; they're worse than a lot of plebes at West Point." "I don't mean that, Fred, though, if you don't want to make talk, you must make yourself agreeable. But you're too attentive to Mrs. Wittleday." "By George," responded the lieutenant, eagerly, "how can I help it? She's divine!"
And yet, why shouldn't she marry him? women have done stranger things; and he's a great deal more attractive-looking than an old campaigner like myself. Well, God bless 'em both, and have mercy on an old coward!" The major looked toward the Wittleday mansion.
Wonder what he'd do if some one were to marry her almost before his very eyes, as poor Wittleday did while I was longing for her acquaintance?
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