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Updated: June 25, 2025
She had beauty, wealth, and fame, but she was like the pretty moth that hovers around the flame of the candle, and finds its ruin in the touch of the splendor it loves. Poor Alvira was another child of Solomon that sighed over the emptiness of human joy; for bitter disappointment is the sad tale ever told in the realization of misguided hope.
Send us your check for $1,000 and you will hear no more of this matter. "Respectfully, "WILLIAM BLACK, Attorney-at-Law, "Pennyville, N. Y." "Oh, father!" I cried, "I swear to you this is not my fault!" Looking up in distress I saw that my parent was laughing. "I have heard of Alvira before," said he; "no, it is not your fault, my poor boy.
Let me see, Alvira was thirty twenty-one years ago when I was married to your ma. I used to be in Pennyville sometimes, in those days, and she was sweet on me, John, then. I'll answer this letter, and answer it to her, and not her lawyer. Don't you be uneasy, my son. I'll tend to her. But you had a narrow escape; I don't wonder you, with your bashfulness, fled homeward to your ma."
Nor was the boy alone in regarding as a direct manifestation of Providence the sudden removal of Cousin Bill J. from this life by means of pneumonia. For Miss Alvira had ever been esteemed and respected even by those who considered that she sang alto half a note off, while her husband had gradually acquired the disesteem of almost the entire village of Edom.
Alvira obeyed. She was thunderstruck. The revelation of the great secrets of her life summoned up paralyzing fears; but, accustomed to brave the succumbing weakness of the feminine character, and encouraged by the paternal manner of the father, she did not faint, but buried her face in her hands and wept. In silence she followed Father Francis.
He heard with interest that Squire Cumpston had urged Miss Alvira to divorce her husband, that she had refused, declaring God had joined her to Cousin Bill J. and that no man might put them asunder; that marriage had been raised by Christ to the dignity of a sacrament and was now indissoluble an emblem, indeed, of Christ's union with His Church; and that, as she had made her bed, so would she lie upon it.
He had not failed to observe that Miss Alvira sang alto, in the choir, out of the same book from which Cousin Bill J. produced his exquisite tenor.
Francis embracing his brother. "Go," said the saintly man to the invalid "go with courage and confidence whither God thy father calls thee, and where the saints await thee. Remember God is a good master, and know that in a short time I will follow thee." Then drawing Alvira aside, he whispered to her: "My child, know that Cataldus is going with rapid strides to eternity.
And when the hour foreseen by this great saint, in which death was to place his cold hand on the brow of Cataldus, was at hand, the couch of the dying was again blessed by his spirit; but Alvira did not on this occasion see him, but she saw the recognition that cast a beam of joy over the face of the dying man, and she heard the sweet accents of consolation the saint was permitted to impart.
Beasley's second-mourning bonnet. And she's had to cut him down to twenty-five cents a day for spending-money, and order the stores not to trust him one cent on her account." He was sorry to have Miss Alvira crying so much. It must be a sloppy business, making her hats and things. But what did the woman expect of a man like Cousin Bill J., anyway?
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