Mrs. Miller

“ Miller was a mere cipher about his premises. If any one came on business connected with the farm, he would invariably say, “Wait till I see my wife,” and the wife's opinion was sure to be law in every case. Bankrupt in character, and debauched in body and mind, with seven mulatto children who claimed him as their father, he was badly prepared to find fault with his son-in-law. It was settled that Mrs. Miller should use her own discretion in removing Isabella from her little cottage, and her future disposition. With this understanding Henry and Gertrude returned home. ”

“ For, when all is said, an invalid wife whom a clergyman sees no more frequently than an invalid parishioner and with whom he holds no conversation whatever is scarcely to be classed among family cares.
It was only the other Miller girl who recognised the elusive quality that made up a large part of the charm which everyone felt in the man. Likewise when this quality had taken flight, temporarily or irretrievably, it was Anna Miller who guessed the secret of its loss. Everyone knew that the minister had never forgotten his little daughter who had died. ”

“ The card was Orvice’s. The girl was still sufficiently objective to be as much pleased with the flowers themselves as with the fact that Jerry had taken the trouble to send them to her. She enjoyed the enforced calm of her reception of them, as if it were an hourly occurrence, to match the perfect calm of the butler, to whom, indeed, it was. Her whole life now had this delightful element of unreality, as if she were playing an exciting and complicated game. Other women might dress for balls; Marie Louise “dressed up,” as frankly as a little girl on a rainy day. ”

“ The girlish mother leaned a little forward as she sat in the low rocking-chair, her bright curls falling over the loosely flowing white dress like a golden glory. Her pure, innocent eyes looked down at the babe that nestled in her arms, and a low murmur of tenderness escaped her lips.
"My Birdie! my baby!"
"Still sitting up, Grace?"
It was the voice of her husband entering to pay his nightly visit to the little bright-eyed babe—sole heir of his proud name and wealth.
"I am not tired," she answered, in her fresh young voice, "and our little darling is so sweet I cannot bear to lay him down. ”

“ He hoped that his lower jaw hadn’t fallen, but she really was extraordinarily beautiful; and he could not help slowing down a little. She stopped, with her hand on the banisters, like Louise of Prussia.
“Oh, you’re Mr. Riatt,” she said, very gently. “You know you’re most awfully late.”
“I wish,” he said, “that I were wise enough to be able to say: ‘Oh, you’re Miss ——’”
“I might be a Mrs.”
“Oh, I hope not,” he answered. “Are you?”
She smiled.
“You’ll know as soon as you come down to dinner.” ”

“ Those are wonderful men, and going on the finest trip——-”
“Wasn't your train a little late?”
“No, just on time, but I stopped to see Marie Louise on my way; only,” he laughed, “she was out. Isn’t that a blow to a man who supposes himself impatiently awaited? I shall go back as soon as I’ve brushed myself up a little.”
Mrs. Orvice felt that the moment had come. “Jerry,” she said portentously, “she was not out.”
“Not out? Why, what do you mean?”
“She came here this morning. The poor girl is in great distress. She will not see you. She wishes to break off her engagement. ”

“ What are we for but that? I can’t think of anything, unless I ran off and married the coachman, and he’s married already,” she added, with a faint attempt at hilarity.
Mrs. Orvice drew the girl down beside her on the sofa. “You are taking this too hard,” she said. “There is only one thing for you to do. You must see Jerry and tell him everything. He has a right to be heard, you know.”
“Now, how silly that is,” cried Marie Louise, utterly unconscious of being uncivil. “Don’t you know what he'll say?—that, of course, I am to marry him just the same. And what am I in Jerry’s hands? ”

“ She looked sad. “Dear me,” she murmured, “I’m afraid he is not much good, after all.”
“Oh, your sex’s fatal desire to come to a conclusion! The longer you delay a conclusion, Miss Lee, the better it is. Anyhow, I elicited this much; it won’t be that,” and he nodded above them, where Marie Louise in bronze paillettes was drawing all eyes to her box.
“Oh, I could have told you that myself,” returned Miss Lee, with more confidence than she felt. “He has too much taste and love of——”
“Of you,” Peale put in.
“Of breeding, I was going to say. He does not love me.” ”

“ Miller, is it possible that you can doubt it?"
The elder man pointed with contemptuous significance to the sunshade before him.
"I find upon your table, young man, the evidences of the recent presence of some wretched woman in your rooms, and your confusion of manner shows me too plainly that you are not the kind of husband to which a man may safely entrust his daughter's happiness."
"Mr. Miller, I assure you you are mistaken; it is not so."
"Every man in this country has a right to justify himself when he is accused. ”

“ Miller stop you. Make her eat something. Tell her I said she must. And, first of all, get your bonnet, and go to that apothecary's,—Flint's,—for a bottle of port wine, for Mrs. Miller. Hold on. There's the order." (He had a leaf out of his pocket-book in a minute, and wrote it down.) "Go with this the first thing. Ring Flint's bell, and he'll wake up. And here's something for your own Christmas dinner, to-morrow." Out of the roll of bills he drew one of the tens—Globe Bank—Boston—and gave it to Mrs. Flanagan. ”

“ The maid returned in a moment.
"Mr. Le Roy is with his mother. He desires that you will not disturb her," she said.
Laurel answered quietly.
"You may go away, and leave me now, Marie, I wish to be alone for awhile."
When the maid had gone she went to the window, drew back the rich curtains of silk and lace and gazed out upon the scene. Night had fallen—the beautiful moonlit summer night. The perfume of roses and honeysuckles came floating heavily on the soft air, the wide expanse of the Hudson shone like a silver sea.
"I must go away from Eden," said the girl-wife to herself, drearily. ”

“ Of course, my dear, this is only between you and me."
A man is not always heroic to the wife of his bosom. Mrs. Miller went her way and left him to his righteous struggle among the Patagonian blue-books. After all, she said to herself, it had been her duty to inform him of his daughter's conduct, but it was needless to discuss the question further with him. He was incapable of approaching it from her own point of view. It would be better for her now to go her own way independently of him. She had always been accustomed to manage things her own way. ”

“ From that moment until the day of her death, all intercourse with her family and friends was cut off. How great were her sufferings, no one can know. They must have been nearly up to the level of human endurance.
I learned this much from one who had been intimate with all the circumstances. He remembered the duel very well, but had never before understood the true cause. My informant had no knowledge whatever of Mrs. Miller from the time of her divorce up to the period of my inquiries. Miller himself still lived. ”

“ The medicine bottles had been cleared away and the stand that had held them was adorned only by the framed photograph of little Ella May’s monument resting on a gay mat of shaded red worsteds.
[172] Nevertheless it was not this transformation which the other Miller girl noticed first, nor was it considerable in comparison with the real transformation. After a vague, momentary realisation of the sunshine and the gorgeous purple and crimson roses of the border of the carpet, the girl was lost in wonder as she stared incredulously at the figure in the familiar yet strange arm chair. ”

“ Meanwhile, the movement of the cone interested Miller more than the messages. "How does she do it?" he exclaimed several times. "To touch Mrs. Miller means that the psychic must not only have free use of her hands: she must rise from her chair and pass behind me and the wall." ”

“ She always makes a fuss if I introduce a gentleman. But I DO introduce them—almost always. If I didn’t introduce my gentlemen friends to Mother,” the young girl added in her little soft, flat monotone, “I shouldn’t think I was natural.”
“To introduce me,” said Winterbourne, “you must know my name.” And he proceeded to pronounce it.
“Oh, dear, I can’t say all that!” said his companion with a laugh. But by this time they had come up to Mrs. Miller, who, as they drew near, walked to the parapet of the garden and leaned upon it, looking intently at the lake and turning her back to them. ”

“ Miller told me I wasn’t to come near the station if I couldn’t keep from bawling. So I got through with my crying beforehand and at the last I said to him, ‘Good luck, Miller, and if you come back you'll find I haven't changed any, and if you don’t come back I’ll always be proud you went, and in any case don’t fall in love with a French girl.’ Miller swore he wouldn’t, but you never can tell about those fascinating foreign hussies. ”

“ The Millers had one daughter, Maud, born on Sixes River, north of Port Orford, in 1864. Mrs. Belle W. Cooke of Salem kept her for a while after the divorce. Byronically, Miller later took her from her mother and placed her in a convent school. She became an actress, and died in 1901. There is a fuller note on her in the chapter "A Century of Literary Gossip." The following poem was written of the two younger children —boys, George B. and Harry, born in Canyon City — whom Mrs. Miller had taken to the home of her mother after the divorce. ”

“ The pretty shawl fell from her shoulders, and lay, like a great brilliant rose, unheeded on the floor; the long, sweeping train of her blue cashmere morning-dress flowed over it as she walked, the white ermine on her breast and at her throat trembling with the agitated throbs of her heart. Her pure, pale cheek, her eyes darkening under their black lashes, the white, innocent brow, the mobile lips, all showed the trace of suffering bravely borne; but now the patient spirit, tried too deeply, rose within her in desperate rebellion. ”

“ There is no faith nor truth in woman. They are bad and mercenary to the core—all of them, except my honored mother. Yet my wife has the face of an angel. Who would have believed that the greed of gold could have tempted her to such a sin!"
Mrs. Le Roy stirred and opened her eyes. They rested wistfully on the stern, impassive face of her son.
"Your wife, St. Leon," she said, faintly. "Have you forgiven her?"
"Could there be any forgiveness for such falsity as hers, mother?" he asked, turning sternly toward her.
A sigh breathed over Mrs. Le Roy's lips. ”

“ Every one was utterly mercenary, she thought.
She was received in the large salon, all gilt and modern tapestry, by Marie Louise, beaming with happiness and a desire to be approved.
In her own room, the girl had revolved the propriety of addressing Mrs. Orvice as “mother.” For, after all, what could be tenderer than her relation to Jerry’s parent? ”

“ Lorraine, who had come out of her shell almost unbelievably in her week of companionship with Miss Penny, so that now in the crisis she was a very tower of strength not only to Miss Penny but to the Miller household as well, began to be greatly troubled by her daughter’s demeanour. She had rejoiced at the manner in which the girl had bloomed under Anna’s influence, and had been amazed not only at her capacity for learning and power of adaptability but at the generous warmth and sweetness of her nature. She had believed that a real transformation had taken place. ”

“ Nevertheless, vain as she undoubtedly was, Anna Miller did not attach undue weight to any of these qualities, and otherwise would have been likely to rate her own powers lower than anyone else would have done. Enjoying life thoroughly, and perhaps more consciously than is usual at her years, she was quite content to be the ‘other Miller girl’ and to endeavor to stop any portion she might of the gap left in hearts and households by Rusty’s absence. ”

“ Miller's asseveration of a notable want of moral particularity at Newton Centre. The very first time I went out to a Sunday-school social thereafter it was made plain to me that if I wanted to take up the annual Library entertainment, it was open to me.
"And I always will say," Mrs. Miller conceded, "that there's nobody can make your children seem such a credit to you as Mrs. Bettersworth."
"It's a regular talent you have," Mrs. Harvey backed her up, "like a person in the Bible." ”

“ Miller social advantages that have made her club work especially valuable. Artistic and literary in her tastes, and possessing tact, graciousness, and executive ability, she has held many club offices and rendered efficient service.
Mrs. Miller is an hereditary life member and vice-president for Massachusetts of the National Mary Washington Memorial Association. She belongs to the Daughters of the American Revolution, having been one of the first members of the society in Massachusetts and a member of the first chapter organized, the Warren and Prescott. ”

“ Young as she was, Anna Miller had one quality seldom gained before middle age, and rare even then,—a truly humourous outlook upon the world. The girl viewed life and her fellow human beings almost in the detached manner of a philosopher, yet warmly and sympathetically withal. ”