THE FEMALE WARD.
Most men have two or more souls, and Jem Thalimer
was a doublet, with sets of manners corresponding.
Indeed one identity could never have served the
pair of him! When sad—that is to say, when in disgrace
or out of money—he had the air of a good man
with a broken heart. When gay—flush in pocket
and happy in his little ambitions—you would have
thought him a dangerous companion for his grandmother.
The last impression did him more injustice
than the first, for he was really very amiably disposed
when depressed, and not always wicked when gay—
but he made friends in both characters. People sel
dom forgive us for compelling them to correct their
first impressions of us, and as this was uniformly the
case with Jem, whether he had begun as saint or sinner,
he was commonly reckoned a deep-water fish;
and, where there were young ladies in the case, early
warned off the premises. The remarkable exception
to this rule, in the incident I am about to relate, arose,
as may naturally be supposed, from his appearing, during
a certain period, in one character only.
To begin my story fairly, I must go back for a moment
to our junior Jem in college, showing, by a little
passage in our adventures, how Thalimer and I
became acquainted with the confiding gentleman to
be referred to.
A college suspension, very agreeably timed, in June,
left my friend Jem and myself masters of our travels
for an uncertain period; and as our purse was always
in common, like our shirts, love-letters, and disgraces,
our several borrowings were thrust into a wallet which
was sometimes in his pocket, sometimes in mine, as
each took the turn to be paymaster. With the (intercepted)
letters in our pockets, informing the governors
of our degraded position, we travelled very
prosperously on—bound to Niagara, but very ready to fall
into any obliquity by the way. We arrived at Albany,
Thalimer chancing to be purser, and as this function
tacitly conferred, on the holder, all other responsibilities,
I made myself comfortable at the hotel for the
second day and the third—up to the seventh—rather
wondering at Jem's depressed spirits and the sudden
falling off of his enthusiasm for Niagara, but content
to stay if he liked, and amusing myself in the
side-hill city passably well. It was during my rambles
without him in this week that he made the acquaintance
of a bilious-looking person lodging at the
same hotel—a Louisianian on a tour of health. This
gentleman, whom he introduced to me by the name
of Dauchy, seemed to have formed a sudden attachment
to my friend, and as Jem had a “secret sorrow”
unusual to him, and the other an unusual secretion
of bile, there was of course between them that “secret
sympathy” which is the basis of many tender
friendships. I rather liked Mr. Dauchy. He seemed
one of those chivalric, polysyllabic southerners, incapable
of a short word or a mean action, and, interested
that Jem should retain his friendship, I was not sorry
to find our departure follow close on the recovery of
his spirits.
We went on toward Niagara, and in the irresistible
confidence of canal travelling I made out the secret
of my fidus achates. He had attempted to alleviate
the hardship of a deck-passage for a bright-eyed girl
on board the steamer, and, on going below to his
berth, left her his greatcoat for a pillow. The stuffed
wallet, which somewhat distended the breast-pocket,
was probably in the way of her downy cheek, and
Jem supposed that she simply forgot to return the
“removed deposite”—but he did not miss his money
till twelve hours after, and then, between lack of
means to pursue her, and shame at the sentiment he
had wasted, he kept the disaster to himself, and passed
a melancholy week in devising means for replenishing.
Through this penseroso vein, however, lay his way
out of the difficulty, for he thus touched the soul
and funds of Mr. Dauchy. The correspondence
(commenced by the repayment of the loan) was kept
up stragglingly for several years, bolstered somewhat
by barrels of marmalade, boxes of sugar, hommony,
&c., till finally it ended in the unlooked-for consignment
which forms the subject of my story.
Jem and myself had been a year out of college, and
were passing through that “tight place” in life, commonly
understood in New England as “the going in
at the little end of the horn.” Expected by our parents
to take to money-making like ducks to swimming,
deprived at once of college allowance, called
on to be men because our education was paid for, and
frowned upon at every manifestation of a lingering
taste for pleasure—it was not surprising that we, sometimes
gave tokens of feeling “crowded,” and obtained
somewhat the reputation of “bad subjects”—(using
this expressive phrase quite literally). Jem's share
of this odor of wickedness was much the greater, his
unlucky deviltry of countenance doing him its usual
disservice; but like the gentleman to whom he was
attributed as a favorite protegé, he was “not so black
as he was painted.”
We had been so fortunate as to find one believer in
the future culmination of our clouded stars—Gallagher,
“mine host”—and for value to be received when
our brains should fructify, his white soup and “red-string
Madeira,” his game, turtle, and all the forthcomings
of the best restaurant of our epoch, were
served lovingly and charged moderately. Peace be
with the ashes of William Gallagher! “The brains”
have fructified, and “the value” has been received—
but his name and memory are not “filed away” with
the receipt; and though years have gone over his
grave, his modest welcome, and generous dispensation
of entertainment and service, are, by one at least of
those who enjoyed them, gratefully and freshly remembered!
We were to dine as usual at Gallagher's at six—one
May day which I well remember. I was just addressing
myself to my day's work, when Jem broke into
my room with a letter in his hand, and an expression
on his face of mingled embarrassment and fear.
“What the deuce to do with her!” said he, handing
me the letter.
“A new scrape, Jem?” I asked, as I looked for an
instant at the Dauchy coat-of-arms on a seal as big as
a dollar.
“Scrape?—yes, it is a scrape!—for I shall never
get out of it reputably. What a dunce old Dauchy
must be to send me a girl to educate! I a young
lady's guardian! Why, I shall be the laugh of the
town! What say? Isn't it a good one?”
I had been carefully perusing the letter while Thalimer
walked soliloquizing about the room. It was
from his old friend of marmalades and sugars, and in
the most confiding and grave terms, as if Jem and he
had been a couple of contemporaneous old bachelors,
it consigned to his guardianship and friendly counsel,
Miss Adelmine Lasacque, the only daughter of a
neighboring planter! Mr. Lasacque having no friends
at the north, had applied to Mr. Dauchy for his guidance
in the selection of a proper person to superintend
her education, and as Thalimer was the only correspondent
with whom Mr. Dauchy had relations of
friendship, and was, moreover, “fitted admirably for
the trust by his impressive and dignified address,” (?)
he had “taken the liberty,” &c., &c.
“Have you seen her?” I asked, after a long laugh,
in which Jem joined but partially.
“No, indeed! She arrived last night in the New
Orleans packet, and the captain brought me this letter
at daylight, with the young lady's compliments.
The old seadog looked a little astounded when I announced
myself. Well he might, faith! I don't look
like a young lady's guardian, do I?”
“Well—you are to go on board and fetch her—is
that it?”
“Fetch her! Where shall I fetch her? Who is
to take a young lady of my fetching? I can't find a
female academy that I can approve—”
I burst into a roar of laughter, for Jem was in earnest
with his scruples, and looked the picture of unhappiness.
“I say I can't find one in a minute—don't laugh,
you blackguard!—and where to lodge her meantime?
What should I say to the hotel-keepers? They all
know me? It looks devilish odd, let me tell you, to
bring a young girl, without matron or other acquaintances
than myself, and lodge her at a public house.”
“Your mother must take your charge off your
hands.”
“Of course that was the first thing I thought of.
You know my mother! She don't half believe the
story, in the first place. If there is such a man as
Mr. Dauchy, she says, and if this is a `Miss Lasacque,'
all the way from Louisiana, there is but one
thing to do—send her back in the packet she came
in! She'll have nothing to do with it! There's
more in it than I am willing to explain. I never
mentioned this Mr. Dauchy before. Mischief will come
of it! Abduction's a dreadful thing! If I will make
myself notorious, I need not think to involve my
mother and sisters! That's the way she talks about it.”
“But couldn't we mollify your mother?—for, after
all, her countenance in the matter will be expected.”
“Not a chance of it!”
“The money part of it is all right?”
“Turn the letter over. Credit for a large amount
on the Robinsons, payable to my order only!”
“Faith! it's a very hard case if a nice girl with
plenty of money can't be permitted to land in Boston!
You didn't ask the captain if she was pretty?”
“No, indeed! But pretty or plain, I must get her
ashore and be civil to her. I must ask her to dine!
I must do something besides hand her over to a
boarding-school! Will you come down to the ship
with me?”
My curiosity was quite aroused, and I dressed immediately.
On our way down we stopped at Gallagher's,
to request a little embellishment to our ordinary dinner.
It was quite clear, for a variety of reasons, that she must
dine with her guardian there, or nowhere. Gallagher
looked surprised, to say the least, at our proposition
to bring a young lady to dine with us, but he made no
comment beyond a respectful remark that “No. 2
was very private!”
We had gone but a few steps from Devonshire
street when Jem stopped in the middle of the side-walk.
“We have not decided yet what we are to do with
Miss Lasacque all day, nor where we shall send her
baggage, nor where she is to lodge to-night. For
Heaven's sake, suggest something!” added Jem, quite
out of temper.
“Why, as you say, it would be heavy work to walk
her about the streets from now till dinner-time—eight
hours or more! Gallagher's is only an eating-house,
unluckily, and you are so well known at all the hotels,
that, to take her to one of them without a chaperon,
would, to say the least, give occasion for remark.
But here, around the corner, is one of the best boarding-houses
in town, kept by the two old Misses Smith.
You might offer to put her under their protection.
Let's try.”
The Misses Smith were a couple of reduced gentlewomen,
who charged a very good price for board
and lodging, and piqued themselves on entertaining
only very good company. Begging Jem to assume
the confident tone which the virtuous character of his
errand required, I rang at the door, and in answer to
our inquiry for the ladies of the house, we were shown
into the basement parlor, where the eldest Miss Smith
sat with her spectacles on, adding new vinegar to some
pots of pickles. Our business was very briefly stated.
Miss Smith had plenty of spare room. Would we
wait a moment till she tied on the covers to her pickle-jars?
The cordiality of the venerable demoiselle evidently
put Thalimer in spirits. He gave me a glance which
said very plainly, “You see we needn't have troubled
our heads about this!”—but the sequel was to come.
Miss Smith led the way to the second story, where
were two very comfortable unoccupied bedrooms.
“A single lady?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Jem, “a Miss Lasacque of Louisiana.”
“Young, did you say?”
“Seventeen, or thereabout, I fancy.” (This was a
guess, but Jem chose to appear to know all about
her.)
“And—ehem!—and—quite alone?”
“Quite alone—she is come here to go to school.”
“Oh, to go to school! Pray—will she pass her
vacations with your mother?”
“No!” said Jem, coughing, and looking rather embarrassed.
“Indeed! She is with Mrs. Thalimer at present,
I presume.”
“No—she is still on shipboard! Why, my dear
madam, she only arrived from New Orleans this
morning.”
“And your mother has not had time to see her?
I understand. Mrs. Thalimer will accompany her
here, of course.”
Jem began to see the end of the old maid's catechism,
and thought it best to volunteer the remainder
of the information.
“My mother is not acquainted with this young lady's
friends,” he said; “and, in fact, she comes introduced
only to myself.”
“She has a guardian, surely?” said Miss Smith,
drawing back into her Elizabethan ruff with more
dignity than she had hitherto worn.
“I am her guardian!” replied Jem, looking as red
and guilty as if he had really abducted the young lady,
and was ashamed of his errand.
The spinster bit her lips and looked out of the
window.
“Will you walk down stairs for a moment, gentlemen,”
she resumed, “and let me speak to my sister.
I should have told you that the rooms might possibly be
engaged. I am not quite sure—indeed—ehem—pray
walk down and be seated a moment.”
Very much to the vexation of my discomfited
friend, I burst into a laugh as we closed the door of
the basement parlor behind us.
“You don't realize my confoundedly awkward position,”
said he. “I am responsible for every step I
take, to the girl's father in the first place, and then to
my friend Dauchy, one of the most chivalric old
cocks in the world, who, at the same time, could never
understand why there was any difficulty in the
matter! And it does seem strange, that in a city with
eighty thousand inhabitants, it should be next to impossible
to find lodging for a virtuous lady, a stranger!”
I was contriving how to tell Thalimer that “there
was no objection to the camel but for the dead cat
hung upon its neck,” when a maidservant opened the
door with a message—“Miss Smith's compliments,
and she was very sorry she had no room to spare!”
“Pleasant!” said Jem, “very pleasant! I suppose
every other keeper of a respectable house will be
equally sorry. Meantime, it's getting on toward noon,
and that poor girl is moping on shipboard, wondering
whether she is ever to be taken ashore! Do you
think she might sleep at Gallagher's?”
“Certainly not! He has, probably, no accommodations
for a lady, and, to lodge in a restaurant, after
dining with you there, would be an indiscreet first
step, in a strange city, to say the least. But let us
make our visit to your fair ward, my dear Jem! Perhaps
she has a face innocent enough to tell its own
story—like the lady who walked through Erin `with
the snow-white wand.”'
The vessel had lain in the stream all night, and was
just hauling up to the wharf with the moving tide.
A crowd of spectators stood at the end of her mooring
cable, and, as she warped in, universal attention
seemed to be given to a single object. Upon a heap
of cotton-bales, the highest point of the confused
lumber of the deck, sat a lady under a sky-blue parasol.
Her gown was of pink silk; and by the volume
of this showy material which was presented to the
eye, the wearer, when standing, promised to turn out
of rather conspicuous stature. White gloves, a pair
of superb amethyst bracelets, a string of gold beads
on her neck, and shoulders quite naked enough for a
ball, were all the disclosures made for a while by the
envious parasol, if we except a little object in blue,
which seemed the extremity of something she was
sitting on, held in her left hand—and which turned
out to be her right foot in a blue satin slipper!
I turned to Thalimer. He was literally pale with
consternation.
“Hadn't you better send for a carriage to take your
ward away?” I suggested.
“You don't believe that to be Miss Lasacque, surely!”
exclaimed Jem, turning upon me with an imploring
look.
“Such is my foreboding,” I replied; “but wait a
moment. Her face may be pretty, and you, of course,
in your guardian capacity, may suggest a simplification
of her toilet. Consider!—the poor girl was
never before off the plantation—at least, so says old
Dauchy's letter.”
The sailors now began to pull upon the sternline,
and, as the ship came round, the face of the unconscious
object of curiosity stole into view. Most of the spectators,
after a single glance, turned their attention
elsewhere with a smile, and Jem, putting his hands
into his two coat-pockets behind him, walked off toward
the end of the pier, whistling to himself very energetically.
She was an exaggeration of the peculiar
physiognomy of the south—lean rather than slight,
sallow rather than pale. Yet I thought her eyes fine.
Thalimer joined me as the ship touched the dock,
and we stepped on board together. The cabinboy
confirmed our expectations as to the lady's identity,
and putting on the very insinuating manner which
was part of his objectionable exterior, Jem advanced
and begged to know if he had the honor of addressing
Miss Lasacque.
Without loosing her hold upon her right foot, the
lady nodded.
“Then, madam!” said Jem, “permit me to introduce
to you your guardian, Mr. Thalimer!”
“What, that old gentleman coming this way?”
asked Miss Lasacque, fixing her eyes on a custom-house
officer who was walking the deck.
Jem handed the lady his card.
“That is my name,” said he, “and I should be
happy to know how I can begin the duties of my office!”
“Dear me!” said the astonished damsel, dropping
her foot to take his hand, “isn't there an older Mr.
James Thalimer? Mr. Dauchy said it was a gentleman
near his own age!”
“I grow older, as you know me longer!” Jem replied
apologetically; but his ward was too well satisfied
with his appearance, to need even this remarkable
fact to console her. She came down with a slide
from her cotton-bag elevation, called to the cook to
bring the bandbox with the bonnet in it, and meantime
gave us a brief history of the inconveniences she
had suffered in consequence of the loss of her slave,
Dinah, who had died of sea-sickness three days out.
This, to me, was bad news, for I had trusted to a “lady's
maid” for the preservation of appearances, and
the scandal threatening Jem's guardianship looked,
in consequence, very imminent.
“I am dying to get my feet on land again!” said
Miss Lasacque, putting her arm in her guardian's,
and turning toward the gangway—her bonnet not
tied, nor her neck covered, and thin blue satin slippers,
though her feet were small, showing forth in
contrast with her pink silk gown, with frightful conspicuousness!
Jem resisted the shoreward pull, and
stood motionless and aghast.
“Your baggage,” he stammered at last.
“Here, cook!” cried the lady, “tell the captain,
when he comes aboard, to send my trunks to Mr.
Thalimer's! They are down in the hold, and he told
me he couldn't get at 'em till to-morrow,” she added,
by way of explanation to Thalimer.
I felt constrained to come to the rescue.
“Pardon me, madam!” said I, “there is a little
peculiarity in our climate, of which you probably are
not advised. An east wind commonly sets in about
noon, which makes a shawl very necessary. In consequence,
too, of the bronchitis which this sudden
change is apt to give people of tender constitutions,
the ladies of Boston are obliged to sacrifice what is
becoming, and wear their dresses very high in the
throat.”
“La!” said the astonished damsel, putting her
hand upon her bare neck, “is it sore throat that you
mean? I'm very subject to it, indeed! Cook! bring
me that fur-tippet out of the cabin! I'm so sorry my
dresses are all made so low, and I haven't a shawl unpacked
either!—dear! dear!”
Jem and I exchanged a look of hopeless resignation,
as the cook appeared with the chinchilli tippet.
A bold man might have hesitated to share the conspicuousness
of such a figure in a noon promenade,
but we each gave her an arm when she had tied the
soiled riband around her throat, and silently set forward.
It was a bright and very warm day, and there seemed
a conspiracy among our acquaintances, to cross
our path. Once in the street, it was not remarkable
that they looked at us, for the towering height at
which the lady carried her very showy bonnet, the
flashy material of her dress, the jewels and the chinchilli
tippet, formed an ensemble which caught the eye
like a rainbow; and truly people did gaze, and the
boys, spite of the unconscious look which we attempted,
did give rather disagreeable evidence of being
amused. I had various misgivings, myself, as to the
necessity for my own share in the performance, and,
at every corner, felt sorely tempted to bid guardian
and ward good morning; but friendship and pity prevailed.
By streets and lanes not calculated to give
Miss Lasacque a very favorable first impression of
Boston, we reached Washington street, and made an
intrepid dash across it, to the Marlborough hotel.
Of this public house, Thalimer had asked my opinion
during our walk, by way of introducing an apology
to Miss Lasacque for not taking her to his own
home. She had made it quite clear that she expected
this, and Jem had nothing for it but to draw such a
picture of the decrepitude of Mr. Thalimer, senior,
and the bedridden condition of his mother (as stout
a couple as ever plodded to church!) as would satisfy
the lady for his short-comings in hospitality. This
had passed off very smoothly, and Miss Lasacque entered
the Marlboro', quite prepared to lodge there,
but very little aware (poor girl!) of the objections to
receiving her as a lodger.
Mr. —, the proprietor, had stood in the archway
as we entered. Seeing no baggage in the lady's
train, however, he had not followed us in, supposing,
probably, that we were callers on some of his guests.
Jem left us in the drawing-room, and went upon his
errand to the proprietor, but after half an hour's absence,
came back, looking very angry, and informed
us that no rooms were to be had! Instead of taking
the rooms without explanation, he had been unwise
enough to “make a clean breast” to Mr. —, and
the story of the lady's being his “ward,” and come
from Louisiana to go to school, rather staggered that
discreet person's credulity.
Jem beckoned me out, and we held a little council
of war in the entry. Alas! I had nothing to suggest.
I knew the puritan metropolis very well—I knew its
phobia was “the appearance of evil.” In Jem's care-for-nothing
face lay the leprosy which closed all doors
against us. Even if we had succeeded, by a coup-de-main,
in lodging Miss Lasacque at the Marlboro', her
guardian's daily visits would have procured for her, in
the first week, some intimation that she could no
longer be accommodated.
“We had best go and dine upon it,” said I; “worst
come to the worst, we can find some sort of dormitory
for her at Gallagher's, and to-morrow she must be put
to school, out of the reach of your `pleasant, but
wrong society.”'
“I hope to Heaven she'll `stay put,”' said Jem,
with a long sigh.
We got Miss Lasacque again under way, and avoiding
the now crowded pavé of Washington street, made
a short cut by Theatre Alley to Devonshire street and
Gallagher's. Safely landed in “No. 2,” we drew a
long breath of relief. Jem rang the bell.
“Dinner, waiter, as soon as possible.”
“The same that was ordered at six, sir?”
“Yes, only more champagne, and bring it immediately.
Excuse me, Miss Lasacque,” added Jem,
with a grave bow, “but the non-appearance of that
east wind my friend spoke of, has given me an unnatural
thirst. Will you join me in some champagne
after your hot walk?”
“No, thank you,” said the lady, untying her tippet,
“but, if you please, I will go to my room before
dinner!”
Here was trouble, again! It had never occurred to
either of us, that ladies must go to their rooms before
bedtime.
“Stop!” cried Jem, as she laid her hand on the
bell to ring for the chamber-maid, “excuse me—I
must first speak to the landlord—the room—the room
is not ready, probably!”
He seized his hat, and made his exit, probably wishing
all confiding friends, with their neighbor's daughters,
in a better world! He had to do with a man of
sense, however. Gallagher had but one bedroom in
the house, which was not a servant's room, and that
was his own. In ten minutes it was ready, and at the
lady's service. A black scullion was promoted for the
nonce, to the post of chamber-maid, and, fortunately,
the plantation-bred girl had not been long enough
from home to be particular. She came to dinner as
radiant as a summer-squash.
With the door shut, and the soup before us, Thalimer's
spirits and mine flung off their burthens together.
Jem was the pleasantest table-companion in
the world, and he chatted and made the amiable to his
ward, as if he owed her some amends for the awkward
position of which she was so blessedly unconscious.
Your “dangerous man” (such as he was voted), inspires,
of course, no distrust in those to whom he
chooses to be agreeable. Miss Lasacque grew, every
minute, more delighted with him. She, too, improved
on acquaintance. Come to look at her closely, Nature
meant her for a fine showy creature, and she was
“out of condition,” as the jockeys say—that was all!
Her features were good, though gamboged by a
southern climate, and the fever-and-ague had flattened
what should be round and ripe lips, and reduced
to the mere frame, what should be the bust and neck
of a Die Vernon. I am not sure I saw all this at the
time. Her subsequent chrysalis and emergence into
a beautiful woman, naturally color my description
now. But I did see, then, that her eyes were large
and lustrous, and that naturally she had high spirit,
good abilities, and was a thorough woman in sentiment,
though deplorably neglected—for, at the age
of twenty, she could hardly read and write! It was
not surprising that she was pleased with us! She was
the only lady present, and we were the first coxcombs
she had ever seen, and the day was summery, and the
dinner in Gallagher's best style. We treated her like
a princess; and the more agreeable man of the two
being her guardian, and responsible for the propriety
of the whole affair, there was no chance for a failure.
We lingered over our coffee; and we lingered over
our chassecafé; and we lingered over our tea; and,
when the old South struck twelve, we were still at the
table in “No. 2,” quite too much delighted with each
other to have thought of separating. It was the venerated
guardian who made the first move, and, after
ringing up the waiter to discover that the scullion had,
six hours before, made her nightly disappearance, the
lady was respectfully dismissed with only a candle for
her chamber-maid, and Mr. Gallagher's room for her
destination—wherever that might be!
We dined together every successive day for a week,
and during this time the plot rapidly thickened. Thalimer,
of course, vexed soul and body, to obtain for
Miss Lasacque a less objectionable lodging—urged
scarcely more by his sense of propriety than by a
feeling for her good-natured host, who, meantime,
slept on a sofa. But the unlucky first step of dining
and lodging a young lady at a restaurant, inevitable
as it was, gave a fatal assurance to the predisposed
scandal of the affair, and every day's events heightened
its glaring complexion. Miss Lasacque had ideas
of her own, and very independent ones, as to the
amusement of her leisure hours. She had never been
before where there were shops, and she spent her first
two or three mornings in perambulating Washington
street, dressed in a style perfectly amazing to beholders,
and purchasing every description of gay trumpery—the
parcels, of course, sent to Gallagher's, and
the bills to James Thalimer, Esq.! To keep her out
of the street, Jem took her, on the third day, to the
riding-school, leaving her (safely enough, he thought),
in charge of the authoritative Mr. Roulstone, while
he besieged some school-mistress or other to undertake
her ciphering and geography. She was all but
born on horseback, however, and soon tired of riding
round the ring. The street-door was set open for a
moment, leaving exposed a tempting tangent to the
circle, and out flew Miss Lasacque, saving her “Leghorn
flat” by a bend to the saddle-bow, that would
have done credit to a dragoon, and no more was seen,
for hours, of the “bonnie black mare” and her rider.
The deepening of Miss Lasacque's passion for Jem,
would not interest the reader. She loved like other
women, timidly and pensively. Young as the passion
was, however, it came too late to affect her manners
before public opinion had pronounced on them. There
was neither boarding-house nor “private female academy”
within ten miles, into which “Mr. Thalimer's
young lady” would have been permitted to set her
foot—small as was the foot, and innocent as was the
pulse to which it stepped.
Uncomfortable as was this state of suspense, and
anxious as we were to fall into the track marked
“virtuous,” if virtue would only permit; public opinion
seemed to think we were enjoying ourselves quite
too prosperously. On the morning of the seventh day
of our guardianship, I had two calls after breakfast,
one from poor Gallagher, who reported that he had
been threatened with a prosecution of his establishment
as a nuisance, and another from poorer Jem,
whose father had threatened to take the lady out of
his hands, and lodge her in the insane asylum!
“Not that I don't wish she was there,” added Jem,
“for it is a very fine place, with a nice garden, and
luxurious enough for those who can pay for them, and
faith, I believe it's the only lodging-house I've not applied
to!”
I must shorten my story. Jem anticipated his
father, by riding over, and showing his papers constituting
him the guardian of Miss Lasacque, in which
capacity, he was, of course, authorized to put his
ward under the charge of keepers. Everybody who
knows Massachusetts, knows that its insane asylums
are sometimes brought to bear on irregular morals, as
well as on diseased intellects, and as the presiding officer
of the institution was quite well assured that
Miss Lasacque was well qualified to become a patient,
Jem had no course left but to profit by the error.
The poor girl was invited, that afternoon, to take a
drive in the country, and we came back and dined
without her, in abominable spirits, I must say
Provided with the best instruction, the best of care
taken of her health, and the most exemplary of matrons
interesting herself in her patient's improvements,
Miss Lasacque rapidly improved—more rapidly, no
doubt, than she ever could have done by control less
rigid and inevitable. Her father, by the advice of the
matron, was not informed of her location for a year,
and at the end of that time he came on, accompanied
by his friend, Mr. Dauchy. He found his daughter
sufficiently improved in health, manners, and beauty,
to be quite satisfied with Jem's discharge of his trust,
and we all dined very pleasantly in “No. 2;” Miss
Lasacque declining, with a blush, my invitation to her
to make one of the party.
