A Home in the West: Or, Emigration and Its Consequences

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VII “Oh, Walter,” exclaimed Annie, looking up from a letter she was perusing, a letter from home,—the next week after the visit at Mr. Wilmot’s. “You remember Bertha Lester, don’t you? Well, she is living only twenty miles from us in the same county. She married a merchant you recollect,—Arthur Newcome, I think his name was,—and went to live in Providence. He was wealthy then, but Mary writes that they have heard that he failed two years ago, and they came West and bought a farm with the little they had, and are now living in Westville.” “Bertha Lester. Yes, I do remember her. That tall queenly girl, who spent two summers in our village with her aunt, and was your ‘dearest friend’ while in your teens. Oh yes, I can almost see her now with her glossy black hair and lustrous eyes, her magnificent figure and step, and the splendid poise of her head, that set so many of our village beaux into ecstasies of admiration.” “Take care,” laughed Annie, “or I shall be jealous of your glowing descriptions of her beauty. But she was a splendid looking girl, as we used to say at school. And then she had such aristocratic ideas: she was a perfect queen among the girls, and I thought it so appropriate a match when she married that wealthy young merchant, for her tastes and ambitions were far above the sphere her friends occupied. I have often wondered what had become of her—it is five years since her marriage—but I always thought of her as the star of some proud circle. And to think of her having lived for two years past upon a farm in the far West!” “I should think her a poor subject for a farmer’s wife,” said Walter. “Oh, it is too sad,” said Annie mournfully. “She must be perfectly miserable. Such quiet, simple bodies as I am now, can be happy anywhere, but Bertha, with all her pride, beauty and refinement— her queenly manners, immured in a log hut in the wilderness! I am so sorry for her.” “Well Annie, how would you like to visit your old friend in her new home?” 82 “Are you in earnest, Walter?” “Certainly, dearest. We have never spent any time in recreation since coming here. If you wish to go, I will hire a horse and carriage, and we will spend three days in visiting the Newcomes.” “Oh, I shall be delighted. Still, it will be a dreadful mortification to Bertha to see any one who knew her at home. But I will make her feel that she must not mind me, and perhaps be some comfort to her. How soon shall we go?” “On Wednesday, if you can be ready.” “Oh yes, Freddy and I are soon made ready. What a delightful ride we will have in this lovely spring weather through the woods and plains of this wild, beautiful West.” It was a delightful ride, and enjoyed with a keen relish by the little party as they rode gaily along in the warm spring air, with new springing grass and bursting buds and flowers on every side. True, the roads were bad—very bad it must be acknowledged, being a mixture of the sort styled “corduroy” and the native mud and underbrush. But our young friends thought little of this, and laughed merrily over the joltings and discomforts of the journey. They had started at ten in the morning, and at 83 nearly four in the afternoon came to a large double log house, with a sign before the door intimating that “entertainment” could be afforded to travelers therein. “How far are we from Westville?” inquired Walter, as a tall, unmistakably Yankee figure appeared in the doorway. “Well, we calculate it lies right about here,” was the reply. “But is there no village of that name?” “Well, yes. I call this a village, that is it will be soon. The Post Office is here, and I keep tavern, and we expect a smart lot of folks in here to settle soon. Walk in sir, and I’ll show you a map of the village— it’s laid out grand.” Walter declined the invitation and enquired for the residence of Mr. Arthur Newcome. “Mr. Newcome. Well, he lives about a mile on from here—straight on...