Christian fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Bergan next glanced into a second parlor, a dusky ante-room, and a
dining-room, but leaving these places undisturbed in their dim and
dusty sanctity, as not of pressing interest, he made his way to the
library, on the other side of the hall. It was a large and lofty room,
set round with ancient book-cases, above and between which hung rows of
portraits, in frames of oak and gilt. These represented the early
forefathers and later worthies of the Bergan lineage,--some in knightly
armor, with mailed hands clasping a gleaming sword-hilt; some in the
rich array of the Tudor or the Stuart court, with laced and plumed hats
under their arms; some in the red coats and top-boots of English
squires, with a favorite horse or hound looking out from one corner of
the picture; some in the huge horsehair wigs and ermined robes of the
judge's bench; and others in the cocked hats and knee-breeches of the
Revolution, or in the modern black coat and pantaloons, seated in
arm-chairs, with their backs to a crimson curtain. There were also
dames to match, with towers of lace and curls upon their heads, ruffs,
farthingales, and all manner of obsolete finery.
Most of the faces had the austerity of aspect common to old portraits,
as if time had delighted to bring into clearer view the hard, stern
traits of character which the painter had dared but faintly to
delineate, and had even then done his best to cover up with pleasant
coloring, and a final coat of lustrous varnish. Nowhere was this
effect more striking than in the portrait of Sir Harry Bergan, earliest
emigrant of the name, and father of the American line. The younger son
of a noble English house, he had early fallen under the displeasure of
a stern father, by reason of careless and spendthrift habits; and had
finally been banished, in disgrace, to a small continental town, upon
an allowance barely sufficient to keep body and soul together. Under
this severe discipline,--smarting, too, with a rankling sense of
injustice in the treatment that he had received,--his character
underwent a complete transformation. His carelessness and
extravagance, as well as the generosity and frankness of which they had
been the rank, ill-trained outgrowth, fell from him like worn-out
garments; he became bitter, morose, and dogged.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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