The best stories of Sarah Orne Jewett, Volume 2 (of 2)Jewett, Sarah Orne
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The best stories of Sarah Orne Jewett, Volume 2 (of 2)
Jewett, Sarah Orne
American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
Madam Dobin was, in her prime, a walking example of refinement and
courtesy. If she erred in any way, it was by keeping too strict watch
and rule over her small kingdom. She acted with great dignity in all
matters of social administration and etiquette, but, while it must be
owned that the parishioners felt a sense of freedom for a time after her
death, in their later years they praised and valued her more and more,
and often lamented her generously and sincerely.
Several of her distinguished relatives attended Madam Dobin’s funeral,
which was long considered the most dignified and elegant pageant of that
sort which had ever taken place in Dulham. It seemed to mark the close
of a famous epoch in Dulham history, and it was increasingly difficult
forever afterward to keep the tone of society up to the old standard.
Somehow, the distinguished relatives had one by one disappeared, though
they all had excellent reasons for the discontinuance of their visits. A
few had left this world altogether, and the family circle of the
Greenaples and Hightrees was greatly reduced in circumference.
Sometimes, in summer, a stray connection drifted Dulham-ward, and was
displayed to the townspeople (not to say paraded) by the gratified
hostesses. It was a disappointment if the guest could not be persuaded
to remain over Sunday and appear at church. When household antiquities
became fashionable, the ladies remarked upon a surprising interest in
their corner cupboard and best chairs, and some distant relatives
revived their almost forgotten custom of paying a summer visit to
Dulham. They were not long in finding out with what desperate affection
Miss Dobin and Miss Lucinda clung to their mother’s wedding china and
other inheritances, and were allowed to depart without a single teacup.
One graceless descendant of the Hightrees prowled from garret to cellar,
and admired the household belongings diligently, but she was not asked
to accept even the dislocated cherry-wood footstool that she had
discovered in the far corner of the parsonage pew.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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