The Black-Sealed Letter | Page 2

seated in their little sitting room after tea; the
mother and her daughters engaged at needlework; the father and his
eldest son, George, reading the newspapers, while Frederick, the
younger, was reclining upon a sofa. An infant of a year old was
sleeping in a cradle; a little kitten was nestling at its feet, and purring as
if trying to soothe the dreamy slumbers of its tender companion.
Mr. Charlston was about fifty-five years of age, in physical appearance
tall and nervous; with sharp, prominent features, and well-defined head,
denoting energy and perception. His wife was apparently about fifty
years; well proportioned in form and feature, her face expressive of
sensibility and affection. The little furrows around her dark eyes, and
the streaks of gray hairs, had already denoted the footmarks of elder
age; nevertheless, she was still possessed of a considerable share of that
beauty which in her younger years had distinguished her as the "Belle
of Elton," the village in which she had formerly resided. The daughters
in appearance somewhat resembled their mother, the eldest of whom
was then in her twenty-first year. George, the first-born of the family,

was possessed of a robust constitution, of the middle size, and about
twenty-six years of age. Frederick in appearance was the very facsimile
of his father, with all the finer sensibilities of his mother; yet,
apparently possessed of a stern determination of will, amounting to
stubborness when actuated by the impulses of a nervous temperament.
Mr. Charlston was a hatter by trade; and at the time referred to kept a
hat factory of his own in Fleet Street. His industry had placed him in
favorable circumstances. Estimating the value of labor and intellect, he
had given his children a tolerably good education, and at a proper age
had apprenticed his sons to become tradesmen. George followed the
business of his father. Frederick was a cabinet-maker, and at the time
referred to had been two years employed as a journeyman. Neither Mr.
Charlston nor his sons were then addicted to intemperance. Frederick
was a strict teetotaller. Occasionally a bottle of ale was partaken of by
the others; or when an acquaintance visited the house, or during the
Christmas holidays, an additional bottle might be set down to grace the
table. They were, however, a sober and industrious family; and when
the labours of the day were past, they generally gathered around the
household hearth to spend their evenings pleasantly and profitably to
themselves.
On the evening referred to, and whilst Mr. Charlston and family were
engaged in their respective duties, as described, the door bell was rung.
George attended to the signal; and in a few seconds a young man
entered the room, signalizing himself in a very familiar but somewhat
uncouth manner.
"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Charlston. How are you Eliza, Amelia,
and Charlotte? and you Frederick, old lad? I didn't see you at work
to-day. I thought something was out of joint with you, and I have come
on purpose to see. Why what's the matter with your neck? You have it
swaddled up as if you were determined to defy the hangman's rope
from ever getting a hold of you," ejaculated Charles Holstrom.
"Oh, I have only caught a bit of a cold in my throat," replied Frederick;
"come Charlie, take a seat by my side and give us your latest news
about town."

The husky voice of Holstrom awoke the infant from its peaceful
slumber, and the poor thing began to bawl loudly as if startled from
either surprise or fear.
Mrs. Charlston lifted it to her knee, and having hushed it into quietness
she began feeding it with some cordial food.
"Well, I declare, he has grown to be a big lump of a lad," exclaimed
Holstrom. "I dare say, Frederick, you feel conceited enough now to
think yourself a degree above such fellows as George and I are, in
having graduated as a Batchelor of Arts--I mean--Bachelor of Babies.
You will, no doubt hereafter, append B. B. to your name as a title of
merit; or, Bad Behavior, I should rather have said. However, the initials
will stand for both. He's the very picture of yourself, and will soon need
a hat as big as his grandpa's."
At this moment the bell was again rung; and shortly afterwards, a
graceful looking young woman entered the room. Very politely she
shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Charlston and the others present. She
then took the infant, and pressed it lovingly to her bosom, imprinting a
few kisses upon its tiny lips. The child in return smiled affectionately,
apparently delighted with the caresses of a recognized and familiar
friend.
"I say, Clara," exclaimed Holstrom, addressing the young woman, with
whom he was apparently acquainted, "I think it