The Mayors Wife | Page 4

half-past five and six in which to introduce her
to Mrs. Packard."

CHAPTER II
QUESTIONS
I knew all the current gossip about Mrs. Packard before I had parted
with Miss Davies. Her story was a simple one. Bred in the West, she
had come, immediately after her mother's death, to live with that
mother's brother in Detroit. In doing this she had walked into a fortune.
Her uncle was a rich man and when he died, which was about a year
after her marriage with Mr. Packard and removal to C--, she found
herself the recipient of an enormous legacy. She was therefore a
woman of independent means, an advantage which, added to personal
attractions of a high order, and manners at once dignified and winning,
caused her to be universally regarded as a woman greatly to be envied
by all who appreciated a well-founded popularity.
So much for public opinion. It differs materially from that just given
me by her husband.

The mayor lived on Franklin Street in a quarter I had seldom visited.
As I entered this once aristocratic thoroughfare from Carlton Avenue, I
was struck as I had been before by its heterogeneous appearance.
Houses of strictly modern type neighbored those of a former period,
and it was not uncommon to see mansion and hovel confronting each
other from the opposite side of the street. Should I find the number I
sought attached to one of the crude, unmeaning dwellings I was
constantly passing, or to one of mellower aspect and possibly historic
association?
I own that I felt a decided curiosity on this point, and congratulated
myself greatly when I had left behind me a peculiarly obnoxious
monstrosity in stone, whose imposing proportions might reasonably
commend themselves to the necessities, if not to the taste of the city's
mayor.
A little shop, one story in height and old enough for its simple wooden
walls to cry aloud for paint, stood out from the middle of a row of
cheap brick houses. Directly opposite it were two conspicuous
dwellings, neither of them new and one of them ancient as the street
itself. They stood fairly close together, with an alley running between.
From the number I had now reached it was evident that the mayor lived
in one of these. Happily it was in the fresher and more inviting one. As
I noted this, I paused in admiration of its spacious front and imposing
doorway. The latter was in the best style of Colonial architecture, and
though raised but one step from the walk, was so distinguished by the
fan-tailed light overhead and the flanking casements glazed with
antique glass, that I felt myself carried back to the days when such
domiciles were few and denoted wealth the most solid, and hospitality
the most generous.
A light wall, painted to match the house, extended without break to the
adjoining building, a structure equal to the other in age and dimensions,
but differing in all other respects as much as neglect and misuse could
make it. Gray and forbidding, it towered in its place, a perfect foil to
the attractive dwelling whose single step I now amounted with cheerful
composure.

What should I have thought if at that moment I had been told that
appearances were deceitful, and that there were many persons then
living who, if left to their choice, would prefer life in the dismal walls
from which I had instinctively turned, to a single night spent in the
promising house I was so eager to enter.
An old serving-man, with a countenance which struck me pleasantly
enough at the time, opened the door in response to my ring, only to
make instant way for Mayor Packard, who advanced from some
near-by room to greet me. By this thoughtful attention I was spared the
embarrassment from which I might otherwise have suffered.
His few words of greeting set me entirely at my ease, and I was quite
ready to follow him when a moment later he invited me to meet Mrs.
Packard.
"I can not promise you just the reception you naturally look for," said
he, as he led me around the stairs toward an opening at their rear, "but
she's a kind woman and can not but be struck with your own kind spirit
and quiet manner."
Happily, I was not called upon to answer, for at that moment the door
swung open and he ushered me into a room flooded brilliantly with the
last rays of the setting sun. The woman who sat in its glow made an
instant and permanent impression upon me. No one could look intently
upon her without feeling that here was a woman of individuality and
power, overshadowed at present by the deepest melancholy. As she
rose and faced us