[Boston—Tuesday, 20 May 1873]
Tuesday. May 20. Gardening in the morning—most lovely—pyrus japonica in bloom—but it is late for it—dear Jamie came out with me and we rejoiced in the sun and air and green growing things.
We talked over his sixth lecture which will probably be On Fiction—I advocate this.
Went to Newtonville in the afternoon to find Celia Thaxter. Rang the bell of both front and back door without reply; walked in and found a deserted looking house, with “House for Sale” placarding the doors. Presently I saw a boy whom I recognized at once as her youngest, Roland, coming towards me. He greeted me with a frank laughing face, like his mother’s though he did not know me; he asked me politely to walk into the parlor and sit down, as he was just going to fetch her from the station. Will you take me back? I said. O yes! he replied—so I went in and sat down to wait. The piano was open where the young man had been practising, there were good books on the table and interesting sketches on the walls, but the stripped look of a house where no woman has been to care for it lovingly, for months, was on everything—and Celia does so much to make it beautiful when she is there, I am sure they must feel the difference. She reached home from the islands the previous evening, her servant whom she left in charge had been carried to the hospital with delirium tremors, the child was put into the Newton school for such children and then Mr. Thaxter sent for his wife. Mrs Laighton, Celia’s mother, is too ill for her to leave and she is evidently penetrated with anxiety to return especially as her mother’s own servant was obliged to come with her to get clothes for the summer. Celia had been in town all day with the maid, her first duty, in order to get the girl back to the Island as soon as possible.
In the meantime Mr. T. decides to rent the house for the Summer. Ah! poor Celia! This was her first home when she was brought away from her islands to begin their married life. She has suffered much under this roof, yet all her married joys have been here too, and I know she must suffer to see this forlorn shell—only too emblematic of their love. Found my darling waiting for me at home.
Celia was at the Station where we talked briefly together. I have never seen her so sad. Her mother’s illness, the murder at the Island, Lou’s unfaithfulness, her own broken home—ah! what a weight she has to carry poor child—poor child!
