s kind to the newly-made
widow. Without being definitely expressed, it was generally felt that
sympathy with her was now safe, and carried no moral responsibility
with it. Even practical and pecuniary aid, which before had been
withheld, lest it should be diverted from its proper intent, and,
perhaps through the weakness of the wife, made to minister to the
wickedness of the husband,--even that was now openly suggested.
Everybody felt that somebody should do something for the widow. A few
did it. Her own sex rallied to her side, generally with large
sympathy, but, unfortunately, small pecuniary or practical result. At
last, when the feasibility of her taking a boarding-house in San
Francisco, and identifying herself with that large class of American
gentlewomen who have seen better days, but clearly are on the road
never to see them again, was suggested, a few of her own and her
husband's rich relatives came to the front to rehabilitate her. It was
easier to take her into their homes as an equal than to refuse to call
upon her as the mistress of a lodging-house in the adjoining street.
And upon inspection it was found that she was still quite an eligible
partie, prepossessing, and withal, in her widow's weeds, a kind of
poetical and sentimental presence, as necessary in a wealthy and
fashionable American family as a work of art. "Yes, poor Caroline has
had a sad, sad history," the languid Mrs. Walker Catron would say, "and
we all sympathize with her deeply; Walker always regards her as a
sister." What was this dark history never came out, but its very
mystery always thrilled the visitor, and seemed to indicate plainly the
respectability of the hostess. An American family without a genteel
skeleton in its closet could scarcely add to that gossip which keeps
society from forgetting its members. Nor was it altogether unnatural
that presently Mrs. Roger Catron lent herself to this sentimental
deception, and began to think that she really was a more exquisitely
aggrieved woman than she had imagined. At times, when this vague load
of iniquity put upon her dead husband assumed, through the mystery of
her friends, the rumor of murder and highway robbery, and even an
attempt upon her own life, she went to her room, a little frightened,
and had "a good cry," reappearing more mournful and pathetic than ever,
and corroborating the suspicions of her friends. Indeed, one or two
impulsive gentlemen, fired by her pathetic ey