f Buffalo, who was associated in business
with Mr. Langdon, and asked him to find a suitable boarding-place, one
that would be sufficiently refined for the woman who was to be his
wife, and sufficiently reasonable to insure prosperity. In due time Slee
replied that, while boarding was a "miserable business anyhow," he
had been particularly fortunate in securing a place on one of the most
pleasant streets--"the family a small one and choice spirits, with
no predilection for taking boarders, and consenting to the present
arrangement only because of the anticipated pleasure of your company."
The price, Slee added, would be reasonable. As a matter of fact a house
on Delaware Avenue--still the fine residence street of Buffalo--had been
bought and furnished throughout as a present to the bride and groom. It
stands to-day practically unchanged--brick and mansard without, Eastlake
within, a type then much in vogue--spacious and handsome for that
period. It was completely appointed. Diagrams of the rooms had been
sent to Elmira and Miss Langdon herself had selected the furnishings.
Everything was put in readiness, including linen, cutlery, and utensils.
Even the servants had been engaged and the pantry and cellar had been
stocked.
It must have been hard for Olivia Langdon to keep this wonderful
surprise out of those daily letters. A surprise like that is always
watching a chance to slip out unawares, especially when one is eagerly
impatient to reveal it.
However, the traveler remained completely in the dark. He may have
wondered vaguely at the lack of enthusiasm in the boarding idea, and
could he have been certain that the sales of the book would continue,
or that his newspaper venture would yield an abundant harvest, he might
have planned his domestic beginning on a more elaborate scale. If only
the Tennessee land would yield the long-expected fortune now! But these
were all incalculable things. All that he could be sure of was the
coming of his great happiness, in whatever environment, and of the
dragging weeks between.
At last the night of the final lecture came, and he was off for Elmira
with the smallest possible delay. Once there, the intervening days
did not matter. He could join in the busy preparations; he could write
exuberantly to his friends. To Laura Hawkins, long since Laura Frazer
he sent a playful line; to Jim Gillis, still digging and washing on
the slopes of the old Tuolumne hills, he wrote a letter which
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