Elsie Venner

O >> Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. >> Elsie Venner


Some time after this, as I was walking with a young friend along by the
swell-fronts and south-exposures, whom should I see but Mr. Bernard
Langdon, looking remarkably happy, and keeping step by the side of a very
handsome and singularly well-dressed young lady? He bowed and lifted his
hat as we passed.

"Who is that pretty girl my young doctor has got there?" I said to my
companion.

"Who is that?" he answered. "You don't know? Why, that is neither more
nor less than Miss Letitia Forrester, daughter of--of--why, the great
banking firm, you know, Bilyuns Brothers & Forrester. Got acquainted
with her in the country, they say. There 's a story that they're
engaged, or like to be, if the firm consents."

"Oh" I said.

I did not like the look of it in the least. Too young,--too young. Has
not taken any position yet. No right to ask for the hand of Bilyuns
Brothers & Co.'s daughter. Besides, it will spoil him for practice, if
he marries a rich girl before he has formed habits of work.

I looked in at his office the other day. A box of white kids was lying
open on the table. A three-cornered note, directed in a very delicate
lady's-hand, was distinguishable among a heap of papers. I was just
going to call him to account for his proceedings, when he pushed the
three-cornered note aside and took up a letter with a great
corporation-seal upon it. He had received the offer of a professor's
chair in an ancient and distinguished institution.

"Pretty well for three-and-twenty, my boy," I said. "I suppose you'll
think you must be married one of these days, if you accept this office."

Mr. Langdon blushed.--There had been stories about him, he knew. His name
had been mentioned in connection with that of a very charming young lady.
The current reports were not true. He had met this young lady, and been
much pleased with her, in the country, at the house of her grandfather,
the Reverend Doctor Honeywood,--you remember Miss Letitia Forrester, whom
I have mentioned repeatedly? On coming to town, he found his
country-acquaintance in a social position which seemed to discourage his
continued intimacy. He had discovered, however; that he was a not
unwelcome visitor, and had kept up friendly relations with her. But
there was no truth in the current reports,--none at all.'

Some months had passed, after this visit, when I happened one evening to
stroll into a box in one of the principal theatres of the city. A small
party sat on the seats before me: a middle-aged gentleman and his lady,
in front, and directly behind them my young doctor and the same very
handsome young lady I had seen him walking with on the sidewalk before
the swell-fronts and south-exposures. As Professor Langdon seemed to be
very much taken up with his companion, and both of them looked as if they
were enjoying themselves, I determined not to make my presence known to
my young friend, and to withdraw quietly after feasting my eyes with the
sight of them for a few minutes.

"It looks as if something might come of it," I said to myself. At that
moment the young lady lifted her arm accidentally in such a way that the
light fell upon the clasp of a chain which encircled her wrist. My eyes
filled with tears as I read upon the clasp, in sharp-cut Italic letters,
E. Y. They were tears at once of sad remembrance and of joyous
anticipation; for the ornament on which I looked was the double pledge of
a dead sorrow and a living affection. It was the golden bracelet,--the
parting-gift of Elsie Venner, the golden bracelet,--the parting-gift of
Elsie Venner.