Mrs.
Hawthorne sometimes walks with us, Mr. H. _never_. He has a
horror of sight-seeing and of emotions in general, but I like
him very much, and when I say I like _him_ it only means that I
like _her_ a little more. Julian, the boy, is in love with me.
When I was last there Mr. H. came home with me; as he put on his
coat he turned to Julian and said, "Julian, I should think with
your _tender interest_ in Miss Mitchell you wouldn't let me
escort her home."
"We arrived in Rome in the evening. Mrs. H. was somewhat of an invalid,
and Mr. Hawthorne tried in vain to make the servant understand that she
must have a fire in her room. He spoke no word of French, German, or
Italian, but he said emphatically, 'Make a fire in Mrs. Hawthorne's
room.' Worn out with his efforts, he turned to me and said, 'Do, Miss
Mitchell, tell the servant what I want; your French is excellent!
Englishmen and Frenchmen understand it equally well.' So I said in
execrable French, 'Make a fire,' and pointed to the grate; of course the
gesture was understood.
"Mr. Hawthorne was minutely and scrupulously honest; I should say that
he was a rigid temperance man. Once I heard Mrs. Hawthorne say to the
clerk, 'Send some brandy to Mr. Hawthorne at once.' We were six in the
party. When I paid my bill I heard Mr. Hawthorne say to Miss S., the
teacher, who took all the business cares, 'Don't let Miss Mitchell pay
for one-sixth of my brandy.
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