Mr. Bruce

"Mr. Bruce" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a charming novella that explores themes of community, friendship, and the complexities of human relationships. Set in a small coastal town in Maine, the story centers around the interactions between the protagonist, a young woman named Miss Bruce, and the various inhabitants of the town. Through her keen observations and gentle humor, Jewett paints a vivid picture of rural life and the bonds that tie people together. The narrative highlights the importance of understanding and compassion in relationships, capturing the essence of small-town dynamics and the richness of everyday experiences.

• Short story

								
Last summer (said Aunt Mary), while you were with your father in
Canada, I met for the first time Miss Margaret Tennant of Boston, whom
I had for years a great desire to see and know. My dear friend, Anne
Langdon, has had from her girlhood two very intimate friends; and Miss
Tennant is one, and I the other. Though we each had known the other
through Anne, we had never seen each other before.

I was at the mountains, and upon our being introduced we became very
good friends immediately; and, from at first holding complimentary and
interesting conversations concerning Anne in the hotel parlor, we came
to taking long walks, and spending the most of our time together; and
now we are as fond of each other as possible. When we parted in
September, I had promised to visit her at her house in Boston in the
winter; and, when she was ready for it, I was too.

To my great delight, I found Anne there; and we three old maiden
ladies enjoyed ourselves quite as well as if we were your age, my
dear, with the world before us. Miss Margaret Tennant certainly keeps
house most delightfully.

She lives alone in the old Tennant house, in a pleasant street; and I
think most of the Tennants, for a dozen generations back, must have
been maiden ladies with exquisite taste and deep purses, just like
herself; for every thing there is perfect of its kind, and its kind
the right kind. Then she is such a popular person: it is charming to
see the delight her friends have in her. For one thing, all the young
ladies of her acquaintance--not to mention her nieces, who seem to bow
down and worship her--are her devoted friends; and she often gives
them dinners and tea parties, takes them to plays and concerts,
matronizes them in the summer, takes them to drive in her handsome
carriages, and is the repository of all their joys and sorrows, and, I
have no doubt, knows them better than their fathers and mothers do,
and has nearly as much influence over them. Elly, my dear, I wish you
were one of the clan; for I'm afraid, between your careless papa and
your wicked aunty, you haven't had the most irreproachable bringing
up! But, she is coming to visit me in June, and we'll see what she can
do for you!

One night, while I was there, we were just home from a charming
dinner-party at the house of her sister, Mrs. Bruce; and, as it was a
very stormy night, we had come away early. Not being in the least
tired, we sat ourselves down in our accustomed easy-chairs before the
fire, for a talk, and were lazily making plans for the morrow; Miss
Tennant telling us she should have the eight young ladies whom she
knew best; the Quadrille as she calls them; to dine with us. I must
tell you about that party some day, Elly. It was the nicest affair in
its way I ever saw, and the girls were all such dear ones! I spoke of
the company we had just left, and of my admiration of the Bruce family
in general, and Mrs. Bruce in particular, and of my enjoyment of the
evening.

"Yes," said Margaret,  "I think Kitty is quite as young as her two
daughters, and at their age she was more brilliant than either." She
stopped talking for a moment, and then said, "Girls, are you in a
hurry for bed?" (Elly! you ought to be ashamed of yourself for
laughing! Just as if Anne Langdon and I were not as young as you and
Nelly Cameron. There's no difference, sometimes, if we are fifty, and
you twenty!)

We were not in a hurry, and told her so.

 "Then," said Margaret, "I will tell you a story. Anne knows it, or
used to; but I doubt if she has thought of it these dozen years, and I
do not think she will mind hearing it again. It is about Kitty and
Mr. Bruce, and their first meeting; also divers singular
misunderstandings which followed, finally ending in their peaceful
wedding in this very room."

Anne laughed; and I settled myself contentedly in my chair, for I had
already found out that Miss Tennant possesses the art of telling a
story capitally.

"Kitty Bruce is three years older than I," said Margaret,--"though I
dare say you do not believe me,--and consequently, at the time I was
fifteen she was eighteen; and whereas I was in my first year at
boarding-school, she was about finishing. I was at Mrs. Walkintwo's,
where you and I met, Anne; and that, as you know, was a quiet place,
where we were taught history and arithmetic, and the other 'solids,'
and from which she had graduated the year before, and gone to Madame
Riche's to acquire the extras and be 'finished.' Her beauty was very
striking, and she was quite as entertaining and agreeable as she is
now,--very witty and original, with the kindest heart in the world,
and enjoying life to the utmost. In the Easter vacation of that year
we were at home together; and one morning I was sitting with her in
her chamber, and she was confiding to me some of the state secrets of
her room at school, to my inexpressible delight, for it was my great
ambition to be intimate with Kitty; and, you know, that elder sisters
are often strangely blind to the virtues of the younger.

"Mamma came in in the midst of it, with her usually cheerful face
exceedingly clouded, so much so that both of us immediately asked what
had happened.

"'Happened!' said poor mamma, sitting down disconsolately on Kitty's
bed, and helping herself, by way of relief, from a box of candy which
lay there. 'I'm sure I don't know what I'm to do. Your father has just
sent me a note from the office, saying he has invited four gentlemen
to dine, and wishes to have every thing as nice as possible. I can
send John for the dinner; and, of course, I don't mind that part of
it, for there is time enough and to spare, and Peggy never fails me;
but you know Hannah is away; and this morning a small Irish boy came
for Ann, saying his sister is sick and she went away with him. About
an hour ago another little wretch came to say she was obliged to go to
Salem with the sister, and would be back to breakfast. Now, children,
what shall I do for some one to wait on the table?

"Kitty and I were as much posed as mamma. John, our coachman, was an
immense Englishman, and perfectly unavailable as to taking upon
himself any of Ann's duties save waiting upon the door. His daughter,
who had been our nurse and was at that time seamstress, might have
done very well, but she was away at Portsmouth; and as for Peggy, our
dear old black cook, though I never knew any one to equal her in her
realm, the kitchen, she had no idea of any thing out of it, and never
had done any thing of this kind. It was raining in torrents, and none
of us could go out; and we sat and looked at each other.

"Suddenly Kitty clapped her hands. 'Mamma,' said she, 'read us their
names again.'

"So mamma read the names of two gentlemen from South America, and one
from New Orleans, and that of Mr. Philip Bruce of London.

"'All perfect strangers except to papa,' said Kitty joyfully; 'and
they're interested in that South-American business of his, and are all

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