life), his father donated the observatory and the telescope, and so he has a proprietary feeling about it. Is this so obscure an example of human nature that you cannot understand it? The disparities of wealth in Darlington are minor—the difference between sleeping in the front parlor and keeping the front parlor just for company. But the differences in wealth in Chicago or New York or San Francisco are considerable and ostentatious, and it is the job of every aspirant to simply ignore them, however grating they may be.
I understand from your letter that Mr. D—— is ready to accede to your demands in some degree, and to raise your position. My advice is to accept this with a strong expression of gratitude and withdraw the rest of your complaints (for that is what they are). If your work is important to you, then proceed with it.
But her advice made no difference, because a brief letter dated a month later said: “Of course you may come to Darlington and restore your health and equilibrium, and you may stay as long as you wish. I won’t hide my disappointment in the outcome of this contretemps right now, but perhaps by the time you arrive things will look more just, or at least more inevitable. I remain, always, your loving Mother.”
The letter was dated early February 1903, that period when Andrew was visiting his mother during the cold snap—when Mrs. Early was so kind to Margaret and Lavinia, and they were so grateful for and impressed by the warmth and beauty of her house. It did give her a chill, to read about the real torments Andrew and Mrs. Early had felt, which had swirled behind their courtesies. She blushed to think of herself and Lavinia, looking around that bedroom, so blindly impressed.
She put the packet away where she had found it, and decided to resist pursuing further investigations, and then a letter from Andrew’s mother arrived—she wrote about once a month, always something addressed to the both of them, light and gossipy and never intrusive (Lavinia had begun asking in every letter when she might expect a grandson, and Margaret had only just mailed off the letter that described their recent disappointment). When Andrew handed the letter to her, she read it with a new appreciation of Mrs. Early’s style and manner. It read:
Dear Andrew—
Here in Darlington, it is cold and gloomy and the windows are covered wth ice. As a result, Mrs. Hitchens and I are scheming about taking a great journey west, and, of course, your establishment, and you, yourself, and dear Margaret are first in our thoughts. I cannot imagine how it is that I have overlooked California in my travels! To think that I have visited Thomas in Texas, where the scorpions and the tarantulas hold sway, and yet I have not sojourned in the paradise of San Francisco! So—you and Margaret must prepare yourselves, Mrs. Hitchens and I are embarking for Vallejo in one week—on April 3, and we should be with you shortly thereafter, though I do anticipate that we will stop from time to time to gawk at the vista and stare at the natives (be they white or Indian—I understand that the two groups are equally intriguing). I will send to you by telegraph as we get closer. I don’t expect to impose upon you and Margaret for more than a day or two, but to travel on in state to San Francisco, and there partake of every luxury!
Your loving and self-indulgent Mother
When she looked up after reading this, Margaret saw that Andrew was staring at her, and then at their little house, so jam-packed with papers, books, and assorted paraphernalia. She said, “Oh, I know Mrs. Lear will be happy to put them up—she has eight bedrooms, and she’s always wishing her own relations would visit.” And, of course, it would be the opportunity of a lifetime for her neighbor to divine something more about Andrew than what Margaret was able to come up with solely on her own—Mrs. Lear and Andrew’s mother would surely get along famously.
The two ladies arrived late in the evening. Andrew and Margaret met the train and took them by wagon and ferry directly to Mrs. Lear’s house, where the boys had put up a banner and, as they approached, set off a few homemade firecrackers for a welcome. Mrs. Lear had laid out a small but elegant buffet of lemon tarts, tea, and avocado-and-prawn sandwiches. By