Forty-Four, Quartet

Forty-Four

Quartet

20 June 1824

I had scarce written the poem into my journal this morning when Mr. DuBois came by to walk me to services at the Terrys.  I was taken by surprise, and forgot to write that it was a Wordsworth poem again.  I can see that I shall become a great fan of this man.  Most of the poem fit perfectly with the evening, although Mr. DuBois needed to explain to me that lying in the bosom of Abraham most likely means being in heaven.

That Mr. DuBois should think on me well enough to take such thought and preparation as to choose this poem, and on so perfect an evening, that I hope for many such occasions in the future.  Many, many, many such occasions.

Our walk to services, being as it commenced an hour ahead of the appointed time, gave us plenty of time to walk slowly.  I had my Sunday slippers on, these being shoes that I actually never wear, for I am of a practical mind, even on Sunday.  But the slippers are dainty, and sit upon my feet just so and they have ribbons bedecking them.  Best of all, they are difficult to walk in, such that I risked turning an ankle if I did not hold on to the arm of the gentleman who accompanied me today.

Oh my!  I giggle to think of the lengths I am going with regard to this gentleman.  Before this month, I never would have thought of so many schemes.  At least, not happy ones...

So it was that I placed my left hand upon Mr. DuBois' right arm, and he did not take it away; indeed, he placed his free left hand upon my hand, and thus we walked, or rather, I floated for walking can hardly describe my mode of transport.

I tried to make intelligent conversation, and perhaps I managed to do so just a little, but mostly, we walked along, asking each other questions designed to get to know each other better.

He began by saying that he is very nearly twenty-six, his birthday being next week.  I was quite relieved to hear this, as we are about six months apart in age, me being the  younger.  I believe this is a sign that we are well-suited to be more nearly equals.  I believe that if I were much younger, I would not expect so much, but owing to my mature age, I am hopeful that we can see each other more nearly as friends and confidantes, consulting with each other on all things, or at least on many of them. 

I did not mention my age at this juncture, however, because he was telling me about himself and I did not wish to interrupt.

He said that he had come to Alabama from Charleston at the age of twenty-two, and that he had traveled by horseback with his friend, Mr. Houck.  He told me that he and Mr. Houck have been friends since childhood, and that they have done nearly everything together.  They are closer than brothers, he said.  He turned to me then, and said that it was his sincere hope that I should get to know Mr. Houck better, that once you get beyond the serious nature of his personality, he is the truest friend one should hope to have.

And here, Mr. DuBois said with a twinkle in his eye, that he knew that I would have many opportunities to get to know Joseph better, perhaps more quickly than I could guess.  Mr. DuBois then turned to me and asked if it were acceptable for me to call him John, since he was now talking about his friend in the familiar.  I of course agreed, and teased that I should prefer to still be called Miss Williams.  He was quiet, and I laughed, saying that of course, I wanted to be called Louisa, and he laughed, too, perhaps a little relieved.

We too soon arrived at the Terrys, not that I dislike it there, but I wanted to remain alone with Mr. DuBois-- I mean, John--for as long as I could.

We went inside and I realized that I once again had forgotten to bring food for the lunch.  This time, I did not have Susie to assist me in resolving my embarrassment, for although she later came with food, it was clear that I needed to have brought my own. 

John said that he had food for the both of us, and he went outside to a nearby apple tree and plucked several apples.  We both laughed at this, briefly, for it was time to assume a more somber air for the services.

We each stood in our respective part of the room, he on one side, and I upon the other, and I was happy to discover that our first hymn was one with which I was familiar. 

My sister Nan was in attendance today, being back at home and thus able to easily walk to the services.  I noticed that Mr. Houck--for I do not think it proper that I call him Joseph until he has invited me to do so--had come inside with Nan at his side for as long as it took to place food upon the table, and thence to their separate places, Nan joining with me, and Mr. Houck with John. 

In singing the first hymn, I came upon the realization that we formed a perfect quartet, with Nan singing harmony, and Mr. Houck's voice a marvelous bass.  I began to look at him a little more favorably, not only because John had spoken so well of him, but because I do give extra credit to anyone who can acquit themselves well musically.

After services, we joined in on the luncheon, although I did not wish to take any of the food, it not seeming right.  But John assured me that there was more than enough for everyone, and that next week, I could redeem myself.  I decided that today would not be the day that I disavow John of the notion that I can cook, so I kept silent.

And so it was that we began a new era, or so I hope.  A new era for John and Louisa, and for Nan and Mr. Houck.