Evangeline O’Hara Nelson

 

 

My dear child,

       Your life with Sheamus can’t be all that bad. I know I see him through a mother’s eyes, but filing for divorce is out of the quesiton. Have you no shame even thinking such a thing?

       I would think a descendant of a Revolutionary hero would have set herself higher standards, even if your forebear simply ran out to join the battle of Bunker’s Hill.

       You must remember that you owe your current station in life to your marriage. To our social status and to his wealth. Money, most of it, that he, God bless him, earned from his own initiative, sweat and tears in the treacherous China Sea. Think of the children, if nothing else.

       I know a mother’s love is blind, and it’s difficlut for me not to see the youngster Sheamus in my heart. The one with touseled hair, frecles, and a mischievious grin, sneaking into the pantry to swipe freshly baked cookies or to slide down the bannister or terrorize the servants.

       I know the adult has a reputation with the ladies, but dear, please, it’s a phase many husbands go through, even my own. Yes, he dallied too, but he always returned to me, and in time, forgot all about his mistresses.

       You call me a prude. I think you can see now that I am nothing of the kind. I’ve endured humiliation same as you. I’m simply asking you not to rush into anything so drastic. It would ruin you. And all sorts of things would be brought to light best left in the dark. And while we all believed you rightly wore white at your wedding, you did almost run away with that scaleywag, what was his name, Lt. Crayne? Or was there more to the relationship? A divorce suit will make everyone wonder about your own indiescretions. Either way, you wouldn’t be recieved by anyone of note. And the children, poor babes, completely innocent, would be shunned and their futures destroyed. And we ourselves would be unable to recieve them as well. One must keep up appearances, even if it would break my heart.

       I implore you, I beg you. Make no demands on Sheamus for a divorce. The family can set you up someplace of your own if you can’t bear to live in the same house with him for the few months of the year when he’s not at sea.

       I am sending you an firescreen I stitched long long ago. Before Sheamus was even a year old. It was made with hopes of happiness and a long life for him.

       I hope as you look at it, you’ll remember the good things about him, when you still loved him like a knight in shining armour. That’s what you always said he was, remember my dear? I can’t believe you’ve come to hate him this much, unless there’s something you’re not telling me.

 

       I am, as always, your devoted mother in law,

                      Evangeline