northwestern
Bnioersitji
ííbrarg
biblioteca jpemína
The Gift of
GRACE THOMPSON SETO
POPULAR NOVELS.
JBy Marion Harland.
L—ALONE.
II.—HIDDEN PATH.
III.—MOSS SIDE. tS
IV.—NEMESIS.
V.—MIRIAM.
VI.—THE EMPTY HEART.
VII.—HELEN GARDNER. ,
VIII.—SUNNYBANK.
IX.—HUSBANDS AND HOMES.'
X.—RUBY'S HUSBAND. t
XI.—PHEMIE'S TEMPTATION.
XII.—AT LAST.
XIII.—TRUE AS STEEL. (N&W.)
"The Novels of Marion Harland are of surpassing ex¬
cellence. By intrinsic power of character-draw¬
ing and descriptive facility, they hold
the reader's attention with the
most intense interest
and fascination."
All published uniform with this volume. Price $1.50
each, and sent free by mail, on receipt of price, by
G. W. CARLETON & CO.,
New York.
HUSBANDS AND
HOMES.
BY
MÄBIOH HAKLAKD, pseud,
'V - VA*«. r-v I. VWes;
AUTHOR OF
"JlLONE," "HIDDEN PATH," "NEMESIS," "MOSS SIDE," "MIRIAM," "THE
EMTTT HEART," "HEIEN GARDNER," " SUNNYBANK," "PHEMIBfS
TEMPTATION," " RÜBT'S HUSBAND," ETC.
NEW YORK:
Carleton, Publisher, Madison Square.
LONDON : S. LOW, SON & CO.
M DCCC LXXIII.
htensí according to Act of Congas, in the yew Iii®,
BY SHELDON & COMPANY
fa Ö&8 (Jtë i OiSce of the District Court of the United States, for tLe Sou than
District of New York.
TO
LOUIS A. GODEY, ESQ.,
TBI KAELT AND CONSTANT FRIEND OF MT AUTHOR-LIFB,
Cjns 00lume
IS OOXDIALLT DEDICATED,
MARION IIARLAND.
CONTENTS.
r¿L-i
NOBODY TO BLAME 9
LEAH MOORE'S TRIAL 153
HOMESPUN AND VELVET 229
TWO WAYS OF KEEPING A WIFE ...... 260
HOW THEY DO IT 300
A HASTY SPEECH, AND WHAT CAME OF IT . . , 34»
NOBODY TO BLAME.
CHAPTER L
Mrs. Boylan was an amiable woman. Amiability had
been her forte through life. By it she had won the largest
piece of pie, the slice of cake which contained most plums, the
warm corner by the fire, and a Benjamin's share of caresses
and praises, whenever a parental review was held of the juve¬
nile corps of which she was a member. It was impossible to
quarrel with her. To the occasional rudeness of a brother or
the taunt of a sister, her only reply was a grieved look and a
flow of silent tears, whose soft eloquence convicted the assailant
in the eyes of lookers-on, if not in his own, as a barbarian of
an aggravated type of inhumanity.
When grown into a comely maiden, this absolute want of
spirit was still the fair Eliza's prime recommendation in the
eyes of Bufus Boylan, an enterprising young merchant, who
was conscious of having temper enough to stock the establish¬
ment he proposed to himself to found very shortly after his
introduction to this paragon of feminity. " Milk and mild¬
ness," says a distinguished writer, " are not the best things for
keeping, and when they turn only a little sour, they may disa¬
gree seriously with young stomachs." How many times, during
each day, the undeveloped features of the Boylan babies were
literally bathed with the maternal tears, how soon their ears
became familiarized with the plaintive whine, the sobbing moan,
10
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
tlie Jong-drawn sigh of their ever-suffering, yet always amiable
mother, it would require a " patent reckoner " to compute.
" What ails your mother ? " once whispered a sympathizing
little visitor to Tiny, the eldest daughter, then about seven
years of age.
Mrs. Boylan was rocking in her large, cushioned chair, hav¬
ing just deposited the sleeping form of her youngest hope —
or sorrow — in the cradle. Her face was buried in her hand¬
kerchief, and from its depths there issued at regular intervals a
heart-breaking sob.
" Oh Î she is only having a good cry ! " said Tiny, carelessly.
" She takes them any time. Just see my Dolly's new shoes ! "
Not that the lachrymose appeared to the world at large to be
Mrs. Boylan's normal state. She was plump and rosy, even when
a matron of fifty. Her tears were of that harmless and abun¬
dant kind that leaves no furrow upon the skin, no smarting of
the eyes or redness of the nose. On the contrary, her com¬
plexion seemed to derive benefit, to be freshened and enriched
by this liberal irrigation. If a child fell down stairs and frac¬
tured an arm ; if a servant broke a valuable dish, or her hus¬
band inveighed with uncommon bitterness against her " slipshod
ways," the obedient brine streamed forth to bemoan, to rebuke,
to deprecate — above all, to relieve her own oppressed bosom,
and in five minutes afterwards no trace of the storm was per
ceptible. Her face had resumed the " sweet expression " so
often admired when she was the subject of remark amongst her
friends, and her voice its delicious drawl.
Mr. Boylan was a shrewd business man, and he was not
slow to make the discovery that his speculation in amiability
was an unlucky investment. As we have hinted, his disposi¬
tion was the reverse of lamb-like. He was quick, passionate,
and uncharitable in judgment, one who needed most delicate
and judicious management to render him a desirable companion
&ÜSBANDS AND HOMES.
11
for life. He tried, at the outset of the pilgrimage matrimonial,
to be very patient and forbearing, very tender and considerate
with his young and sensitive wife — self-control and thought-
fulness which she never appreciated, or indeed suspected. Next,
he essayed argument. She opened her eyes in perplexity, and
as the dim consciousness that he was finding fault with her
dawned upon her misty soul, the fogs dissolved in a flood of
tears, and the conscience-smitten bridegroom kissed her and
begged pardon.
" But he has gotten bravely over that sort of thing ! " Mrs.
Boylan would say to her third daughter ; the others never
troubled themselves to hearken to " Ma's everlasting griev¬
ances." " It is thirty-one years, next month, since we had our
first quarrel, since he first got angry with me, I mean ; for if I
do say it that shouldn't say it, I never had so much as a dispute
with any one in my life. Since that miserable morning—hardly
two months after our wedding-day ! no one knows what I have
been through. Ah ! girls little know what they are doing
when they marry — poor, blind, silly creatures Î "
" Why, Ma, there are some happy marriages, I am sure,"
rejoined the girl cheerily. "Marian and Will are very con¬
tented together."
"Ah! your sister Marian is a wife of my training. She
understands that submission is a woman's lot. That is a sad
lesson that you will have to learn, Maggie, if you don't want to
be miserable."
" I do not covet misery ! that is certain ! " and Maggie gave
an amused laugh, in which there was a slight tone of embar¬
rassment. " But all men are not tyrants. Will is very in¬
dulgent. Between ourselves, I fancy that Marian has her
way quite as often as he does, perhaps oftener. He thinks her
a pattern of perfection."
" That may be so. It is very likely that she does rule him,
12
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Tiny and Marion both take after your father. You are tha
only child I have that looks a bit like me, or resembles me in
disposition. Your sister Lizzie was my image, everybody said.
Dear little thing ! she was taken from the evil to come. I only
hope you will have an easier time in this world than your
mother has had ! "
The convenient handkerchief had wiped away the large
drops that foretold a threatening shower, when the door flew
open, and a young lady (we call her so, par complaisance)
bounced in. No other word could so aptly describe her style
of entrance.
"Just as I expected ! Just exactly what I said."
" What is the matter, Tiny ? " inquired her sister.
" 1 What is the matter ? ' That is a good one ! " Miss Boy-
Ian laughed scornfully. " Oh ! it is nothing to you ! I don't
doubt that ! Here I am slaving myself to death, preparing for
your company, while you are sitting up here, fine lady-like,
gossiping with Ma ! It is just like you ! Precisely like you ! "
" I am very sorry, my dear, that your sister did not know—"
Mrs. Boylan said, tremulously.
" Did not knowr ? Nobody knows why the house is turned
upside down and inside out, if she does not ! For whom is all
this fuss made, I should like to inquire ? It is not my coming-
out party. I am an ignoramus ; but that is one thing I do
profess to know perfectly well ! "
" I ask your pardon, Tiny," said Maggie, rising and putting
aside her work — a cap she was altering for her mother. " I
understood you to say, this morning, that you would not need
me until to-morrow. I will do whatever I can to help you.
What shall I set about first ? "
" It is probable that I have time to show you your work as
well as to attend to mine — highly probable ! " returned Tiny,
sourly ironical. " A child can see that there is everything ta
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
13
be done, and nobody but me to lay hand to an individual thing
And I don't suppose that you are to be trusted to undertake the
simplest job, unless I am by to overlook you. You bread-and-
butter schoolgirls are the most useless beings in creation ! The
most utterly useless ! "
Mrs. Boylan had retired hopelessly into the depths of her
cambric before this philippic was half through. Maggie could
not count upon her championship. If there was any one living
whom the mother feared as much, if not more than she did her
liege lord, it was this daughter. Fancy a keen, spiteful darn¬
ing-needle inspired with a spirit of active hostility against an
eider-down cushion, and you have a lively image of the com¬
bats that were hourly occurring between these two. If the
pillow were a sentient object, it would doubtless object to the
thrusts and pricks and pokes of its opponent, yet the yield¬
ing substance closes up the wound the instant the point is
withdrawn, and the luxurious mass is whole and comfortable
as before. It would have been singular had the children of
such a woman respected her, but the contemptuous impatience
that characterized Tiny's deportment towards her was indic¬
ative no less of a want of heart than ill-breeding.
Maggie flushed up at her sister's offensive observations, but
her voice only betokened wounded feeling as she replied, " I
don't see why you should say that, Tiny. You have not tried
me yet to see whether I am competent or not. I may not be
so useless as you suppose."
" Oh ! you are conceited enough — Goodness knows ! You
always had a sufficient quantity of vanity. A plentiful sup-
ply!"
m What are you hectoring the child about now, Tiny ? " asked
a voice behind the shrew. " Has she been interfering with
your monopoly of vanity ? " Tiny wheeled about like a tee
Tiny wheeled about like a teetotum.
2
14
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" I am 4 Sx storing ' her, as you call it, Mrs. Ainslie, for what
you are eons randy upholding and encouraging her in — her
incorrigible and s-dfish laziness! Pa may well say that but
for me the house would go to wreck and ruin. When I recol¬
lect the condition of ah airs when I first took the reins into my
hands — "
"Fifteen years ago--wasn't it?" interrupted the married
sister, maliciously.
" "When I was the meifiA child," pursued Tiny, pretending
not to hear the saucy query, " I wonder that I have succeeded
in bringing anything like ordot out of the confusion. No one
ever had more unpromising subjects to work upon. Here's
Ma, who never does anything but fret and hinder me — "
A piteous moan from behind the handkerchief, and an im¬
ploring u 0, Tiny ! " from Maggie.
"And Maggie, who is enough to wear one's patience out —
a yea-nay red and white doll, with no more character than
there is in a stick of barley-sugar."
" Barley-sugar is a very popular article of confectionery,'
commented Mrs. Ainslie.
"And last and most provoking — my Lady Marian, who,
not satisfied with hen-pecking her unfortunate husband, must
be meddling continually with other people's family concerns.
Pa is the only reasonable creature in the whole party."
" Because he does not happen to be present ? " said Marian,
interrogatively. " He has one comfort amidst all his afflictions,
there is little danger that his model housekeeper—the one
grain of salt that preserves the rest of us froni spoiling outright
— will ever he separated from him, except by the grim enemy
of all man and womankind."
" Miss Tiny, a man from the confectioner's wants to see you,"
said a servant, and Tiny bounced out, as she had entered, draw
ing to the door with a concussion that shook the house.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
15
Mrs. Ainslie laughed ; her mother sobbed ; Maggie sighed.
" Oh dear ! I wish Tiny would not have these spells ! "
" Spells ! do you call them, my dear? I think it is a chronic
and incurable malady. What set her at you? As Will says
■— 4 What got her back up ? ' He insists upon it, that she was
a cat in a former state of existence."
" I was in fault, I suppose," said Maggie, contritely. " It
was thoughtless in me to settle myself for a quiet chat with Ma
when there was so much to be done in the way of preparation
for to-morrow night. I have been away from home so long
that I am apt to forget household duties. Yet I thought that
Tiny said she did not need my services."
" That is one of the few true things that have passed her
lips to-day. One would suppose, to hear her talk, that she had
some call to be busy, whereas, if your party were to-night in¬
stead of to-morrow, there would be nothing for even such a
fussy manager as she is, to do, but to arrange the flowers in the
parlors and dress herself. The hired waiters will attend to
everything else that remains unfinished."
" Maggie, my dear ! " said Mrs. Boylan, languidly, " I think
I will lie down for awhile. You can take the cap down stairs,
or into your chamber. And Marian is here to keep you com¬
pany, so you will not miss me."
"Yes, ma'am — but I shall want you to try this on pretty
soon now. I cannot finish it very well until you do."
" T am sorry my love — but you must wait until I get up. I
am really quite worn out, in nerves and strength, by all that I
have borne from you children to-day."
" Now, Ma! will you never be just to Maggie and myself?"
said Marian, impatiently. " Why class us with Tiny, when we
are innocent of any offence against you, or her either, for that
matter. It was not our fault that she preceded us into the
world, and that we are blessed with better tempers than that
16
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
which has fallen to her lot. Are you afraid that we will turn
tell-tales, if you dare to say once that she has done wrong ? "
" If you have any regard for my feelings, Marian, you will
say no more of this unhappy altercation," said Mrs. Boylan, on
the verge of another lachrymal overflow. " These misunder
standings between you girls have been the cause of the deepest
grief to me from the time you were born. I often wonder if
other people's children quarrel as mine do. You commenced
it by the time you could talk. It was twenty-five years ago,
last Thursday, that Tiny flew into a passion with poor, dear
little Rufus, and pushed him over into the fire. The scar was
on his chin when he died, two years and four months after¬
wards.5
"Tiny alone was to blame in that fray, I suppose —was she
not F " asked Marian« Your skirts and mine are clear at any
rate, Maggie. It would not be safe to repeat that story in her
presence. Twenty-five years ago ! Think what a fury she
would be in at the inference that she was old enough then to
attempt and nearly succeed in the murder of a younger brother !
When she would have the public believe that she is the junior
of your humble servant, who is not afraid to own to her twenty-
two years ! "
" I don't see why you should be ! " said Mrs. Boylan, sleep¬
ily. " A married woman need never be ashamed to tell her
age. Maggie, child, close the blinds, and get the Afghan out
of the closet there to throw over me — will you ? My head
aches. These pillows are getting hard ! They ought to be
re-stuffed. Shut the door after you, and don't—let—Tiny
— come — up — while •— I — am — asleep ! "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
17
CHAPTER II.
Maggie Boylà» boheld a pleasing picture in the drawing-
room mirror, as she stood before it upon the evening that was
to introduce her to the gay world. True, her features were
not, in all respects, so regular as Marian's, nor her waist, hands,
and feet so diminutive as Tiny's, but she had a clear skin, rosy
cheeks, large brown eyes with a loving look in their depths, red
lips, abundant and lustrous hair, and she was just nineteen
years old. She looked like what she was — a happy, simple-
hearted, affectionate girl ; such a woman as one always pictures
to himself as ripening with time into the fond and faithful
wife, the devoted mother, the patient, skilful nurse, a joy in
prosperity — a very sun of comfort in sorrow.
Mrs. Ainslie was the most intellectual and the most queenly
in stature and bearing, of the sisters. She was dark-haired
and a brunette, animated in manner, and more quick than mer¬
ciful in repartee. Still, except in retorting upon Tiny's- speeches,
there was seldom any venom in her raillery, and Will Ainslie,
the good-natured and good-looking gentleman who was chatting
with his father-in-law and attentively inspecting the trio of full-
dressed belles, thought again within himself, as he had done
scores of times before, that he had culled the flower of the
flock.
Poor Tiny ! no one awarded to her this distinction except
her own self-conceit. She was short and slight—petite she
liked to be called — with a face which parlor company deemed
2*
18
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
passable, while those in the family, and the many who had had
a taste of her real character, considered it actually disagreeable
by reason of the petulance and ill-nature, thinly veiled by girl¬
ish affectations. She had never kept a friend, although she was
forever coveting intimacies among her associates, generally
selecting the latest comer into the circle as a fit subject for
experiment. The rise, decline and fall, of the intercourse
between these newly-elected affinities might be predicted with a
wonderful degree of accuracy by those who were conversant
with the disposition of one of the parties and the inexperience
of the other. If Mrs. Boylan boasted truly that she had never
quarrelled with any one, her daughter assuredly did a double
and treble share of this warm and lively work. If she troubled
her memory with such memoranda, her list of discarded and
alienated favorites must have equalled in number the years she
had spent in this unstable world. Her temper was at once
fiery, easily aroused, and lastingly vindictive, a phase of dispo¬
sition that, luckily for the happiness and growth of the human
race, is exceedingly rare. As the eldest born, she had been
more indulged than the other children during her earlier years,
and still retained a considerable degree of influence over her
father, partly on account of her energetic administration of
household affairs and the consequent increase of bodily comfort
to himself, partly from the fact that while she stood in sufficient
awre of his harsh and irritable moods to bridle her tongue when
tempted to a direct encounter with him, she was, nevertheless,
more free in her behavior towards him, more ready to entertain
him when he desired a social chat, than was either of the deep¬
er-hearted and more sensitive daughters, who had trembled
before his frowns and invectives until fear had well-nigh
usurped the place of filial love.
"It seems to me that Tiny grows more outrageous every
day," Marian had said to her husband on her r eturn home the
previous day.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
19
" What possesses the girl ? " he asked.
" The fact that she is no longer a girl, I imagine," replied
his wife, sagaciously. " She is crazy to catch a husband."
The truth might have been more delicately revealed, but it
was the truth. The civilized world holds not a class of beings
who are more to be commiserated than the sisterhood of unde¬
niably old maids, who are such from necessity, and not choice.
To avoid this doom, Miss Boylan had striven from twenty to
twenty-five, with anxious hope — from twenty-five to thirty,
■with agonizing endeavor. Without beauty, she craved the
incense offered at the shrine of personal loveliness ; without
high mental endowments, she thought herself entitled to the
respectful homage due to genius ; totally destitute of amiability,
she was yet envious of the loving admiration that followed her
younger sister's steps.
Oh ! it is sad ! terrible ! this never-to-be-satisfied craving for
the good one has not the ability to win, the merit to deserve,
nor the capacity to value aright ! We are apt to imagine
that deficiency or unworthiness has a corresponding influence
upon the desires, whereas Nature is, in fact, seldom thus com¬
passionate in her dispensations. Tiny wanted some one to
worship and maintain her every whit as much as Marian did.
If love and protection were not essentials of her existence, as
they were of Maggie's, she was yet fully awake to the con¬
sciousness that they would be very pleasant accompaniments
of her daily life, and she shrank with loathing from the odium
that attaches itself to single blessedness. Yet Marian had
been eagerly sought and exultingly won within a year after she
entered society, and must, to add insult to injury, take a house
within a stone's throw of her father's residence, as if on purpose
to tan talize her slighted senior with the spectacle of her wedded
bliss.
And here to-night was little Maggie " hardly old enough to
20
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
be out of the nursery," as Tiny had represented to her fathet
for two years past, in opposition to Marian's assertions that it
was time that she was " out — that " little piece of nonsense
and insipidity " assuming a woman's dress and a woman's place
in the world !
" The baby" will be thinking of getting married next, I sup¬
pose ! " she said, sarcastically to Marian, whose eulogiums upon
the debutante's appearance were perhaps the more profuse
because of Tiny's annoyance.
" Of course ! " Marian's eyes sparkled with fun. " It is her
manifest destiny. Such a face and such a heart will attract
wooers, thick as the leaves in Vallambrosa. It is a plain case
of cause and effect."
Tiny tossed her head. " I pity the man who becomes the
possessor of your very salable bit of finery ! But I have no
doubt you are correct in supposing that there will be offers for
it. Men are always taken in by such ' sweet, pretty' articles
without stopping to examine the quality of their bargains."
" Who can blame them, my dear? You wouldn't have them
prefer shop-worn and faded commodities, would you ? " said
Marian, with the most innocent smile imaginable.
" ' Ever since the world began,
It's always been the way '—
Hasn't it, Will?"
" Has not what ? " asked her husband, throwing himself
upon the sofa beside her.
" Have not all men a propensity to love beautiful and good
women, and pass by the less lovely Î "
" I should say that it depends upon the taste of the lover.
The ugliest and sourest visaged women I ever saw had a hus¬
band who adored her. He thanked Providence, he said, for
the diversity of likings among mankind, since, but for this wis«
provision of Nature, every man would want his Polly."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
21
They all laughed, for the little anecdote was told during a
lull in Mrs. Boylan's talk with Maggie, and the less friendly
dialogue between the married and single sister. A ring at the
door was heard at this auspicious moment. Mrs. Boylan arose
with a sigh and took her allotted position near the entrance, her
features subsiding into the sweet placidity suitable to the occa¬
sion. Her husband growled as he stood by her ; Marian sat
still ; Tiny bounced up, shook out her skirts with a nervous
twitch, settled herself anew in her tight corsage with another
twitch, cast a look at the mirror, opened and flirted her fan,
and was ready for exhibition. The fair novice in festal scenes
maintained her stand by the pier-glass, unaffected and therefore
graceful, her fine bloom heightened by the excitement of antici¬
pated pleasure.
Suspense was soon ended by the appearance of a gentleman
of middle stature and a cheerful, frank face, whose carriage
had the ease of one used to the gay world, and, in the present
circumstances, the cordial familiarity of a friend in a friend's
house. Maggie uttered a joyous exclamation, and ran forward
to salute him.
" Oh, Mr. Cleveland ! I am glad you came so early ! "
" You see ! she has not the remotest notion of dignity or
even propriety ! " sneered Tiny aside to Mrs. Ainslie. " Any
other girl would have learned how to receive company in a
whole year of parlor-boarding."
" Let us see you do the thing up brown now, Tiny ! " whis¬
pered her brother-in-law. " There is nothing like a living
example."
" Which you, as the eldest of us all, should set for that giddy
young thing," subjoined Marian, cruelly.
During this by-play, Maggie detained Mr. Cleveland, that
she might pour out her enthusiastic thanks for the beautiful
bouquet he had sent her that day.
22
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" You see I have given it the post of honor," site said, hold«
ing it up in its jewelled cornucopia. " For this " — touching
the latter bijou, u I shall thank you by and by. I cannot say
all I would at one time. But I must tell you now, that the
entire gift was almost worthy of the donor ! "
She bowed her arch, sparkling face, in a sweeping courtesy
of mock reverence, and stepped back to let him speak to the
others.
" Bravo, Maggie ! " said Mr. Ainslie, in a subdued tone,
clapping a noiseless " encore " with his gloved hands. " The
witch has a style of her own — eh, Tiny ? "
Bat Tiny, too, had something to say to Mr. Cleveland, some¬
thing special and private, for lie liad to bend to hear it. Her
breath fluttered ; her words were low ; her manner full of
meaning. Yet the mere matter of the sentence was common¬
place enough.
" They are very lovely. I thank you for them ! " she said,
looking down at the flowers in her hand, as if every bud were a
gem of untold value.
Mr. Cleveland smiled. " I am satisfied if they please you."
It was an imprudent speech in one who ought to have known
the lady thus addressed. But it was John Cleveland's practice
to say pleasant things, when he could do so conscientiously.
He was gratified that his gifts were acceptable to both sisters.
It wras not obligatory upon him to express the different degrees
of satisfaction with which he listened to their acknowledgments.
So he gave Tiny's mite of a hand a gentle squeeze, as became
a favored habitué of the mansion, paid his respects smilingly to
Airs. Ainslie, and shook hands with, her husband, who said,
* How are you now, John ? "
These gentlemen were partners in business, and strongly
attached to one another by ties of personal friendship. When
Will Ainslie was wooing Marian, he brought John along So
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
23
keep Tiny out of the way, and to entertain the parents while
they were in the parlor. The first six months of this inter¬
course were perhaps the happiest of Tiny's life. She had often
hoped before, that she was 011 the high road to Hymen's court,
expectations speedily and grievously blasted by the perfidy or
insensibility of the supposititious suitors. She had never heard
a tale of love, and had a natural hankering after this experience.
As week after week still saw the friends steady visitors of the
Misses Boylan, Tiny dared to be confident of the result. She
was less irascible by day, and her eyes prevented the night-
watches with wraking visions of the coming glory dawning upon
her woful singlehood. Then came a shock. Mr. Ainslie spoke,
and Mr. Cleveland was mute. , Marian was engaged with the
full approbation of her family and friends, and no one seemed
more pleased at the betrothal, excepting, of course, the parties
most nearly interested in the affair, than did Will's partner.
He came as frequently as before ; talked business with Mr.
Boylan ; brought novels to the indolent mother ; frolicked and
studied school-books with Maggie, a merry, winsome nymph
of sixteen ; chatted gravely or gayly with Tiny, as her will
inclined — but, alas ! never sentimentally ! What ailed the
man ? Once a bright idea struck her. He was faint-hearted
and dubious as to the answer he would receive if he declared
his mind. Her maidenly modesty had misled him. She must
be more encouraging in her demeanor. And encourage him,
OO o "
she did, to that extent that he stayed away from the house for
four whole weeks without the pretence of an apology. After
this voluntary banishment, he gradually resumed his old stand¬
ing, with no show of unusual reserve, and the alarmed Tiny
resolved to be more cautious.
Marian was married, and Maggie sent down to the city to
" finish her education " at a famous institute, where young ladies
w 're varnished in the most approved fashion and at the highest
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
prices, and the phase of things at home underwent some altera¬
tion. Mr. Cleveland met Miss Boylan oftener at her brother-in-
law's than in her fathers house ; yet while there was less to
feed her forlorn hope, there was nothing in particular to dampen
it, unless it were his continued and inexplicable silence upon
the one topic. It is astonishing how obstinately a woman will,
in such circumstances, cling to the ghost of a chance of finally
securing the game she is pursuing. Mr. Cleveland was, as
Tiny knew — but trusted that he did not — two years younger
than herself ; popular and respected ; with a warm heart, a
clear head, and sunny temper ; in many, in most respects, her
antipodes. He would not be likely to meet rejection from any
youthful and pretty woman whose affections were not previously
engaged. Why, if marriage were an object with him, should
he be spending the best years of his manhood in a slow court¬
ship of one so little charming as herself?
Once or twice, Marian, in revolving this question, and see¬
ing, with her usual penetration, the futility of her sister'a
dreams, had, in genuine kindness, tried to open the latter's eyes
to the truth. A tempestuous scene was, in each case, the con¬
sequence of her well meant interference, terminated by a request
from Tiny that Mrs. Ainslie would, for the future, confine her
attention to her own affairs and leave those of others alone.
Mr. Cleveland was a favorite with Marian, and she would have
regretted, for his sake, his entanglement with Tiny. She had
long since ceased to fear this; still, she thought him unnecessarily
polite to her, and frequently found herself wishing that the
panther-temper would fly out and end the apparent intimacy.
This had never occurred. Tiny's amiability before his face
was both amusing and pitiable to behold, when one saw how
ineffectual her sacrifices would eventually prove. She kept
him by her now, by rapid questions and direct appeals for
opinion and information, until the rooms were nearly filled.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
25
The Boylans lived in one of the country towns inhabited by
city people, that line the Hudson for many miles above New
York. Most of their guests on this occasion were from the
last-named place, and all the appointments of the entertainment
were equally removed from rustic incompleteness. By dint of
keeping a close watch upon opportunity, Mr. Cleveland at
length effected his escape from the immediate neighborhood of
his fair adorer, and crossed over to where the Ainslies stood,
still together, and conversing as contentedly as though they had
never promised openly to " cleave to one another." John was
no interruption to their lively talk.
" I am advising my wife to undertake the compilation of the
next Directory," said Mr. Ainslie. " Without being unkind,
her running commentary upon arrivals is instructive and
amusing."
" That is because you never trouble yourself to remember
people's names and histories," returned his wife. "Mr. Cleve¬
land will set me down as a regular scandal-monger, whereas I
only tell you whose children, uncles, aunts, and cousins some
of these friends are."
" I am not sure that a veritable pedigree of their families
would not be the greatest insult you could offer to many mem¬
bers of dur most fashionable assemblies," said John. " Few
men, in our democratic country, can afford the luxury of a
grandfather."
"Fie! who is the satirist, now?" replied Marian, reprov¬
ingly. " I assure you that every person here is, to the best of
my knowledge, eminently respectable."
" Oh ! no doubt of it ! certainly ! " Mr. Cleveland assented
mechanically.
His regards were fixed upon a group that formed an ani¬
mated tableau in the centre of the apartment. A tall, dashing
girl, dressed in the height of the mode, held Maggie by both
3
26
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
hands in the seeming rapture of greeting. Her eyes were very
black, her cheeks very red, her teeth very white, and she
showed them a great deal. She had entered upon the arm of
a young man, who stood now by her, and directly in front of
Maggie. He was handsome, so far as features and coloring
went, and irreproachable in dress, yet there was that in his
expression and bearing that impressed John with the idea that
he was not a gentleman, according to his estimate of true breed¬
ing and character. This idea may have been suggested by the
slight and habitual curl of the upper lip, not the curve of pride,
but that more objectionable and peculiar one that seems always
sniffing at some unpleasant odor, which the olfactories are
doomed to perceive continually. Or it may have been that his
steady gaze down into the eyes of the maiden hostess displeased
the looker-on. True, he had himself looked into these same
hazel orbs half an hour before, longer than was actually re¬
quired by the circumstances of their meeting, and found the
operation decidedly pleasant, but the like act was daring, posi¬
tively rude, in a stranger, such as this fellow must be. John
could not have told why he did not satisfy his curiosity upon
this head, by a question concerning the presumptuous cavalier.
He asked, instead : —
" Do you know, Mrs. Ainslie, who that lady is ? "
" It is Marie Dupont — Maggie's most intimate friend at
school. Have you never seen her before ? "
" I think not. Is she French ? "
" Her father was. Her mother is a widow now ; they live
in an elegant villa, about three miles below, a little back from,
the river."
" She is handsome."
11 Yes, and very stylish. She is hardly the sort of girl whom
one would expect our little Maggie to affiliate with, yet I dare
say that she is very good in her way. All school-girls culti¬
vate these deathless friendships."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
27
"Average longevity— six weeks ! " said John, smiling.
He was struggling to surmount his ridiculous reluctance to
OO o
allude to Miss Dupont's escort, when Mr. Ainslie spared him
the effort.
" Is that her brother with her ? "
m Oh, no ! it is a Mr. Lorraine — an admirer, I suspect,
although Maggie is very prudent in her revelations on this
subject—- as in honor bound. He drove Miss Dupont up here,
once last year. They, at least, are, to all appearance, a well-
matched pair."
" Both ' fast ' — hey ? " said her husband.
" Rather ! " was the reply, as Mrs. Ainslie turned away to
mingle with her sisters' guests.
It was not long before Mr. Cleveland presented himself at
Maggie's side. She was still with Miss Dupont and her at¬
tendant, but looked up with a bright, sweet smile, at John's
approach.
" You anticipate my errand, I perceive," he said, offering
his hand. " The band is calling us to the floor. You remem¬
ber your promise to immortalize me by giving me the first
set."
Maggie's color deepened, then faded with surprise and con¬
sternation.
" Did I ? " she stammered. " I forgot ! "
" My memory is more faithful, or the subject is of more im¬
portance to me than to you. The engagement is two months
old. It was made the very day I learned that this party was
a fixed fact."
He spoke gayly, more to reassure her than from the light«
ness of his own spirits.
" I am very sorry ! I have just told Mr. Lorraine that I
Would dance with him. Mr. Lorraine—-Mr. Cleveband ! "
The gentlemen bowed stiffly.
28
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
"It was very careless —very forgetful — inexcusable in me,
Mr. Cleveland," Maggie went on. " If you gentlemen will
excuse me, I had rather not dance at all this set. Then, no¬
body can feel slighted."
"Nonsense ! " exclaimed Miss Dupont, in a high, loud key,
that set John's teeth on edge. " Not open the ball when you
make your début ! My child ! who ever heard of such a
shocking thing ! "
" I am to understand, then, that you have made an engage¬
ment that conflicts with my happiness ? " said Mr. Cleveland,
so calmly and kindly that Maggie's fluttering sensibly abated.
"Permit me, sir ! " Mr. Lorraine interposed. " Miss Boylan
has done me the infinite honor to promise me her hand for the
set now about to form. If priority of claim is the question to
be disposed of, I believe that my right cannot be disputed.
Four months since — four months and four days ; I like to be
exact, you see — Miss Boylan was passing the Sabbath with
her friend, Miss Dupont. The subject of this festal occasion
was introduced. It wras spoken of as the indispensable finale
of school-life, and the prelude to freedom and social enjoy¬
ments. Upon the spot, I solicited the boon, her granting of
which has created this little discussion. Miss Dupont will
substantiate my statement, if necessary."
His pompous affectation and complacent air confirmed John
in the prejudice he had conceived against him at sight.
"A tale so succinct and probable needs no corroboration,
sir," he said, rather haughtily. " Nor was it my intention to
discuss the matter at all. The simple expression of Miss Boy-
lan's wishes was all that I sought."
With a bow in which there wras no perceptible mingling of
wounded pride, he left them, and the triumphant Lorraine led
out his blushing partner. Blushing, but not with pleasure.
There was a troubled look upon her brow that accorded neither
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
29
with the ruling spirit of the hour, nor the fancy of her attend¬
ant.
" I shall regret my declaration of rights if it has interfered
with your inclination," lie said, bending towards Maggie's
ear.
Her glance was eager and truthful. " You know better than
that ! I am only sorry that Mr. Cleveland is disappointed —
perhaps offended."
" He has no right to be — at any rate you have done nothing
that should make him angry. You really forgot that you had
promised to dance with him."
" The only doubt is — " said Maggie, hesitatingly, "whether
it was right — I would say best — to bring forward a prior
engagement — "
" Which never existed ? " Lorraine completed the sentence.
" The spirit, if not the letter of the compact, was not a fiction.
I have a distinct recollection of a vow I registered, that most
delightful of all Sabbath evenings, that mine should be the
nearest place to you in this very scene. While you and Marie
were chanting the praises of liberty, I was holding out my
hands—figuratively speaking — for the fetters Cupid was pre¬
paring."
The dance began, and several minutes elasped ere Lorraine
secured an opportunity to conclude.
" Granting that I invented the story entire, does not the good
Book say that the end sanctifies the means ? "
" Not that I ever read ! " laughed Maggie, and they were
again separated by the figure of the set.
The tempter was satisfied that his sophistry, however shallow,
had fallen, like delicious music, upon her heart, and — not that
he was forgiven, for she would never have dreamed of charg¬
ing him with wrong-doing, but that her conscience was quieted.
A want of courage in speaking, even more than in action,
3*
80
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
was Maggie Boylan's weakest point. The original texture of
her moral constitution, although firmer than was her mother's,
yet bore sufficient resemblance to it to call for great watchful¬
ness and healthful toning on the part of those to whom her
training was intrusted. It would be hard to decide who had
most to do with making this latent canker palpable and chronic,
'— the silly mother, the harsh father, or the petulant sister.
All had their share in the work together, and did it so thor¬
oughly that they blamed one another for having, as Mr. Boylan
phrased it, " taken from the girl's disposition the little back¬
bone Nature gave it." She shrank from contention and avoided
its causes. A difference of opinion angered her father and
worried Tiny — therefore Maggie suppressed her sentiments,
and seemed to adopt theirs. They were resolute in holdiug to
their own way ; she meekly followed where they led until she
almost forgot how to walk alone. Marian fought against the
o o O
like subjugation in her case, and, thanks to her paternal in¬
heritance of intellect and will, succeeded in maintaining her
individuality. But even she unintentionally increased Maggie's
dependence by taking up the gauntlet in her behalf, whenever
her pet was assailed in her presence.
This passivity under a prompt or plausible decision on the
part of others had caused Maggie to acquiesce in Lorraine's
ready falsehood, quite as much as had her preference for this
one of the rival claimants for her hand. A feeling of respon¬
sibility was an unknown sensation to her. She wTas wax in any
strong grasp, a delicate and pure material, very pleasant to the
touch and beautiful to the eye —but only wax, after all.
It was easier to put aside her scruples concerning her tacit
assent to the invention that had gained Lorraine the victory,
than to reply without faltering to Mrs. Ainslie's inquiry, as she
encountered her some time later in the evening.
" I thought Mr. Cleveland told me that you were engaged
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
31
to him for the first set, Maggie. I never was more surprised
in my life than when I saw him dancing with Tiny instead."
" I had forgotten a promise to Mr. Lorraine," answered
Maggie, her lip trembling like a child's. " I have been so un-
happy — " and the brown eyes were overcast.
" Never mind ! " Marian laid her hand caressingly upon her
shoulder. " Nothing must make you sad to-night. Was John
displeased ? "
" I am afraid so ! " Maggie fingered her bouquet in pertur¬
bation, that, for certain reasons of her own, was very pleasing
to Mrs. Ainslie.
" That was very silly in him. He must not be so easily
huffed. I will speak to him and make it all right."
a Oil ! if you only would ! " exclaimed Maggie, with real
joy, for the idea of being at variance with her old friend was
very painful, whenever she allowed herself to dwell upon it.
" ou are the best sister in the world ! "
Mrs. Ainslie set off upon her embassage of peace, meditating,
with amused gratification, upon the guileless transparency of
character that thus suffered the workings of the deepest feel inga
to he revea«*!.
32
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
CHAPTER III.
Mr. Cleveland had had a succession of partners, all alike
indifferent to him, and having conducted the last one to her
seat, spoken the few nothings that etiquette required, and picked
up the handkerchief she had dropped, the usual accident on
such occasions, was bowing himself off, when he caught Mrs.
Ainslie's eye. In obedience to its mute behest, he made his
way to her without delay.
" I bring you an olive-branch," she said, playfully. " Our
poor little Maggie is terribly grieved, because she is convinced
that her forgetfulness has made an enemy of you for life.
Surely you know her better than to believe her capable of
wilful offence to you or any one else. She is giddy and hasty,
like other girls, and has almost atoned for her fault by the pain
she has suffered since it was committed. It has quite marred
the pleasure of her party. She came near making a Niobe of
herselfj when she confided to me the fact of your displeasure,
and her penitence."
" My displeasure, as you term it, was not with her," replied
John, whose heart had grown lighter with every word of this
address. " I could have wished, I confess, that since I was to
be forgotten, my more fortunate competitor had been a differ¬
ent personage from Mr. Lorraine."
"But you understand how that happened?" inteirupted
Mrs. Ainslie. "He, as Miss Dupont'sfiancé, is according to
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
33
Maggie's notion, entitled to especial kindness from the prospec¬
tive bridemaid."
" Ali ! that view of the case had not occurred to me ! " Mr.
Cleveland's brow was all clear and bright again. " Will it be
necessary for me to make my peace upon my bended knee, do
you think ? " he turned back to ask.
" You need not try it, except as a dernier ressortshe re¬
joined. " Will ! " she tapped her husband's arm with her fan,
— "I have made an agreeable discovery — one likely to be
highly advantageous to all parties concerned. Ask me about
it when we go home."
Maggie did not observe Mr. Cleveland's approach, and her
start and confused exclamation at the sound of his voice were
sweet flattery.
" Maggie ! " it said, in his customary gentle tone — always
most gentle to her, albeit she might not detect its different ca¬
dence, " I have waited very patiently for my dance. How
soon may I have it ? "
Her answer was charmingly irrelevant. " And you are
really not angry with me ? How very good you are ! "
" How very wicked I would be to lose my temper for so
slight a cause, you ought to say ! And you have really and
soberly thought that you had banished me for the whole even¬
ing ! My question still waits for a reply. How stand the
tablets now ? "
" I am free for the next set. That is nice ! And I promise
never to forget you again while I live ! "
Ile replied by taking her bouquet-holder — his present —-
and silently directing her attention to a wreath of Forget-me-
nots, set with turquoises, twined about the golden cup, and the
treaty was consummated.
He danced twice with her, and had the additional bliss of
handing her in to supper, none of which privileges might be
34
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
regarded as distinguished marks of favor, but he was supremely
happy in their enjoyment. So amiable was he rendered there»
by, that he went, after his second dance with Maggie, and so¬
licited Miss Dupont's hand for whatever set was most agreeable
to her. Miss Marie was very gracious, and professed to be
disconsolate that she liad not one vacancy upon her list, except
for the last dance, from which she had already excused herself
to several gentlemen, on account of a Polka, which was to
follow it immediately.
"And if I expect to do myself justice in waltzing, I must
rest awhile first. I dote upon la valse, — Schottisch, Redowa,
polkas of all species ! "
She went on talking volubly, and John, naturally interested
in learning somewhat of the character of Maggie's bosom friend,
O Ou '
willingly stayed to listen and judge. He caught himself mar¬
velling, ere long, how so artless and upright a girl as his
favorite could fancy the companionship of this piece of artifici¬
ality and quasi sentimentality.
"Just the woman who would read Sue and George Sand by
stealth, and jump out of a window to marry a Polish barber ! "
he said to himself. " This intimacy cannot endure many
months," and his thoughts leaped daringly forward to muse
upon the changes ofttimes wrought by the " expulsive power
of a new affection " — when Marie said, dropping her voice to
a confidential pitch : —
" Is not Maggie an angel ? "
Oo ÎD
Mr. Cleveland colored like a boy accused of his trial love
affair.
" She is very pretty ! " he recovered himself so far as to
say.
"Very pretty! You ungallant creature! can you say no
more ? Is it want of appreciation, or " — casting a bold, mean¬
ing glance at his face — " the fear lest you should be betrayed
into saying too much ? "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
3
Tills was going ahead rather fast for 5, ten minutes' acquaint¬
ance, even had Miss Dupont been the kind of person lie
would have intrusted with a tender secret. Therefore, with
that semblance of frank surprise that best veils the real feelings,
John looked her straight in the eyes.
" Afraid of saying what I think about my old playfellow —
the Maggie whom I have known and petted for years ! That
would be too absurd ! "
"Yes ! I know you are sworn friends, She regards you
quite as a godfather. Shall I own it ? before I saw you, I
imagined you, from her description, to be fifty at the youngest,
a gray-haired bachelor in spectacles, with a red bandanna hand¬
kerchief in one hand and a box of bonbons in the other. Was
it not a ridiculous notion ? "
" That is for you to decide," said Mr. Cleveland, with rather
an unsuccessful attempt at a laugh. Was he, then, so ancient,
so very much older and graver than herself, in Maggie's esti¬
mation ?
" She is the dearest little thing in the round world ! " pur¬
sued Marie. " We are never happy apart, and I am to have
lier with me, half the time, now she has done with that horrid
Institute. I graduated a year ago, but we have seen each
other every week since. This will be a heavenly winter for
us both. I hope her godfather will not neglect her while she
is in her other home. Her friends will always be as welcome
as mine, in my mother's house."
" It I ever cross the threshold, I give you leave to shoot me
on the spot ! " was the hearer's mental ejaculation. He said
aloud, " Thank you ! " and bowed.
The floor was cleared for a waltz, and Mr. Lorraine came
up very seasonably to end the interview.
" I have given him a lesson lie won't forgot in a hurry,"
said Marie to her friend, as he passed his arm around her waist
36
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
in the fashionable embrace licensed by our " best society " aa
both graceful and innocent.
" I am sorry you took that trouble," was the reply. " A
spirited rivalry makes these affairs more interesting — keeps
up the excitement. I flatter myself, moreover, that I would
prove no mean antagonist for this 'very superior — this excel¬
lent young man,' as I heard two old ladies call him, just now
They were off ! whirling and skimming, floating and sinking,
with a dexterity that argued diligent and joint practice, round
and round, steadily and unflaggingly, not a false step, not an
angular movement, the lady's eyes brighter and blacker, her
half smile just affording a glimpse of lier white teeth ; her part¬
ner easy and self-assured, yet plainly conscious of his present
importance in the sight of the observers. Such were soon
many of those who had entered the mazy circle with them.
One couple after another withdrew from the maelstrom in pru¬
dence or weariness, the remaining dancers becoming more
conspicuous, as each pair dropped off, until Mr. Lorraine and
his companion had the whole floor to themselves. Still the
gliding whirl went on ; still the lady's light feet skimmed the
floor, as a sea-bird's the waves, and the firm, elastic step of her
cavalier was regular as at the first round. They coveted notice
and admiration, and they had it. They cared not a straw for
adverse criticism, sneering envy, or grave disapprobation, and
they received these also in profusion.
" Sound in wind ! No question about that ! " observed Mr.
•Carvill, a brother merchant, who held Mr. Boylan's button in
a snug corner. " Pair of fancy nags. Step high ! "
" Miss Dupont — is it not ? " Mr. Boylan screwed up his
eyelids, being rather short-sighted, so as to get a better look at
the waltzers. " Who is that with her ? "
" Name is Lorraine. Book-keeper for Lawrence & Co.
Protégé of Lawrence, Senior. Fair salary. Spends money
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
37
like a nabob. Drives fast horse. Gives and takes oyster-
suppers. Champagne, cards. Nig1 ts v. hen theie are 110 par¬
ties, faro-bank. Lawrence thinks it's all straight. Isn't my
clerk. None of my business. Isn't engaged to my daughter.
That couldn't be ! "
This string of laconicisms, which was delivered with great
deliberation, and punctuated by knowing nods and an odd purse
of the mouth, would have occasioned the discharge of any
official in Mr. Boylan's employ, however strong his confidence
in him up to that time had been, and the same might have been
affirmed of nine out of ten of Mr. Carvill's acquaintances. He
was a shrewd, hard man, who never said anything he was not
sure of, and when he did speak, his terse, aphoristic sentences
had the sound and weight of oracles.
4i He is engaged to Miss Dupont, I hear," said Mr. Boylan.
" Hasn't she a father, or brother, or guardian — somebody to
look after lier ? She is too clever a girl to be allowed to throw
herself away in this manner."
" Father dead. Brothers younger than herself. Mother gay,
i ich widow. May marry again. Four children. Marie real
head of family. Smart as a steel-trap. Smartest of us do silly
things sometimes. Hardest thing in nature to manage is a
woman whose head is set upon marrying a scamp."
•" If she were my daughter I would manage her ! " said Mr.
Boylan, and he really looked as if lie could. " I would lock,
her up and feed her on bread and water for a year, before she
should disgrace me by bringing this worthless puppy into the
family. But, as I asked before — hasn't the girl a guardian?"
" Mother nominal guardian. Executrix too."
" Was her father a born fool, that he made such a will? "
" Sharp fellow in most matters. Would cheat you out of
ycur eye teeth if you did not look out. You remember him.
Old Adolph Dupont, Wall Street."
4
58
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
"Indeed! He did not lack sense. Was he in his d.tage
when he drew up his will?"
" Gray mare the better horse ! " said Mr. Carvill, drily.
Mr. Boylan replied even more sententiously, " More foci
be !"
" I flatter myself that we have created a sensation for once,"
whispered Lorraine, as one final, sweeping whirl brought the
performance to a close, and he conducted Marie, flushed, but,
as she declared loudly, unwearied, to a seat.
Maggie pressed forward to congratulate her. " You have
achieved wonders to-night, my love."
Mr. Lorraine's bow showed that he appropriated a share of
the compliment.
They had together accomplished divers things which were
destined to exert an important influence upon the future of
more than one person there present. First and foremost, John
Cleveland felt that it was high time he threw off the mask of
the elderly friend, and paid open suit to the girl he had loved
for four years. The bud he had watched, and nurtured and
dreamed over, was at length unfolded, and there were those
who might account his constancy of devotion, his patient wait¬
ing and considerate reserve, as nothing in the contest for the
prize now displayed to the general gaze. Secondly, he had
conceived a distrust of Miss Dupont and a dislike for her re¬
puted betrothed, and resolved to withdraw Maggie from their
influence as soon as he had the right and opportunity. They,
on the other hand, without suspecting this one of his designs,
agreed in singling him out as the man whose pretensions to
Ler hand were likely to be soonest asserted, and most strongly
seconded by her relatives.
Tiny had picked up quite a store of sweet crums, compli¬
ments, attentions, etc., the fact of Mr. Cleveland's having chosen
her as his earliest partner being the largest and richest of the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
39
collection. She reviewed these acquisitions to her stock of
mementoes, as she went through her minute and old-maidish
preparations for bed, at three in the morning, and felt that she
had made some progress in the tedious journey towards a change
of name. Marian had adroitly insinuated a bitter drop by her
praises of Maggie, before and after the ball, but this was fairly
neutralized by Miss Dupont and her fascinating escort.
" My dear Miss Tiny," Marie had said at parting, " we young
people must be very sociable this season, and I foresee that
you.and I will have to be the mainsprings in the good work.
Maggie is new and shy, and not altogether so energetic as we
are. This energy is not a bad thing after all — is it ? I don't
know how society would get on but for such brave spirits as
ours. We must contrive frequent family parties, drives, and
excursions. And pray use your influence " — with an expres
sive smile — " to induce your knight, Mr. Cleveland, to join
our band."
" How unlike members of the same family sometimes are ! "
Mr. Lorraine remarked during the single set which he bestowed
o O
at Marie's instigation, upon Tiny, that astute diplomatist having
apprised him of the expediency of conciliating the stinging
nettle of the household Boylan. " You three sisters belong to
as many different orders of beauty. Yours is the sylph-like,
the ethereal ; Miss Maggie is a plump Hebe, and Mrs. Ainslie
looks the literary lady to perfection. Her stateliness, un¬
doubtedly, proceeds partly from her superiority in age. It is
the air of authority which the eldest of a family insensibly
acquires."
" Oh, she is decidedly the blue of the trio ! " returned the
sylph, radiantly. " We are very proud of Marian's talents."
Mr. Boy lan had likewise his opinion of the dashing French
couple, one which he would not have altered at the bidding of
all the women, and all, save one, of the men in both hemi«
40
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
spheres. As he had no present call to think 01 speak of it, hi*
locked it away in his faithful strong-box, memory, in case it
should ever be needed. No harm could come of the continu¬
ance of such intercourse as now existed between his girls and
Miss Dupont. If, after her marriage, Lorraine's evil courses
menaced his social position or business standing, the acquaint¬
ance "must be broken off, instanter ! " This was his way of
stating the process of disrupting the eternal friendship avowed
by the schoolmates. So long as his children associated with
those of their own rank in life, it was not his province to in¬
quire into the private histories of their companions. " Women
must have confidants and cronies, and all that kind of stuff, to
gossip and cry with," he reasoned. " Only they must never
bother me with their tales and quarrels." Thus dismissing
this trivial subject, he set himself about the arduous task of
extorting Mr. Carvill's judgment upon a certain promising, but
rather new railroad stock, then exciting the noble minds of
speculators.
And our heroine -— for insipid as she may be esteemed bv
others beside Tiny — an unremarkable, merely pretty girl, with
a soft heart and not particularly stout brain, with little to rec¬
ommend her beyond feeling and sweetness of temper, ladylike
manners, buoyant spirits and a fair stock of intelligence, unless
we appeal to the sordid, by adding her prospect of receiving a
comfortable fortune from her father — such as she was, MasMe
" OO
is our heroine— what thoughts carried she to her rest ? There
was a full moon, and it showed quite distinctly the rosy face
nestled among the white pillows. The brown eyes were large
and thoughtful, but not sad. Anything but that ! She was
dreaming over the events of the evening, too excited and happy
to sleep. She needed not Tiny's emphatic proclamation, as
the last carriage drove off. " Thank gracious ! It is over
and it has been a complete success I "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES. 41
Of what she did not say, but modest as Maggie was, she did
not affect to deny to herself that she had not been a failure.
Her experience to-night was but the harbinger of continued
enjoyment. She had the stamp of popularity, and hencefor¬
ward, her course was easy. She had outshone Tiny, pleased
her father, almost interested her mother, and delighted Marian.
But none of these reflections kindled that light in her eye,
summoned that tender smile to her lips. " He says that he is
proud of me ! " she whispered to herself, in a kind of timid
exultation, and she repeated it aloud, as if to assure herself that
she had indeed heard praise she scarcely dared receive.
" Proud of me ! of his silly little Maggie ! Ought not I to be
the happiest girl alive ? "
4«
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
CHAPTER IV.
"Maggie is going to spend to-morrow with me, Ma," said
Marian, one evening, about a month after the party.
This was the most respectful form of asking permission ever
employed by Mrs. Boylan's children towards her. The wonder
was that they thought it worth while to keep up this poor pre¬
tence of consulting her as to their movements.
She sat now by the drop-light, in an easy-chair, a warm
shawl wrapped about her, and her feet on a cushion, reading
a purple-covered pamphlet, the vignette being a coarse wood¬
cut of a frantic female, brandishing a knife a foot and a half
long over a sleeping infant — the title, in staring capitals —
" Sinning Sybil, or the Blotted Book." Milk-and-water as
was her nature, nothing would serve her turn in literature but
the thrillingly tragic, the monstrously improbable. Perhaps
nothing else kept her awake. She absorbed, like a greedy
sponge, streams of such trash as is pronounced by stomachs of
a higher tone to be turbid and nauseous ; a slow poison, when
it ' does not act as an emetic. Her lymphatic temperament
prevented any unhappy effects of this diet upon her nerves,
nor was it ever intimated by the most slanderous, that her
morals suffered thereby, although intrigues, robberies, poison¬
ings, and suicides infested every page-
She looked up placidly, in the midst of a midnight adventure,
where the hero had just caught a glimpse, by a flash of light¬
ning, of the assassin's poiniard aimed at his heart.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
43
" "What did you say, Marian, love ? "
Mrs. Ainslie repeated her remark.
" Certainly, my dear, if you and she wish it, and Maggie
will wrap up warmly. It is very cold ! " And she slid back
into her romance.
" Anything special?" asked Tiny, in her sharp way.
" Yes. I want Maggie's company, and she is not averse to
mine," replied Marian.
" There is nothing uncommon in that, if one tries to believe
in the nonsensical parade of affection you keep up for one
another," retorted Tiny, breaking her sewing-silk with a jerk.
" It is all very pretty in company, but when one sees it every
day, it becomes sickening — actually disgusting Î "
" Come, Tiny ! don't fly into a passion because I happen to
love Maggie better than I do you. I can't help it, you know,"
said Marian, quietly.
" I don't ask you to help it ! Gracious knows, I wouldn't
have people fawning and flattering around me, as they do to
her, for any sum you could offer me. It is not in my line, I
am glad to say."
" As you remark, it does not appear to be in your line,"
answered Mrs. Ainslie. " But it is news to me that you re¬
joice in not being a belle. It shows how mistaken one can be.
I have imagined, hitherto, that you would like to be admired
and sought after. It is a comfort to me that I have learned
my error. I have wasted a vast amount of pity."
Tiny drew her breath and her thread very hard.
"You wall come early, will you not, Maggie dear? "said
Marian, taking up her cloak from the chair where she liad
dropped it. "I want a nice, long day."
" Another dinner-party, I suppose ? " said Tiny, unable to
keep her tongue still.
" P j no means ! or you would be invited too. I do mean
44
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
to give another some time, and leave Maggie out. It was too
unkind in her to eclipse you as she did last week. It was not
strange that you called my unpretending little entertainment
*a stupid failure.' "
Tiny nearly choked. One would have thought that the least
grain of common sense would have withheld her from these
perpetual tilting-matclies, in which she inevitably came off
second best ; but the peppery demon that possessed her small
body would not let her remain quiescent under defeat.
" And you hope to make the belle contented for an entire
day without a single beau, do you ? She is as cross as a bear
when she has to spend one evening at home and nobody drops
in."
" O Tiny ! " uttered Maggie, appealingly.
" Poor child ! " said Marian. " It must be hard to bear ! I
have had some experience of these dismal no-company nights.
Pa, asleep under the evening paper upon the lounge ; Ma,
hidden behind a purple or yellow cover ; Tiny, sulking and
drowsy, or counting the stitches in her embroidery — you can¬
not magnify the dolefulness of the picture. By the way, Tiny,
for wha.t favored admirer are those elegant slippers intended ? "
" That is no concern of yours that I can see ! " returned
Tiny, growing crosser each second.
" Certainly not, my dear. You are right there. I ought
not to have asked the question. A moment's reflection would
have showed me how difficult it would be for you to reply to an
inquiry thus worded. Good-night Ma. Say the same to Pa
for me when he awakes. Remember Maggie, darling, you are
to come over soon after breakfast."
Had Tiny surmised the true reason for this pressing invita¬
tion, she would have retired that night in a worse temper than
was provoked by Marian's sarcasms. The morrow was John
Cleveland's birthday, and Mrs, Ainslie having ascertained this
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
45
accidentally a week before, had made him promise to eat hig
anniversary dinner at her table. She and Maggie had each
prepared a present for him, as had also Tiny — with this dif¬
ference, theirs were manufactured by stealth, to be offered
openly — hers, the slippers she was finishing this evening, were
ostentatiously exhibited, while they were being wrought, and
destined to be sent by mail without the knowledge of any other
mortal besides herself and the honored recipient. Mrs. Ains-
lie's gift was a dressing-gown of superb pattern, beautifully
quilted and trimmed, and Maggie's a Turkish smoking-cap to
match.
John's gratification and surprise were an abundant recom¬
pense to the two latter donors for their efforts to please him.
" This is very kind — too kind ! " he said, over and over
again, trying to smile while his eyes were glistening. " You
will make me forget that I am a poor sisterless bachelor, living
in lodgings, with no one to provide for me these blessed —
falsely so-called minor comforts of life."
" Just what you ought to forget, old fellow ! " said Mr. Ains-
(ie, laying his arm across his shoulder. " While I have a home,
it is yours. And now to dinner, as one of the major comforts
of the inner man ! "
In this repast, John's tastes had been likewise consulted.
His favorite dishes were there, prepared in the finest style ;
Mr. and Mrs. Ainslie, whom he rightly counted among his best
friends, presided over the feast, and Maggie sat opposite to him.
No one but a perversely unreasonable and ungrateful man
could be otherwise than contented in the circumstances, and
Mr. Cleveland, who had a habit of looking on the bright side
of everything, felt and said that this was one of the sunniest
spots in his life. Maggie had donned a dress, for which he had
once expressed a liking, and this trifling instance of her regard
was not lost upon him. She was very joyous, very pretty, very
46
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
gentle — in his sight, the loveliest embodiment of a household
fairy he had ever beheld.
And when, after dinner, Will took him into the lawless sanc¬
tum, the library — forced him to assume the new gown and
cap, while he arrayed himself in similar habiliments, installed
him in a stuffed chair before the glowing grate, and produced
a couple of prime Havanas, while Maggie who " liked the odor
of a fine cigar," followed her sister into the room, and took a
low seat in the corner, just where the red firelight, and the soft
lustre of the shaded burner, above the centre-table, united in
showing her face and form to the fairest advantage, what was
there to hinder John from a bit of mental sketching, that kept
him silent with deep, deep happiness ?
What if this were truly a family party ? if he were receiving
his friends in his home, instead of being entertained by them,
and the mistress of that home were she who sat there beside
the hearth ? Would her air of cheerful content be lessened,
her fresh, sweet face be dimmer if the dream-picture were a
reality? He said to himself, even in the unspoken ecstasy
of his imaginings, that rather than bring a cloud over that dear
young head, he would leave his love to the last untold ; rather
than grieve that loving, innocent heart, he would himself give
her away at the altar to another. Maggie could have had no
more certain proof of the depth and disinterestedness of his
attachment than was brought out in these musings. He had
no mawkish melancholic sentiment in his composition. His
forte was not the romantic. Had Will and Marian been out
of the way, he would have desired no more auspicious time
and circumstances for the momentous declaration than this do¬
mestic nook and this birthday eve. Moonlight rambles and
poetic quotations were, as Tiny said of herself, in another
respect, "not in his line." He would have drawn his chair
closer to Maggie's, and taking her hand, told her how long and
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
47
well he had loved her, and asked for some assurance that he
had not loved and waited in vain. Then — and a quicker
pulse-throb brought before him the former picture — the pres¬
ent — had but the magic words of mutual love passed between
them, and a common blessing been uttered above them. Home !
wife ! peace ! Sweet synonyms that sum up the rapturous
emotions of many a satisfied heart !
" Ting-a-ling-ling ! "
"Mercy upon us!" said Marian, putting her hands to her
ears. " What an impetuous ring ! Show no one in here ! "
she called to the servant as she passed the library-door.
Maggie started up at the sound of a loud clear voice in the
hall.
" Oh, sister, it is Marie ! " '
Ere Mrs. Ainslie could reply, the door was thrown open by
that resolute damsel herself.
" Good-evening to you all ! I knew you were in here. I
smelt the cigars. I adore them ! Oh, how fragrant ! What
a snug coterie ! Maggie, my sweet child, how do you do ? "
kissing her.
" Take a seat near the fire, Miss Dupont ! " said Marian, not
very warmly, for she secretly resented the intrusion.
"Thank you ! but I have no time to stay. I have come on
an errand. It seems hard-hearted in me to break up this very
picturesque group, still 1 must possess myself of one of its
ornaments. Maggie, darling, I am here to demand you."
" Me ! " " Her ! " exclaimed Maggie and Mrs. Ainslie, in
a breath.
"You — my precious! Her — my dear Mrs. Ainslie! I
called at your father's, Maggie, and Ihey directed me to pursue
my search in this direction. You wrote me, the other day,
that you would run down to me for a night whenever I sent
for you. ft )t caring to trust any messenger, behold me, the
48
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
bearer of my own warrant for your arrest. Now, Mrs. Ainslie,
don't look grave and doubtful ! I am armed with the proper
credentials, having done the dutiful thing in asking the consent
of your excellent parents. It was given readily and uncon¬
ditionally, and Miss Tiny very kindly put up a morning-robe
and other needful articles in a valise, which I have outside in
the carnage. So, hurry, dear — there's a love ! "
Maggie stood motionless in a state of perplexed incertitude.
Marian's countenance expressed unqualified disapproval of the
proposed measure ; Will looked surprised and annoyed, while
John watched Maggie in anxious suspense. She did wish that
Mario had not called for her on this night, and here, but saw
no way of refusing without vexing her. She always enjoyed
her visits to the Duponts. It would be an act of self-denial to
decline this invitation, yet it was not John's birthnight, and
Marian counted upon her spending the entire evening with
her, and John would feel slighted and Will blame her—"I
wish I knew Avhat to do ! " she burst forth in distress.
" If you take my advice, you will stay where you are ! " said
Marian, positively.
" You are our guest for the night, and tve cannot excuse
you ! " added Mr. Ainslie. " You can go down to Mrs. Lv-
pont's with me in the nine o'clock train, to-morrow morning."
" Impossible ! " exclaimed Marie. " I have especial reasons
why I must have her without delay. My party comes off in
three days, and matters of vital importance respecting it are at
a stand-still for want of my prime counsellor. Dearest Mrs.
Ainslie, do not be inexorable ! You were a girl yourself only
the other day, and cannot have forgotten how girls feel, situated
as Maggie and I are."
This sort of talk would have propitiated Tiny, but Marian
was made of different stuff.
" Have you no escort, Miss Dupont ? " she inquired.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
49
" Only our coachman, who is the most trustworthy creature
living, and a safe driver," was the rejoinder, accompanied, John
fancied, by a sudden sly glance at Maggie, who did not ob¬
serve it.
"That may be, still it appears to me neither prudent nor
proper for two young ladies to drive three or four miles at
nine o'clock at night, with no attendant except a servant," said
Marian, decidedly as before.
" My dear madam, what an idea ! Why Thomas has been
in our family for ages, and is really a gentleman ! " Marie
stopped to laugh, perhaps at Mrs. Ainslie's prudery.
" Give yourself no uneasiness on that score, Mrs. Ainslie,''
interposed John, calmly. " If Miss Maggie decides to go, I
shall request Miss Dupont to give me a seat, also, to her
mother's door."
" Oh, I could not think of that ! " Marie commenced, with a
startled look. Then, as if another and a very amusing thought
had struck her, she broke into a peal of laughter. " I beg your
pardon ! " she said, when she could control her mirth — " but
it did seem such a preposterous plan ! However, if you insist
upon straining your gallantry so far, I will not forbid it,
although it is a pity you should be put to so much trouble.
Now, Maggie, make haste, dear ! We can thank Mr. Cleve¬
land on the way home, and we must not not keep him out late
"How will you get back?" asked Maggie of him, and still
hesitating.
" There is a train up at half-past ten, one down at eleven.
I can catch one or the other," he answered.
"Come back by all means!" said Mr. Ainslie. "We shall
oit up for you."
Maggie ran for her wrappings, and John, stepping into the
hall, resumed coat, hat, and boots, with very diverse feelings
from those with which he had laid them off.
5
50
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Mr. Ainslie handed Miss Dupont down the steps, and this
gave Maggie a chance to say tremblingly, almost tearfully —
"J am so sorry all this has happened, Mr. Cleveland. I wish
you would not go. I do nothing but annoy you, now-a-days."
" Please say no more about it. I much prefer going," he
replied, somewhat coldly. He could not help being disappointed
and hurt at this unforeseen close of his, fête.
It was a moonlight night, and the air was very keen. The
coachman walked up and down the semicircular drive in front
of the portico, stamping his feet and swinging his arms, to keep
himself warm.
" Thomas ! " called his mistress.
" Yes, ma'am ! "
" Open the carriage-door ! "
Maggie had John's arm, and he felt her start violently as the
man spoke — saw her cast a look in his direction, and then
drop her head while she trembled all over. But for her agita¬
tion, he would not have thought of noticing the fellow particu¬
larly, but he scanned him now narrowly. He was muffled in
a great coat, with many capes, and a fur collar hid the lower
part of his face. He stood holding the open door, in respectful
silence, while the ladies got in and seated themselves.
" Stop a moment ! this gentleman will escort us home ! "
said Marie, arresting his movement to shut them in.
The man wheeled sharply around, and met Mr. Cleveland's
full, fixed gaze.
" Close the door, sir ! " ordered the latter. " With your
permission, Miss Dupont, I will alter my mind. I see that
you do not require any further protection."
His manner hardly astonished Mr. Ainslie more than did
Miss Dupont's silence at this singular change of purpose.
Neither she nor Maggie uttered a syllable of inquiry or adieu.
The coachman mounted the box, and the carriage rolled away.
HUSBANDS AN© HOMES.
51
Marian had witnessed the departure from the hall door.
" I thought you were going with them ! " she said, as her
husband and John came up the steps.
" I did intend it."
John said no more until they were again in the library.
Then he stood, looking into the fire, for some moments.
" You saw who that fellow was, did you not ? " he said,
abruptly, to Mr. Ainslie.
" No ! what fellow ? "
"Miss Dupont's pretended coachman was that young Lor¬
raine ! "
" Impossible ! " ejaculated Marian.
" You must be mistaken John," said Will, seriously.
" I am not ! His height, walk, and voice were enough, if I
had not had a distinct view of his countenance, when he
wheeled about, as Miss Dupont told him that I was going. It
was lie, and no one else ! "
"I recollect how suddenly he turned, but attributed it to
surprise. This is a strange freak ! "
" An unladylike trick ! " said Mrs. Ainslie, indignantly.
" And she would have suffered you to take that cold ride rather
than tell the truth ! "
" You remember that she did oppose my going ; then gave
her consent, I imagine, with the idea that the excellence of the
joke would be enhanced if Lorraine and myself were Loth
victims."
" Fancy his having to drive the whole way without speaking
a word, for fear of betraying himself!" laughed Mr. Ainslie.
" This is no laughing matter, Will," 'said his wife. " It is
either a very witless, school-girlish plot, beneath the dignity of
a woman to practise, or there is something deeper in it than
we can see. Can it be possible that Maggie had any com¬
plicity in it ? "
52
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
John was silent. lie recalled the start that had awakened
his suspicions.
" I should be very angry if I believed that she knew in what
company she left the house," pursued Marian. "I have no
patience with such underhand proceedings."
" Come, come, you are taking this too seriously ! replied
her husband. "It was unquestionably a silly affair; but I do
not perceive the enormity of the transaction. It was rather poor
fun, I should think, yet if Miss Dupont and her beau enjoyed
it, why should we object? "
Neither of his auditors was inclined to dismiss the subject so
lightly. Marian dwelt upon the disrespect offered to them, and
was incensed that such means should have been used to obtain
possession of Maggie.
" If Miss Du pont's intention were to hoax her, the discovery
cannot but be very embarrassing to the poor child. Think of
her surprise when the supposed servant speaks to her! I should
be vexed enough to get out and walk back home by myself? "
" Maggie is not so touchy ! " returned Mr. Ainslie. " And it
is to be presumed that she is well enough acquainted with Miss
Marie's ways not to be frightened to death at the denouement.
Another cigar, John ! And, Marian, we will have a bowl of
punch to console us for the loss of our fireside fairy."
John was not consoled, however well he succeeded in pre¬
serving the outside show of equanimity. He was very angry
with Miss Dupont, and more so with her puppy of a lover,
while with regard to Maggie, he felt a degree of alarm, entirely
uncalled for by the seeming facts in the case. The thought of
deceit in connection with her conduct was utterly incompatible
with what he knew of her pure and artless nature. Her sur¬
prise at Marie's entrance and proposition was assuredly not
simulated and granting that she did see through Lorraine's
disguise at the moment of departure, consideration for her
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
53
friend's feelings would have restrained her from exposing him,
then and there. Nor was her silence, when he announced his
change of intention, to be set down to aught save the same un¬
selfish dread of annoying Marie, and the confusion which a
young, ingenuous girl would naturally feel in such a position.
He hoped and said as much, that Mrs. Ainslie would not chide
her sister for the folly of her associate, but he hoped as fer¬
vently, that which he did not say — viz : that she would not rest
until she unravelled the mystery which to his apprehension
hung around Maggie's intimacy with this gay, and, as he feared,
unscrupulous couple of lovers. Were they lovers ? What if
Marie's intense love of scheming, and the straining after dra¬
matic effect, which entered so largely into lier character and
actions, were leading her docile, unsophisticated companion into
more serious complications than such merry plots as that of this
evening !
His heart stood still at the thought. His dove — his own —•
his undefiled, by even a dream of evil — at the mercy of a
bold, designing woman, who made use of the ardent love she
had inspired in that guileless bosom for the furtherance of her
plans, whatever they might be ! He, too, would have a talk
with Maggie, and a decisive one. Where else could she find
such protection as in the acknowledged devotion of a true and
honest heart !
54
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
CHAPTER Y.
We will pass over the scene that ensued in the carriage,
when the trio recovered from the amazement produced by Mr.
Cleveland's unexpected adieu, and present ourselves in Misa
Dupont's private sitting-room, just as the little party gathered
around the fire, to talk over the matter already discussed at
some length in the course of their ride.
Maggie was paler than usual with excitement, and there was
a droop of the eyelids and an occasional quiver of the Up, that
showed a mind ill at ease. Marie drew her to a lounge, and
putting her arms around her, tried to reassure her.
" What if he does tell Will and Marian, and they think so
strange of it, little trembler ? You have but to state the truth
to clear yourself. Say that Marie was always a queer girl,
and wanted to play a harmless trick upon you, but that she
was very sorry when she found out that you were troubled
about it, and promised not to do the like again. What is
easier ? "
" Nothing, I suppose ; but what if they ask if I knew who
he was before I got into the carriage ? "
u Say 4 no ! ' " said Marie, boldly.
44 But would that be true?" objected Maggie, stealing a
glance at the face, whose owner she had designated by the ex¬
pressive personal pronoun.
That face was watching hers very intently just then, and its
look was the same that had given offence to John Cleveland's
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
55
nice notions of the respect due the beloved one, on the night
of Marine's debut. He smiled, as he caught the furtive light
OÖ 7 O O
of her eye. He was less handsome in this smile than when
his features were in repose, because it heightened the peculiar
effect of the curling upper lip, before mentioned. It was as if
the unpleasant savor he seemed ever inhaling, had suddenl}
grown stronger, when — to borrow Dickens' inimitable deserip«
tion of the like effect—"his moustache went up and his nose
came down." Yet he was, to a casual observer, a splendid-
looking man, tall, well-made, with dark eyes, a full, silky beard,
and a Romanesque nose. Marie had repeatedly declared to
Maggie that he was lier beau ideal of manly perfection and
beauty, and she, simple, trusting soul, endorsed the report of
his mental and spiritual worth, as freely as she did that of his
physical charms, and believed devoutly in both.
lie abandoned his station by the mantel at her wordless
appeal, and pushing an ottoman towards her, sat down at her
feet.
" Why would it be untrue ?" he asked, insinuatingly. " You
cannot be said to know a thing that you are not sure of. You
had your suspicions that Thomas would be Thomas no longer,
when he took off his new great coat, but what proof had you
of my identity, besides this vague impression ? I contend that
you would commit a grave error wmre you to say anything of
so slight a surmise, when you are questioned about our innocent
frolic. There is no reason why you should get yourself into
needless trouble."
"You see, my darling," resumed Marie, "Albert came un¬
expectedly in the six o'clock train. He wrote to me this morn¬
ing, inclosing a note for you, saying that he would be up to¬
night, and asking me to have you here. But this did not
arrive until an hour after he did. So, mamma having gone to
spend the night in New York, and taken the boj s with her, I
56
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
bad no cbaperone or escort to watch over me in my moonlight
jaunt, unless I had chosen to keep the baby out of bed, and
run the risk of croup, cough, and crossness. Themas was out
of the way too. He always is when I want him. W hat else
could we do, unless we had broken our hearts by doing without
you ? "
" Perhaps she thinks that would have been the best arrange¬
ment," said Lorraine, artfully.
" You know better than that ! " said Maggie, in ingenuous
haste. " But, I think Marian would have let me come more
readily if she had known who your protector was. I do not
see what objection she would have had, for she believes that
you two are — " she stopped, covered with blushes.
"Yes —• of course ! " nodded Marie. " She thinks just what
we meant she should, until we are ready to undeceive her.
Why call her attention to Albert's frequent companionship with
yourself more than is necessary ? And your god-father, my
dear ! that unselfish adopted brother of yours, what would he
have said to your moonlight flitting?"
" Indeed, dear Marie, you are greatly mistaken as to Mr.
Cleveland's feelings for me ! " rejoined Maggie, eagerly. " He
is a friend —- a brotherly friend — nothing more, I do assure
you ! "
" Nous verrons ! For the nonce, he is useful to us. Now,
as I can guess how unwelcome I am here, I shall betake my¬
self to the parlor to write a letter. See here, my pet ! " She
drew a foreign-looking missive from her pocket, and partially
unfolded the large, thin sheets. " You are not the only happy
ones to-night."
" O, delightful ! " exclaimed Maggie, clapping her hands
" When did it come ? "
" Albert brought it up, like the good brother he is."
" Is he well ? "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
57
Ci Ye: y well in body ; — très malheureux et très fidèle, selon
les régies ! " said Marie, without a blush, and evidently think¬
ing that the foreign phrase was a very modest veil for commu¬
nications upon so delicate a subject. And she danced out sing¬
ing, " Toujours fidèle ! Toujours fidèle ! "
Uncomfortable as John Cleveland's reveries were after Mag¬
gie's abduction, they were cheerful in comparison with the
horror that would have seized him, could he have looked into
Miss Dupont's boudoir that night. Maggie's hand lay confi¬
dingly in Lorraine's, while his arm encircled her waist ; love
words fell fast and low from his lips, and no utterance of hers
reproved his freedom. Why should she shrink from, or repel
her betrothed lover ?
This was a romance of Marie's manufacture. Affianced
herself to an elder Lorraine, who was now abroad, she desired
that her " twin soul," as she was fond of styling Maggie, should
know similar felicity. Who more likely to effect this end than
her Clement's brother?" Albert was nothing loath when he
had once seen his predestined inamorata. From thinking of
the benefit to accrue to him from an alliance with the daughter
of a wealthy man, he soon came to love the gentle, pretty crea¬
ture thrown sedulously in his way ; — a love far inferior in
quality to the depth and singleness of Cleveland's devotion, but
as exalted a sentiment as he was capable of feeling. The two
men were opposites in grain and in culture. Beneath John's
ready smile and merry word there were solidity of thought,
uncorruptible principle, and true, inborn refinement, while
Lorraine's volubility, a heritage from his French father, cov¬
ered, sometimes well, sometimes miserably, a shallow, ill-worked
mind, as did his gallant and fine sayings, inherent and ineradi
cable selfishness.
Maggie was hardly to blame that her womanly instinct erred
in her estimate of her suitor. Marie's influence over her was
58
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
not merely the ascendancy of a strong over a pliant will ; it
was the authority of a clever mistress over a loving flavo.
While Mr. Boylan delved in his counting-house, and his wife
dozed, read novels, and bemoaned her petty griefs at home ;
while Tiny held fidgety sway in her domain, and Marian ruled
with a milder hand in hers, the youngling of the flock was
helped by Marie's mother wit to cheat and evade teachers in
class hours, and walked, ate, and slept with her during the rest
of the twenty-four. She spent more holidays and Sabbaths at
Mrs. Dupont's than in her own home, and no one vetoed the
arrangement. Tiny's jealousy of her growth in stature and
beauty made her presence at her father's irksome to both sis¬
ters, and while Marian regretted that this was so, she could not
chide Maggie for preferring Marie's society. Albert Lorraine
was always in attendance on these fête days, and nobody asked
wherefore this should not be. Mrs. Dupont had her friends,
and her daughter had hers, and tliey were best pleased when
the house was full of a giddy crowd of pleasure-seekers, wdiose
chief object in existence was the enjoyment of the passing
hour.
It was impossible that an impressible girl should retain, in
this atmosphere, that rectitude of intention with respect to the
right and the wrong, that nicety of discrimination between the
true and the false, which is requisite to guide her safely through
the labyrinths of fashionable life. Marie's pupil charmed her
instructress by her proficiency in dissimulation after her ac¬
quaintance with Lorraine had arrived at a certain stage, the
interesting turning-point between mutual and evident admira¬
tion, and a more absorbing, but more shy emotion. " Maggie
never could hide anything in her life," was a proverb in her
home, and the faith of her family in its truth was never stronger
than when she wore what was supposed to be a present from
Marie, but was, in reality, the publicly displayed pledge of a
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
5f;
secret betrothal. But why secret? Because Marie so willed
it, and Marie knew best what was to be done for her in this, as
in everything else, because Albert seconded Marie, and Albert
was infallible, thought Maggie. Because it was so delightfully
romantic, and had the enchanting smack of mystery that she
relished ; because it was grand fun to carry the matter on
without being suspected by a soul beyoi¿d their little circle, and
the denouement would be splendid ! thought Marie, gleefully.
All women love the post of privy-counsellor and manager-gen¬
eral. With her, this liking was a passion. Because it was
sound wisdom to secure the young bird before trying to ensnare
the old one, and Mr. Boylan was a very sly old bird, one whose
investigations and calculations were likely to be unpleasantly
close. It was not every fellow whose everyday life could bear
such an airing as must be undergone by any one who offered
to become his son-in-law. The thing must be confessed at last,
but where was the hurry ? This was a much more agreeable
fashion of love-making than a hum-drum courtship, prosecuted
under the prying eyes and vixenish nose of that fussy old maid
sister. And when it should " come out," what a sensation the
news would create ! how the girls would envy her, and the men
hate him for having so cunningly stolen a march upon them !
Thus Lorraine had secretly reasoned hitherto, but there were
certain grave reasons now why he should alter his policy. Fast
horses, champagne suppers, and cards, the luxuries enumerated
by Mr. Carvell, as those to which the gay youth did most seri¬
ously incline, could not be kept up on only a " fair salary," and
creditors began to encroach upon his pleasures. The prestige
of an engagement with the daughter of a rich merchant would
keep these troublesome creatures at bay until he could " raise
the wind." It was an agreeable way to get out of his difficul¬
ties, this marrying the girl he worshipped. This was not ex¬
actly the way he stated his case to Maggie, however.
60
HUSBANDS AND HOMES,
" You see, my angel, I am growing very impatient, not so
much of concealment, but of the necessity for it. I cannot
live without you much longer. You are now nineteen years
old. Mrs. Ainslie was but twenty when she married. Why
should I not ask your father to make me as happy as he did
your brother-in-law ? a thousand times more happy, indeed, for
what is Marian compared with my precious girl? I am miser¬
able without you. I only live in your presence. Why may I
not enjoy it always ? "
Maggie hid her face upon the arm of the sofa.
" No, no ! " she murmured, while a shiver ran over her, born
of what strange presentiment, of what inward recoil, she could
not tell.
Lorraine frowned — a look it was as well she did not see.
" No ! and why not? " he asked, in a soft voice, that had no
kinship with the language of his eye. " You fear lest you
would weary of me, then, if I were continually near you ? "
Her reply was to place her hand within his.
"Perhaps, then, you dread a refusal from your father? I
acknowledge that I do not deserve you, Maggie. No man living
ever can."
" on are too good for me ! " returned she, half audibly.
" Your father may differ from you as to this. How then ? "
" He will like you. How could it be otherwise ? " Maggie
raised her head to say earnestly. " He is irritable and often
stern. I am afraid of him, but you need never be. I have
heard Marian say that he was very kind and just to Will when
he J roposed for her."
" Kind and just ! That means came down pretty handsomely
with the rhino, I hope ! " thought Lorraine. " What is your
objection, then ? " he inquired, yet more tenderly.
Again Maggie shook with that unaccountable, nameless fear,
and her eyes dilated as at the approach of some startling appa¬
rition.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
61
" I don't know ; I am nervous, I suppose. We are so happy
now that I dread any change ! " she faltered.
Lorraine arose loftily. " Which dread I am to construe into
a disinclination ever to become my wife ! " he said, freezingly ;
then, turning from her, apparently to conceal his emotion, he
added in a changed tone : " And this is the end of all my hopes !
I had not looked for coquetry from you, Maggie ! "
" The end ! " Maggie seized his hand. " Oh, Albert ! how
can you misunderstand me so crqelly ? Can you suspect me
of trifling ? Me ! "
She sobbed as though her heart were broken.
Lorraine had gained the day. Pie felt this, as he took the
frightened, weeping child into his arms, and soothed her with
renewed protestations of love and trust. Marie perceived it
upon her return to the apartment, and, well pleased at her ally's
victory, informed him, gayly, that it was past midnight, and
that Maggie's roses must be saved for the approaching ball.
When the girls were in their chamber, Miss Dupont listened
to the story of the arrangements that awaited her sanction.
Lorraine was to call upon Mr. Boylan the day succeeding the
party, and formally request his permission to address his daugh¬
ter.
■' I begged him not to do it before that time," said Maggie.
" It would be embarrassing to appear in company immediately
after the announcement. People will be talking about us, you
know, and then, to speak frankly, Marie, I think Tiny will be
vexed when she hears it, and that would spoil the pleasure of
my evening and hers too."
" A very good idea ! Just as it should be ! " responded Ma¬
rie. " And, for pity's sake, don't have a long engagement.
They are forlorn affairs when they are public. Plow much
attention would I receive in society if it were believed that I
was fiancée ? When poor, dear Clement addressed me, P stip»
6
62
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
ulated that the affair should be kept a profound secret until hia
return. As to the blind which Albert's attentions throw over
the state of my affections, it is so flimsy as scarcely to discour¬
age the most faint-hearted of my other beaux. Any one who
is at all knowing in les affaires du cœur must see that it is only
a Platonic attachment on both sides. And your trousseau, my
dearest! What fun we shall have in preparing it! Don't
trust Tiny to superintend your shopping. Let Marian or my¬
self do it. We will take mqre interest in making you charm¬
ing. Albert has exquisite taste, and his bride must not disap¬
point him."
Maggie had ceased the duties of her toilet, and sunk down
into a chair, her unbound hair streaming over her white dress¬
ing-gown, her eyes fixed on the fire. The brightness had all
gone from her face, and a haggard expression had followed
upon the spent excitement. She looked worn-out, anxious,
unhappy — a sad sight in one who had just decided upon so
important a move in life.
While Marie talked on of milliners, merchants, and mantua
makers, the thoughts of the other were roving far wide of such
dissertations. Why should the scene she had quitted hours
before, for the society of her lover, arise before lier now in such
distinctness and beauty ? What meant the indefinable longing
with which she turned to it —calm, restful, full of holy affec¬
tion — after the hot, passionate atmosphere that had surrounded
her since she had parted from the pleasant family group i
What was the dull aching, far down in her heart, as she though;
of saying " Farewell " to John, the steadfast friend of her giri
hood? She had divined something of his prejudice against
Lorraine ; she knew that Albert returned the feeling with
interest, that his wife would not be likely to meet his suppose J
rival, except as a common acquaintance. Why was it so hard
to reconcile herself to the thought of this separation ? She
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
63
coulcl not endure to picture John's approach to her without the
lighted eye, the beaming smile, the outstretched hand, and the
deep, sweet voice, that made his simple "Maggie!'' a more
heartfelt greeting, a more earnest assurance of his interest in
her than the most lavish professions from other tongues.
And Marian ! Maggie liad never realized before lier belief
in Marie's representations of Mrs. Ainslie's designs for her
best-loved sister. She had repelled, laughingly or seriously,
as the occasion required, Miss Dupont's intimations of Mr.
Cleveland's sentiments with regard to his whilom playfellow,
and the favor that these met with in the eyes of his partner's
wife.
"Marian likes him, just as I do. She never dreams of
bringing about a match between us. She would be very angry
if she knew that such motives were imputed to her," she had
said so often and so earnestly as to delude herself into the con¬
viction of her own sincerity. She said it inwardly, now, but
very faintly, and derived no comfort from the reflection. What
if Will and Marian were alienated by the disclosure of her
attachment to Albert ? Would she have to resign them also ?
And Tiny would be mortally offended at her presumption in
daring to be engaged before herself, and her mother would cry
all day.
" Ileigho ! "
" What a sigh ! and what a distressed countenance ! " cried
Marie, with a shriek of laughter that made Maggie jump as if
a pistol had been fired at her ear. " One would think that tlis
child were going to be buried, instead of married ! "
Maggie burst into a flood of hysterical tears.
" I wish I were ! O, Marie ! I am afraid ! I am afraid ! "
64
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
CHAPTER VL
" I have brought John back with me," said Mr. Ainslie to
his wife, the next evening.
Marian was preparing a salad in the dining-room, whither
her husband had come to seek her.
" I am glad to hear it ! " she said, sincerely. " He is always
welcome —- never makes any difference in my arrangements.
How did you prevail upon him to deviate so far from his fixed
principles as to visit us upon two successive days ? "
" Why, the truth is, the poor fellow has been unusually de¬
pressed to-day. He tried not to show it, pretended he had a
headache from drinking that punch last night, that would not
have hurt a fly, but I saw through it all. I told him the quiet
and purer air of the country would cure him, and in spite of
a desperate show of resistance on his part, I brought him along
I tell you what, Marian, he is pretty far gone Î Can't I recog¬
nize the signs ? "
Mr. Ainslie emphasized these observations by a kiss, be¬
stowed with unwonted gusto, born of the awakened memories
of the days when the familiar symptoms possessed him also.
Marian smiled wisely, and went on with her work, Will stand¬
ing by and watching the interesting process.
" Will Maggie drop in this evening, do you think ? " he in
quired.
" I hope so, unless the saucy minx is afraid to face me aftet
the escapade of last night."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
65
" Better not scold her ! " advised Will. " She is a timid,
tender-hearted little thing, and loves you very dearly. I don't
believe she ever had a thought she was not willing you should
share."
" Maggie is affectionate and frank ; there is no doubt about
that," said Marian. " She would be safer in the world if she
had more force of character, and the power, if not the disposi¬
tion, to hide her feelings, but she is a sweet child, and I have
no wish to scold her. She gets enough of that at home."
" The more reason why she should marry John ! ( Don't
you think a trifle more oil would be an improvement ?) His
wife will never have cause to complain of his harshness or
stubbornness. (Hot too much Cayenne, lovey ! John has a
tender mouth.)"
" Did that last observation refer to his eating my salad, or
his obedience to the wifely curb ? " asked Marian.
"To both, if you choose. He dreads pepper and temper
alike. That is why Tiny never caught him. That reminds
me ! —did I ever tell you that when he comes home with me,
we always take the back street, to avoid her look-out from the
parlor windows ? She scrutinizes every man that passes that
way from the depot. If there is anything that makes me
nervous, it is to have her pop in while lie it here."
" Am I not a troublesome visitor ? " said John, as his hostess
extended her hand in welcome.
" Only when you apologize for giving us pleasure," she
answered, frankly as gracefully.
She had that rare virtue in a wife, of viewing her husband's
friends as her own. In consideration of this, and a hundred
other excellent traits, John was willing to overlook her satirical
tendencies and very decided fondness for assuming the rule
wherever she had a semblance of right to do so. She made
Will very happy, and his home more than comfortable for,him
6*
G6
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
and his associates, and she was the sister preferred by Maggie,
therefore John loved her almost as well as if she were his sister
also.
The new dressing-gown and cap had not been sent to the city
yet, and the three adjourned to the smoking-room after dinner,
for a repetition of the previous night's performances. All
thought of the figure that was missing from the corner ottoman
o o
but no one spoke of her, unless a sigh that escaped John's lips,
with the first whiff of smoke, were an unsyllabled lament over
departed joys. It was hardly lost in air, when a rosy face
peeped in at the door.
" Is there admittance for a runaway, Marian, dear ? I have
come for my lecture."
" Come in ! " called Will. " I will stand between you and
her, if she is inclined to be cross."
She advanced quite into the room before she perceived Mr
Cleveland. Then the blood poured over her cheeks and brow
and she paused as if meditating a retreat.
" I did not know that you were here ! "
Marian exchanged a swift, triumphant glance with her hus¬
band.
" Why should he not be where you left him ? " she said.
" We have only to imagine that Miss Dupont's call and kidnap¬
ping exploit were an unpleasant dream, and we shall be as
merry as we meant to be last evening."
Maggie changed color. She was busied in untying her hood
and taking off her shawl, but John thought he detected a twinge
o / «o O
of painful emotion about the mouth. She was silent for a
minute, until her wrappings were unfolded and laid on a table,
at the back of the room. Was there a fleeting wish, clear as
transient, that all that had passed last night, after she left them,
were indeed a dream ? She did not ponder this question. She
was playing a part, and her rôle must not be marred by- dan«
gerous meditations.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
67
Instead of accepting the chair offered by her brother-in-law,
she sat down upon Marian's foot-cushion, and crossed her arms
upon her sister's lap in mock penitence.
" If you please, madam, I am sorry I was naughty last
night ! "
" Not very naughty ! " Marian caressed the pretty head
resting against her knee. " It was not your fault, and we were
more disappointed than angry. Only, dear " — she felt that
she must warn the inexperienced child — "I do not admire
Miss Dupont so much as I could wish, since she is so dear to
you. She is too loud and self-willed to suit my taste ; too
much her own mistress, and disposed to domineer over others
for so young a lady."
Maggie was troubled. "Marie means well, sister. It is
oO '
only her way. She is very kind and good, and I can't help
living her."
" Love her as much as you choose," interposed Will. " But
don't grow to be like her."
" Preposterous ! " ejaculated John, filliping his cigar, im¬
patiently. " As if she ever could ! "
Maggie tried to smile. "You mean to be complimentary, I
suppose, Mr. Cleveland, and I thank you for your good opinion
of me, but in my eyes, Marie is almost perfection, and I regret
more than I can express, the dislike that you have all conceived
for her."
" True to your colors ! That's a brave girl ! Stand up for
your friends, right or wrong Î " said Will, in his character as
Maggie's backer.
" But our best friends have faults," responded Marian, " and
you must confess, dear Maggie, that it was neither friendly nor
ladylike in Miss Dupont to play such a trick upon you as
dressing her lover in her coachman's livery, and enficing you
to accompany her, and me to permit you to go, by representa'
68
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
tions of 'Thomas' ' respectability ! Whatever liberty she may
choose to take with you, her terms of intimacy with Mr. Ains-
lie and myself do not justify her in attempting practical jesta
with us."
"Keep cool!" suggested Will. " Fair and easy! Don't
crowd on steam upon a down grade ! "
" I don't mean to be harsh or uncharitable, darling ! " Ma¬
rian, warm-tempered, but warm-hearted, checked herself and
went on more mildly. " You know that I would not vex you
wilfully, nor do I hold you accountable for your companions'
imprudence or folly. After all, as John intimates, there is no
danger of their doing you any harm."
Now John never intended to imply any such thing. That
Maggie could grow into a counterpart of Miss Dupont, he did
not believe ; that she might sustain much and serious injury
by her intercourse with this wild girl, he greatly feared. But
this was not the time for him to speak. He saw that Maggie
was already wounded to the quick. The grieved, not sulky
pout of her red lip, her downcast eyes and varying complexion,
were a pretty and touching sight. He could not have put the
next question that fell from Marian, although his anxiety to
hear the reply exceeded hers.
" Did you know that Mr. Lorraine was Miss Dupont's driver
before you got into the carriage ? "
Maggie hesitated. It was not an easy thing for her to equiv¬
ocate, much less tell a direct untruth, when removed from
Marie's eye and guidance. She had expected this query, and
as we have seen, been prepared for it by her Jesuitical instruc¬
tors ; but still her tongue was slow to frame the words her
mind had ready. Involuntarily she glanced at John. His
eyes were fastened upon her : his countenance eager, expec¬
tant, apprehensive. With womanly quickness she recalled the
searching look he had shot at the supposed coachman, at the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
69
sound of the voice that had drawn her attention to him, and
considered the probability that her agitation had not passed
unnoticed.
She spoke very slowly, trying to master the confusion that
was beginning to becloud her wits. " I had no suspicion of
anything wrong until I heard him speak. Then I was sur¬
prised, for I know Thomas' voice well, and thought that this
was not he. After we started, Marie told me how she had
hoaxed us. I was sadly troubled, for I foresaw how displeased
you all would be. She apologized, upon seeing how badly I
felt, and begged me to assure yowpflr you were offended, that
she only intended a harmless jest."
" Tried by a council of pèêrs, and honorably acquitted ! "
said Will.
"One more question !" resumed Marian, somewhat curiously.
" What did Mr. Lorraine, the usurper of honest Thomas' dig¬
nities and overcoat, say about his part in this refined species
of amusement ? "
" All that a gentleman could do ! " answered Maggie, with
unwonted spirit. Her eyes sparkled, her cheek burned, and
she arose to her feet. " Is my cross-examination ended ? "
" There, there ! Marian ; you are making a mountain out
of a mole-hill, as I told you last night ! " Will interfered.
" Let the matter rest. It is all right, Maggie ! So long as
the man don't break your neck, we have no cause of complaint
against him."
" I have no further inquiries to make," said Marian, drily.
" It is a consolation to hear, since Maggie is obliged to associate
with him, that Mr. Lorraine is a gentleman. I confess that I
had misgivings upon the subject. He has, to me, more the air
of a chevalier d' industrie."
It was very seldom that Mrs. Ainslie assumed this tone in
addressing Maggie, and John was indignant that she did so now,
70
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
while he silently assented to lier judgment of the "gentleman "
under debate. His displeasure was quickly forgotten in admi¬
ration of the manner of the younger sister beneath the sarcasm.
For one second, she quivered — literally swayed and shook,
like a leaf in a storm— lier head dropped, and her hands sought
each other, in a tight, straining clasp. Then, she raised her
face and forced a smile, while the tears gathered large and
bright, ready to fall.
" Marian ! " said her husband, in surprise. " You forgot
that you are addressing tMs innocent child ! She does not
mean anything unkind to 7K1, Maggie."
" I know it. She would not hurt my feelings any sooner
than I would hers," she replicd^weetly, brushing off the cling¬
ing draps from her lashes. " We have never quarrelled yet,
and we will not begin now, May, dear, will Ave ? I was cross
myself, or she Avould not have answered me as she did. For¬
give and forget ! "
She stooped over and kissed her sister's willing lips, and
peace Avas restored outAvardly at least.
" She is an angel ! " thought Cleveland, enthusiastically.
"There is not another like her in the universe! "
Truly Maggie had exercised Avhat was in her an almost
miraculous degree of self-control and magnanimity, in seeming
to overlook and pardon this hasty and injudicious remark.
We say " seeming," since her studiously-acquired art of dis¬
simulation had some part in her conduct. To refute the as¬
persion cast upon Albert's character, would have been to avoAV
intimate acquaintance with his antecedents and habits of life ;
to resent it, might reveal a keener smart than she had a right
to feel from this thrust at a friend's friend. To propitiate
Marian Avas indispensable, Avhether her engagement remained
secret, or was soon avowed. Marie's parting advice Avas, that
this coadjutor should be secured at all hazards. Therefoi-e,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
71
far as the repentant sister was from imagining it, there was
hypocrisy in the kiss of reconciliation she received, burning,
bitter thoughts hidden behind the blushing, tearful face that
bowed over her, as the token of amity was exchanged.
" Not another like her in creation ! " repeated John, inwardly.
" How far superior to both of her sisters ! "
The front door was opened and closed, and a pair of high
heels clicked along the liall-floor — a patter, not unlike the
scamper of a cat shod with walnut shells. Will arose aghast ;
Marian sighed, not in audibly. JolmMirew his cigar into the
grate and gave a wistful, hopeless lodf at a bay-window, as if
seeking a hiding-place.
" Not a word to Tiny abo'ff this — please ! " Maggie had
just time to say, in a terrified, imploring tone, when the
diminutive Terror appeared.
" Ah ! I have found you, have I, truant ? " she began, affec¬
tionately jocular, appearing to see Maggie only.
"Yes, madam, here I am quite at your service Î " said Mr.
Cleveland, audaciously impertinent, making a low bow.
Tiny uttered a charming little scream, and put both hands
to her face in dire confusion.
" Mercy ! Mr. Cleveland, you have frightened me nearly to
death ! Who would have thought of seeing you here ? "
" I cannot say, indeed, unless you did ! " rejoined he, wick¬
edly, and Tiny little thought how sincerely.
" Not I ! I came to hunt up this naughty child, who ran off
without giving me a hint of her intentions, and left me with 110
company besides my own meditations."
" And that they were not agreeable, we are to judge from
your appearance here," John went on, more from the force of
habit and the feeling that he must be talking, than from any
propensity to badinage. "We are debtors to those same am
noying reflections. Your pain has been our gain."
72
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Tiny tossed her head gratifiedly, and put up one nicely-
fitting gaiter on the fender, to warm or to show the foot it cov¬
ered. She was especially vain of her hands and feet, and was
forever devising ways and means of exhibiting them. Maggie
had retired into the back-ground, and sat demurely thinking
her own thoughts.
" Why does Mr. Cleveland flatter Tiny ? He never runs
on in that strain to me," she had c^nce said to Marian.
" No ; because he respects you, and nobody that knows her
can respect Tiny," was the reply.
It came back to MaggÄ'Wow, and brought with it a sense of
shame and humiliation.
"Would he, could he respect me if he knew all! " she
asked herself. " Oh, if it were over, and I could see what was
before me ! "
" I ran over to consult you, Marian," Tiny continued, with
a plausible show of probability " about my preparations about
Marie Dupont's party. " Are you going? "
" No."
" No ? who is to chaperone us if you decline the office ? "
"I cannot say, I am sure, unless Ma will undertake the
task."
" That would be a resurrection indeed ! Poor, dear mamma
would expire at the thought of so much exertion. Why do
you stay away ? • You are so fond of going out, and this is to
be the most brilliant affair of the season, I understand. Marie
is Maggie's best friend, too Î She wall think it odd if you are
not there."
Tiny said all this in the smoothest of coaxing tones, a sort
of affected purr, that acted uncomfortably upon the mental
diaphragms of those who were familiar with her out-of-company
moods.
" I suppose, moreover, that it will not be many months
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
73
before Miss Dupont retires to the seclusion of wedded life," she
continued, bent upon being entertaining. " Mr. Lorraine is
the soul of devotion. What a handsome couple they will be !
I presume there is no doubt about their being engaged. How
is it, Maggie ? "
Maggie gave a start as from a profound reverie.
" What did you say ? " she stammered, entirely at a loss
how to reply.
" Why, you arc dreaming, surely ! I asked you if Marie
Dupont were engaged to Mr. Lorraine."
The answer was withheld until all eyes wrere turned won-
deringly upon the confused girl. Her presence of mind had
completely forsaken her. She had been sorely tried by the
conversation that preceded Tiny's entrance, and ere her cheeks
had cooled, or her heart ceased its alarmed tremor, this direct
question put her returning composure to flight. Without a
thought of the after consequences of such a response — only
dreading lest her trepidation might provoke further investi¬
gation and lead to premature discovery — she said, hastily,
but with tolerable firmness, "Yes, — that is, I believe that
she is."
" I did not say to Albert Lorraine ! " she excused herself in
her own mind, at the exclamation of conscience against this
falsehood. It was a quibble worthy of Marie's acholar, and a
part of its punishment was not slow. " In three days they will
all know that you have told a deliberate untruth ! " said Con¬
science, sternly. " Will this miserable plea clear you in their
eyes ? "
John saw her growing distress, and attributed it to a different
cause.
" It is unfair to put you -to so severe a test of your discre¬
tion," lie said, gayly. " These pretty little stories are usually
committed to the keeping of some fifty intimate friends, each
7
74
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
of whom is sworn to secrecy until the moment of general dis«
closure arrives. Like the plot of a novel, the secret, techni¬
cally so-called, may be guessed by the shrewd reader of the
opening chapter, but he is expected to keep his suspicions to
himself, and be properly thrilled when the dénouement is an¬
nounced. Is it not so with Love's mysteries, Miss Tiny ? "
Maggie was grateful for the diversion of notice from herself;
Tiny tickled by the very frail straw of his appeal to her upon
this interesting subject. Such straws, she wisely argued,
showed which way the wind blew, and to the faintest zephyr
from the Enchanted Land where Hymen reigned, the vane of
her imagination turned alluringly.
The hour that followed was filled up with cheerful chat, all
joining in with a show of mirth, Mr. Cleveland leading in gen¬
uine lightness of heart. Still, intermingled with his glee, there
was a kindliness of tone, a softened gleam in his eye, that be¬
spoke the rule of some deeper, gentler emotion than that called
forth by the hilarious converse in which he was a participant.
Tiny manoeuvred carefully, but vainly, to make him wait upon
her home. He put her shawl upon her shoulders as she re¬
quested ; picked up the gloves, then the rigolette she let fall
at his feet, and while she was drawing on the former, he stepped
across to where Maggie stood, close beside Mr. Ainslie, and
invited her to take his arm.
Will had a thankless duty to perform in escorting his fair,
elder sister to the paternal abode. Her heels clattered upon
the sidewalk with a decided ring that betrayed the spiteful,
slighted woman ; her head oscillated like that of a fretful colt
under a curb, and after the tart monosyllable that noticed his
observation upon the beauty of the night, neither spoke until
they were at the gâte of Mr. Boylan's garden.
" What a lazy wralker Maggie is ! " snapped Tiny then, send¬
ing a jealous gleam of her gray eyes down the street to where
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
75
the flood of moonlight showed two forms slowly approaching
the goal she had reached.
" I am much mistaken if Cleveland is not the laggard," re¬
turned Will, taking out a match and a cigar.
" He can walk fast enough when he likes," said Tiny crossly.
" You were both in such haste this afternoon, that you had not
¡the politeness to stay and help me out of the cars."
" I did not know that you were on the train. Piad you been
down to the city ? "
" Yes, and was tired to death ! I called you as loud as I
could. I wanted your arm up the hill."
" I did not hear you. It was a pity ! "
" Oh, I could not expect you to have eyes or ears for me /
If it had been Maggie, neither of you would have been so
blind or deaf."
Will lighted his cigar in prudent silence, cogitating upon
this one signal failure of his back street stratagem, and amused
at the idea of what Tiny's sensations would be when she called
to mind the discrepancy between the statement she had just
made and her extravagant display of surprise at finding Mr.
Cleveland in her sister's library.
" A nut for Marian to crack ! " he thought, and then resolved
upon the self-denial of keeping it from her. "The fact is,
those girls quarrel too much now. Tiny is a vixen, but worry¬
ing does not improve her temper."
All this time John and his companion were walking slowly
homewards in the bright moonlight. Not many words had
passed between them, but these few were full of meaning.
" Have I said anything to wound you to-night?" John in¬
quired, when they were fairly in the street.
" No, nothing ! "
Then came a pause.
WI wish I could tell you, Maggie, how fervently I desire
78
HUSBANDS AND TIO MES.
your happiness — how precious in ray sight is your peace oí
mind, present and future."
" Thank you ! You are a true friend."
" I am not ! " exclaimed John, impetuously. " It is a cold
word ! I may be presumptuous ; but I am no longer satisfied
with the name and place of ' friend.' For years I have longed
for the hour when I could throw off this disguise, and confess
to you the stronger, warmer feeling that fills my heart."
" Please don't ! " Maggie's hand fell from his arm, and she
drew back in alarm. " Don't speak to me in that way ! I
mean, don't say anything more until — I am not prepared to
answer — Avait awhile and I will " — her voice died away.
" Wait ! " repeated John, joyfully. "As long as you bid me,
dear Maggie ! I love you too truly to disturb you by wring¬
ing a reply from you in your surprise and agitation at my un¬
expected avoAval. I only ask that you will think upon what I
have said, and, some time, Avhen you can listen more quietly,
allow me to speak to you again upon this subject. My affec¬
tion is not the hasty growth of a day, that it cannot endure a
brief period of suspense. You will hear me at another time,
will you not ? "
Maggie's heart beat so violently that she could not articulate.
She bowed her head, too sick and dizzy to know what the
gesture implied. John returned her hand to its resting-place,
and felt a thrill of rapture, as she clung unconsciously to him.
She needed the support, and with it, tottered rather than walked
by his side, until they joined the impatient Tiny and her phil¬
osophically cool brother-in-latv. This coolness enabled him to
detect something unusual in the manner of the belated pedes¬
trians, and he hurried the leavetakings so officiously that John
could only press Maggie's fingers as he released them, with¬
out a spoken Avord, and bow to Tiny, before he was dragged
away.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
7?
" Well, I must say " — began Tiny, as she shut and locked
the door after her.
If the strong necessity of speech was upon her, it is likely
that she obeyed the promptings and had her " say" out. But
it was in soliloquy, not merely unheard, but uncared for by
Maggie. With a fleet but unsteady step she glided up the
staircase, reached her room, made fast the entrance, and threw
herself, face downwards, upon the bed —a frightened, helpless
child, whose unthinking touch had set in motion machinery,
the rush and whirl of which bore down her puny will, and
threatened to destroy reason and happiness.
"I cannot be false to Albert! Yet John thinks that I have
encouraged him. I dare not undeceive him ! It is wicked
and cruel to let him go on loving me ! Oh, how I wish that I
could tell him everything, and ask him to forgive me ! I used
to think it would be a delightful thing to be loved. I find now
that it is more sad than sweet ! "
Thus she mused, thinking and weeping, marvelling at and
lamenting the grievous perplexities that had crept into the life,
lately so bright and free, until, chilled and exhausted, she got
up and began to prepare for slumber. Her diamond ring
flashed glaringly, pertinaciously, as her hand moved to and fro
in the gaslight. While combing out her long, soft hair, she
was constrained, as it were, by its reflected gleams in the mirror,
to pause and examine it more closely.
No, she was not free to think of another's love ! Here was
the symbol of her bondage. Its dazzling rays seemed to mock
her indecision. Not that she was really halting between two
opinions. She knew her duty, and was ready to obey its lead¬
ings. Albert was handsome and noble, and he idolized her.
Marie was always telling her what a prize she had won, and
how many other girls had tried to capture him and failed ; and
how proud and happy she ought to be — and whatever Mario
1%
78
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
approved must be right. It would be very pleasant to be her
sister, and live next door to her, and go out riding, and shop¬
ping, and visiting with her, and hear everybody talking in
praise of the two Mesdames Lorraine ; but there was so much
to be braved, so many explanations to make ! Her thoughts
were running into the same channel they had taken, the pre¬
vious evening, while Marie was descanting upon these future
glories, and somehow she could not drive them back now.
Marie had said that she was cowardly and childish in permit¬
ting these fears to overshadow her, and that she ought to love
Albert so intensely as to lose sight of everything and every¬
body else in the world. " I do love him ! I could not have
engaged myself to him if I had not loved him passionately ! "
she murmured, in self-exculpation ; but the contrast between
the strength of meaning in the word and the feeble emphasis
was nearly ludicrous.
At that instant, just as she was raising the ring to her lips
»—the caress Lorraine had begged her to bestow each night
oo O
and morning upon his love-token—she heard the distant shriek
of a locomotive. It was the train in which John was to go
back to the city. She imagined him happy and hopeful, for¬
getting the loneliness of his ride in dreams of her and the
sweet half-promise he had obtained. She remembered the
respectful fervor of his address — the very simplicity of ear¬
nestness ; his delicate allusion to his long attachment ; the gen¬
erosity he had showed in consenting to await her time of reply
•— and unconsciously at first, afterwards in spite of her will,
she compared all this with the fluent, high-flown, pressing
declaration of her accepted lover.
" But it is no use thinking of these things now ! " she said,
aloud and desperately. " The matter is settled, and all I can
do is to float with the current. Only " — her voice breaking
and eyes swimming — "I should be happier if I could love
HUSBANDS AND HOMES. 73
Albert as well when I am away from him as when he Is with
me ! "
And for the first time since it was put upon her finger she
fell asleep without kissing the charmed ring.
80
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
CHAPTER VII.
One of the minor indulgences which Mr. Boylan allowed
himself, in consideration of his advancing age, was a later
breakfast, and consequently, a later appearance at his place of
business than he had esteemed proper and necessary in former
years. The morning succeeding Miss Dupont's party, he was
in no haste to be off. He was not, at heart, an unkind, although
often outwardly a harsh parent, and when in a good humor,
he liked to hear the girls talk over their frolics.
Tiny was in high feather all breakfast-time. Mr. Cleveland
had come out of town early in the evening to escort her — she
made no mention of Maggie — to the festive scene. He had
danced twice with her, and introduced her to a succession of
delightful partners. These items leaked out, of their own
weight, through her descriptions of dresses, supper, people, etc.,
which etcetera comprised an elaborate account of Mrs. Dupont's
flattering hospitality, and Marie's attention to herself, the em¬
inently deserving Miss Boylan. Tiny was egregiously vain,
as both her father and Maggie well knew ; but the one was too
much amused by her flippant gossip, and the other too ab¬
stracted to check her egotistical prating. She had, thus left to
herself, gained such headway, that when Marian walked into
the breakfast-room and informed the party at the table that
she was there on purpose to hear news of the ball, Tiny re¬
mained spokeswoman. She flirted her head defiantly, as if
prepared to retort with double force, upon whatever of innu<-
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
81
endo and raillery Marian might feel herself called upon to
enunciate, and held on her course.
" The Dashaways were there in great strength. They never
miss an invitation. There is such a brood of them that some
must leave the nest soon, or they will have to shed their fine
feathers. Mr. Lorraine said they appeared in the character
of a rainbow, mistaking it for a fancy dress ball. Sophie was
in yellow, Emma in pale pink, Julia in blue, and little Pauline
in white."
" Only two of the original prismatic colors in the party ! "
said Marian. " Why do you pity them ? They outnumber
us by one only."
"One in a family makes a great difference, when that one
is a fourth daughter, to be settled in the world," rejoined Tiny.
" Particularly, as it seems to be uphill work with them all to
get husbands."
" Ah Î that alters their case. Any woman in such a position
has my commiseration. I see now that they have every rea¬
son to envy our family. But go on ! You had a fair rep¬
resentation of foreigners —■ ' Jews, Turks, and Infidels,' I
suppose ? "
" By no means ! The company was as select as so large an
assemblage could be. Mrs. Dupont mingles in the best Amer¬
ican circles. Why should she not ? She is not French, if her
husband was."
" A sharp fellow Î " said Mr. Boylan. " A keen business
man, and he bore a good character."
"Then there were the Yanderbiggs, and the Van Phlats,
overdressed, blouzy, and stupid, in everybody's way, mute as
fish, and loaded with jewelry. Mr. Lorraine whispered to me
that an amicable arrangement had been entered into by Mrs.
Dupont, and Ball, and Black, whereby they — Ball and Black
— were allowed to furnish several walking advertisements of
82
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
their wares, for her parlors, and that tins was their great show
evening. I nearly died with laughing at the notion."
" A witticism that has the merit of originality, certainly,"
said Mrs. Ainslie. " I do not recollect to have heard it above
a hundred times. No wonder it came near being fatal to you ! "
Tiny dashed on. " But the richest sight of all was the bride,
Mrs. Uxor."
" Ha ! I heard the old man liad made a goose- of himself for
the third time," commented Mr. Boylan, helping himself to a
hot muffin. " He is rich enough to afford it, however. If he
has a fancy to take another dip in purgatory, nobody need
hinder him. Who was she ? "
" A poor schoolma'am, whom he picked up last summer,
among the White Mountains, with nothing but health and flesh
to recommend her. She stared about her, as if she were at a
cattle fair. I told Mr. Cleveland that the tale of her birth¬
place must be a mistake. It was plain that she was raised in
the Green Mountains, instead. He ! he ! "
"Whereupon he nearly killed himself laughing, of course!"
said Marian. " Poor John ! But I have not heard yet how
this silent girl acquitted herself," she added, changing her
manner as she turned to Maggie. " Did you have a merry
and a successful evening, Puss ? "
" A merry and a pleasant one. I say nôthing of its success/'
returned Maggie, smiling.
" That we will take for granted. Who were your most irre¬
sistible and attentive partners ? "
Maggie named some half-dozen gentlemen, as having been
very polite and agreeable.
" You do not mention our friend, Mr. Cleveland," said Mrs,
Ainslie, secretly pleased at an omission which might proceed
from maiden bashfulness. " Did Tiny monopolize him to the
exclusion of every other lady ? "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" There was no monopoly in the matter ! " put in Tiny.
" The attentions lie rendered me were voluntary. Thank gra¬
cious ! I am not dependent upon the pleasure of any one man
when I go into company. Mr. Cleveland waited upon Maggie
quite as much as was consistent with his duties to others."
" I was not aware that he owed duty to any one besides her.
If you are right, however, this may explain some things that
have perplexed me heretofore. I refer to his polite notice of
those persons to whom inclination certainly could not be sup¬
posed to direct him. He is an unselfish fellow."
" A fine young man ! " said Mr. Boylan, not at all discom¬
posed by the spirited passages between his daughters. " If
you can catch him, Tiny, you will do well. I give my consent
in advance."
Tiny tried to blush and not to look too pleased. Marian
laughed •— a low laugh of sarcastic incredulity, that required
no words to second its meaning.
" fou were speaking of Mr. Lorraine, a while ago," she said.
" Was he fascinating as usual, last night ? as gay a butterfly
as his chains would allow him to be ? "
" He conducted himself admirably ! " Tiny became his ad¬
vocate, the instant Marian's tone seemed to decry him. " His
relation to Marie authorized him to act as one of the amily,
and lie played the part of host well. I can't see why you are
eternally sneering at him. He is an elegant man, a thorough
gentleman. I would set my cap at him, if he were not already
pledged elsewhere."
" Hey ? " exclaimed Mr. Boylan, suspending the operation
of breaking a second egg. " That is the chap who waltzed so
long with Miss Dupont at your party —isn't it? "
Tiny replied in the affirmative, somewhat startled by her
father's manner.
" He is certainly engaged to be married to her, is he ? "
84
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
"1 believe liiere is no doubt of it, sir."
"She is a fool!" he rejoined, cracking the shell with bis
spoon, and speaking with deliberate energy. " A great fool to
think of marrying that scoundrel. She will end her days in
the poor-house, and he his upon the gallows, or at Sing-Sing.''
" Why, Pa ! " ejaculated the amazed Tiny, while Maggie
shaded her eyes with her hand, and waited, with pale, averted
face, for what terrible disclosure she could not guess. " You
must be mistaken in the person."
" I mean what I say ! His name is Lorraine, and he is a
book-keeper with Lawrence & Co., — a tall fellow, with black
hair and whiskers, wears a short moustache, dresses like a
prince, or a dandy gambler, which he is. lie is a great rascal.
If I had not understood certainly that he was engaged to the
French girl, I should have warned him off these premises,
weeks ago. He is a wild, dissipated, trifling adventurer, whose
character is not worth that"—snapping his fingers — " among
substantial, clear-sighted men. I would horsewhip him if he
ever presumed to pay his addresses to one of my daughters.
So, Miss Tiny, let us hear no more jesting about setting your
cap at him. I won't have his name coupled with that of either
of you girls, even in fun."
The blood was slowly freezing around Maggie's heart. But
for her intense desire to hear all, the worst that remained to be
said, her senses would have deserted her.
" This is very strange ! " said Mrs. Ainslie, deeply inter
ested. " I cannot see how he managed to gain a foothold in
good society."
" Through his brother, I hear," answered Mr. Boylan. " He
is in business with Ward and Parrish, and possesses a hand¬
some private fortune. He is a steady, enterprising maa—
older than this fellow, and is now travelling in Europe."
" Can it be possible that Marie is ignorant of her lover's tiue
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
85
character ? " marvelled Marian. " I never liked him from the
first, and I know that she is indiscreet, but I had no idea that
matters were so bad* as you say. She has a sad life before her
if all this, or the half of it be true."
" It is true, I tell you ! I have had it from the best au¬
thorities, and much more of the same nature that will not bear
repeating. As for this girl, she must bear it as well as she
can. It is all her own doing, and nobody else is to blame."
" I beg your pardon, sir ! Her mother and friends are much
to blame for suffering the engagement to be formed. Some
one ought to warn her. She is no favorite of mine, yet I feel
disposed to speak to her myself. It would be an act of com¬
mon humanity ! "
" You will do no such thing ! " retorted Mr. Boylan, pos¬
itively. " I don't choose that you shall mix yourself up in"
the affair, nor that you shall bring me into trouble. Let other
people manage their own matters ! you are not the regulator
of public morals."
Marian was obstinate. " Then, sir, you will do all that does
belong to your province — protect your daughters from the
dangers of association w7ith this person ? They may repent it
some day. It cannot be right in us to countenance persons of
bad reputation."
Mr. Boylan laughed at the absurd suggestion.
" And go through the world demanding certificates of char¬
acter from every man, woman and child whom you meet?
We must take life as we find it, only looking out for number
one, and let our neighbors do the same. If a young man visits
here, I institute private inquiries as to his standing in business
and in the social circle. If all is right, I let him alone. If he
cannot stand the test, I manage to convey to him the knowledge
that he is not welcome, unless I see that there is no risk in his
occasional calls, as in this instance."
8
86
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
a It appears to me. nevertheless, papa, that every young,
pure girl should shun the companionship of a wicked man,
although he may be engaged, or even married to another," said
Marian, steadily. " There is such a thing as unconscious con¬
tamination."
u Oh ! if you are off upon the ' highfalutin ' string, I have
no more to say ; I do not comprehend your overstrained theo¬
ries," replied Mr. Boylan, rising. " I am a plain, practical
man, who only knows enough to take care of himself and his
household, without trying to turn the world upside down."
Maggie slipped out of the room during this speech, and sped
up stairs. She could not seclude herself in her chamber, for
Marian would soon seek her there, and to meet her sisterly
eye, while she was in her present state, would inevitably betray
everything. Up one, two, three flights of steps, she ran, fear
lending strength to lier feet, to a small room at the very top of
the house, seldom visited by any member of the family, and
where no one would dream of looking for her. She bolted
the door, and then, as if still dreading detection, couched down
behind a pile of boxes, shaking and panting like a hunted hare.
She had cause for alarm. This was the day—this the fore¬
noon, in which Lorraine was to call upon her father and com¬
municate the tidings of their mutual attachment. She had
heard, for herself, what answer he would receive. That it
would be more favorable than her father had declared it should
be, in his imaginary case, she could not believe. How could
she endure the agony of shame — the just recompense of her
deceit and imprudence, that hung over her ? She was ruined
for life ! disgraced in the eyes of her family ; the object of her
father's wrath, her mother's grief, Marian's indignation, Tinys
sneers, John's silent contempt ! Oh ! if she could run away
until the storm had passed ; if she could hide, far; far from the
gaze of any who had ever seen or known her: if she e?uJd dia
and be forgotten !
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
87
She did not weep ; — her terror was too great. She grov¬
elled on the floor, and wrung her hands, with inarticulate moans
pressed out of her quaking heart by the load of anguished
apprehension.
At last, a word escaped her writhing lips — " Marie ! " re¬
peated ever and again, like an invocation to a superior being.
" If she were here, she would do something for me — would
prevent this in some way."
Piercing this blind trust in her friend, there darted a sudden
thought. The telegraph ! A message sent now might reach
Lorraine before he had time to see her father. The idea
brought her to her feet on the instant. Then arose a question.
How should the dispatch be sent ? What messenger could she
trust? Clearly, no one except herself ! She must contrive to
elude Tiny's cat-like espionage, and Marian's affectionate watch,
ill leaving the house, and run the risk of encountering some
inquisitive acquaintance in the telegraph oflice. For perhaps
three minutes, she stood irresolute, then the image of her father's
angry face arose before her, and she hesitated no longer. Her
room was vacant, but she heard her mother's plaintive tones
recapitulating some tale of woe to Marian in a neighboring
apartment, and as she tied on her bonnet, she distinguished the
click of Tiny's heels in the passage on the private stairs lead¬
ing to the kitchen. The coast was clear for a little while, then !
She glided down the steps, passed the door and gate unchal¬
lenged, and gained the street leading into the town.
There happened to be no one in the office but the operator,
who was a stranger to her, and gathering courage from her
success thus far, Maggis sat down at a table and tried to com-
•> oö
pose her thoughts sufficiently to indite a message. It was no
easy task to convey the warning she desired to send, in few,
yet satisfactory words, without the introduction of proper names.
She pencilled several notes, which were torn as soon as written,
88
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
being either too obscure or too explicit to be forwarded with
safety. The operator sat, meanwhile, at his post, apparently
unobservant of her, the incessant ticking of the mysterious
machine aggravating her nervous disquiet. A man entered
presently with a dispatch, and said that he would wait for the
reply. Here was fresh trouble ! What if there were other
telegrams that were to precede hers, and thus delay it until the
fhtal interview had commenced !
Prompted by desperation, she wrote hurriedly — " Do no?'
speak to my father until you have seen me. We are in dan¬
ger. M. J. B."
If the operator were curious, or unfaithful to his obligation
of secrecy, he might surmise and expose everything from the
single line she placed in his hand, but there was no alternative.
Every downward step in deceit is necessarily an advance into
danger. Poor, misguided Maggie was feeling, if she did not
acknowledge this fixed law. She glanced at the clock as the
man quietly laid aside the slip of paper to abide its time. Her
father must be nearing the city at this hour.
" O, sir ! " she entreated, " cannot you send it at once ? It
is very important."
"There are two ahead of it," was the cool rejoinder. "First
come, first served ! "
The ticking went on, but, as it seemed to Maggie's agonized
ears, more slowly than before.
" I am willing to pay any sum to have that message for¬
warded immediately," she said, lier voice shaking with the
extremity of her solicitude.
It was a sweet, pleading accent, and the face turned towards
the indexible official was too girlish and pretty to be blanched
by sorrow or anxiety. So thought the tliiri person present, a
ruddy-cheeked farmer, who lowered his newspapei, as tha
petition reached him.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
89
" Let the lady's message go before mine ¿** he said kindly,
" 1 can wait."
" Oh, thank you, sir ! " exclaimed the grateful girl. "You
are very good."
" Lou are welcome," he rejoined, and in bio large, soft heart,
he conjectured whether the dear child's father or mother were
ill, or was it an absent brother she was longing to hear from ?
7 O O
Five minutes more by the grim dial-plate suspended against
the wall, and the momentous message passed over the wires.
Drawing a long breath, when she was assured that she had
done all that she could, Maggie bowed silently to her stranger-
friend and departed.
90
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
CHAPTER VIII.
Tiny was not half through her morning tour of overseeing
and fault-finding, the next day, when the Dupont carriage
drove up to the door and Marie alighted. Her inquiry of the
servant who answered her ring was not as usual, for "the
young ladies," but very pointedly for " Miss Maggie." Yet it
was Tiny who appeared in the parlor to welcome her.
"You will excuse my dishabille, I hope ? " said Miss Boylan,
glancing at her tidy wrapper.
" No apologies, I beg, my dear girl ! I ought to ask your
pardon for calling at such an unconscionably early hour, but,
you know, Maggie and I cannot exist apart for two days, and
I have a confidential matter I want to talk over with her this
morning—something about my own personal affairs, and I
had not patience to wait longer. (That hint may keep her
meddling ladyship out of the room while I am with Maggie),"
she added, inly.
" Certainly — I understand Î " assented Tiny. " You may
not have heard that the dear child has been sick ever since the
night of your delightful party."
" I have not. "What is the matter ? "
" A feverish cold, with headache. She is not robust, bloom¬
ing as she looks. I always distrust that peculiar varying flush
in the cheek. It has a hectic appearance to me. I am pale}
I never had color, even when a child, yet I am rarely sick."
" She can see me — can she not ? " queried Marie.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
91
"I will run up and see how she is, just now. Perhaps 1
can smuggle you in, although the doetor talks about nervous
irritability, and enjoins quiet."
Maggie was alone, heavy-eyed and dejected. She turned
crimson, then very white, as she heard who was below.
" Well," said Tiny, impatiently, " will you see her, or not ? "
" Let her come up," answered Maggie, faintly.
iC Then yon take the responsibility, you understand, for if
tho doctor has anything to say about over-excitement, Marian
will charge it all to me, and I am tired of bearing false accusa¬
tions. I wash my hands of the whole transaction. And I do
sincerely hope and trust, Maggie, that you will have the sense
to hold your tongue about what Pa said yesterday at breakfast,
If it is true, you can do no good by telling it to Marie. She is
to marry the man, not you, and she is supposed to know her
own business best. Mr. Lorraine is an agreeable gentleman,
and Marie a most desirable acquaintance — just the stylish girl
one likes to visit. As Pa says, it will not do for us to be more
nice than wise, if we expect to make our way in life. You
will be prudent — won't you ? "
" Yes," murmured Maggie, turning her burning face to the
pillow.
Tiny was bustling around the room, setting chairs straight,
jerking at curtains, pulling and smoothing the bedclothes.
" ïou must see for yourself how ridiculous it would be to tell
Marie what kind of a man she will have for a husband. Even
if he is dissipated, he may get over it. I have heard that these
gay young fellows often make the best married men when they
have sowed their wild oats. At any rate, it will be time
enough to cut them when we see that they are going down in
the world. For my part, I am apt to be charitable towards
the failings of those I like."
She reappeared, by and by, conducting Marie, and saying,
92
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
playfully — " Remember, now; no exciting conversation!"
left the friends together.
She had no sooner gone than Maggie threw herself upon hei
confidante's bosom, and wept long and uncontrollably. Marie
petted and pitied, and coaxed her back to a calmer mood.
" Now," she said seriously and affectionately, when she had
laid the tired girl upon her pillow, bathed her face with eau de
cologne and brushed her hair, " tell me exactly what has
happened to put you into such a state, and why you sent that
dispatch to Albert."
" He did get it, then, and in time ! " exclaimed Maggie,
clasping her hands.
" Yes, yes ; but what possessed you to write it ? He was
half crazy about it last night. Ile was sure, he said, that
something was wrong."
" I am so glad — so relieved, to know that it reached him ! "
Maggie went on as if she had not heard the last clause of this
remark. " I went to bed with a sick headache as soon as I
got back from the office, and here I lay all day, dreading for
Pa to come home. If Marian had not been with me, I should
have fainted away when I heard him in the hall. I expected
every minute that he would burst in upon me and order me
out of the house. Then, he was talking with Ma in their room,
and I was certain that it was about me, for I knew from her
voice that she was crying, and I thought she was persuading
him to let me stay until I got well. It is a great comfort to
hear that they don't know. It makes everything else so much
easier for me. You have done me good already, Marie."
" ' They don't know ' ivhat ? ' Everything else so much
easier ! ' You are talking in riddles ! Do quiet yourself, and
tell me what all this mystery is ! " insisted Marie, in a fever
of curiosity.
If Maggie had lent any heed to Tiny's admonitions of silence,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
93
she totally forgot or disregarded them now. She gare Marie
a full account of her father's unflattering portrait of Miss Du-
pont's supposed betrothed ; the predictions of ruin in store for
him and for her, if she married him, dwelling longest upon the
asseveration that he would horsewhip Lorraine if he ever pre¬
sumed to lift his eyes to one of his daughters.
Marie listened attentively to the recital, and at its conclusion,
sat still for some time, absorbed in reflection.
" I am sorry that this has happened for your sake, my darl¬
ing," she said. "I had thought your father a man of more
correct judgment than he has showed in condemning our dear
Albert, upon mere hearsay, most probably upon the evidence
of some jealous or prejudiced person. Albert has his enemies.
What man of mark in society has not ? To you, the noble
fellow needs no vindication from these vile reports. His de¬
fence is written deep in your true, womanly heart, and this
undeserved, this cruel persecution of so much excellence has
but made him dearer to you, bound you to him by indissoluble
ties. It is the common lot of those who love most fondly, dear
Maggie, to have their mutual devotion baptized by tears, sealed,
sanctified, made immortal by sorrow. I wish that it had been
otherwise with you, for I would spare you every pang, yet the
strength and purity of your love will sustain you through this
tribulation. You will, in the end, be stronger, happier, and a
more dearly loved wife because of this bitter trial."
" Wife ! " echoed Maggie, bewildered by this breathless flow
of sentimentalisms. "Did not I tell you that it was all off?
that Pa would never give his consent? I could not marry
without it, you know."
Some confidants would have been vexed at this ready sub¬
mission to parental authority, and the evident failure of their
exhortations to constancy towards the maligned one ; many
would have felt astonished at the preponderance of fear over
94
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
affliction, in one who had confessed to such fervor of attach*
ment. Marie was neither angered nor amazed. It is ques¬
tionable whether she had relished any previous stage of this
affair as heartily as she did this. On the topics of fathers'
tyranny and the fidelity of ill-used lovers, she was perfectly at
home, and she backed up ber arguments by examples, apropos,
and innumerable — from the standard authorities upon these
points, to wit, French and Frenchy-English novels.
Maggie saw to what she was being drawn, but lay in a kind
of mental paralysis, unable to struggle for liberty of will.
Marie was a specious talker and an artful flatterer, and her
soul was in her cause. Before her coming, Maggie was sad,
but tranquil, and as she believed herself, free —Marie left her
excited, miserable, and bound by a solemn promise to hold
fast her troth, in defiance of parents, friends, evil reports, the-
world !
Miss Dupont came regularly every morning for a week,
with presents of fruits and flowers, ostensibly from her mother's
conservatory and hot-houses, and concealed beneath, or within
each dainty offering, lay a tiny note, the serpent that lured the
deluded girl still further from the path of right and honor.
None of these appliances were superfluous. Each one was
needed to keep Maggie true to her pledged word and false to
filial duty. Never before had home been so delightful. Ma¬
rian was her tender nurse during every afternoon and evening,
and Will's pleasant face showed itself in her chamber each
night, enlivening the patient with merry sayings and fresh
anecdotes. Her father looked in upon her twice daily, to kiss
her, inquire how she was, and if she wanted anything. Even
her mother's inefficient anxiety touched Maggie, for she knew
it to be sincere, and that she was her favorite child.
There were other floral visitors besides those introduced by
Marie, — tasteful and emblematic groups, preheated by Will
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
95
without a syllable of banter, and received by Maggie, with a
stiange, choking heart-ache. These were usually set out of
sight before the time for Marie's visit arrived — why, Maggie
scarcely asked herself. On the sixth day of her sickness, she
inadvertently omitted this precaution. A bouquet, consisting
of a white camellia, surrounded by heliotropes, stevias, and
heather-sprigs, stood upon a stand beside the convalescent's
chair, and attracted Marie's attention directly.
" Ah ! here is something new ! " she said, taking it up.
" How pretty and fragrant ! Who sent it, Mignonne ? "
Maggie's cheeks were scarlet. " Mr. Cleveland."
" Constant as ever ! Poor fellow ! " smiled Marie, putting
down the vase. " You are a clever little conspirator, my pet."
" A conspirator ! I ! "
" Yes, you ! Do you mean to tell me that your acute brain
—• which is only stupid when it imagines itself to be silly —
has not perceived what an invaluable assistant this faithful
•John' may be to us in maturing and concealing our plans?"
" I have never thought of him in that light. I have no
plans, as you know, Marie. I am only waiting, by your ad¬
vice, to see what time may do towards righting fchis sad, sad
affair of mine," said Maggie, dejectedly.
But Marie shook her head, and looked her applause at the
diplomacy that hid its end even from its co-workers.
" I don't see what use I can ever make of John's liking for
me," persisted Maggie. " I only regret that it exists. If can
bring nothing but pain to us both."
" He will never break his heart for any woman alive," re¬
turned Marie, carelessly. " He is too matter-of-fact in head,
and too lively in disposition — too much of a lady's man.
There is no passion about him, nothing grand and deep, as there
is in Albert's character. I cannot fancy Mr. Cleveland's wife
ever being awed by him "
96
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" She would respect him ! " said Maggie, in a low tone.
"Perhaps! Inever could. I have no respect for the man
v, ho could love a woman for four years, and never take the
trouble to let her know what his feelings were. It argues a
want of heart or a looseness of principle," replied Marie,
growing severely virtuous.
" But he has — " Maggie commenced, in eager vindication
— then stopped and hid her face.
" Voila, qui devient interessant ! " cried Marie, in her high,
gay voice. " No half-way confidence wdth me, my beauty ! I
am dying to hear it all ! "
That simple " all," Maggie was constrained to confess, feel¬
ing the while, very much as if she were guilty of sacrilege.
" Better and better ! " said Marie, when assured that she had
no more to hear. " He is in no haste for the answer to this
impassioned proposal. Let him wait ! Gentlemen of his tem¬
perament can be kept in suspense, ad infinitum, without injury
to their appetites or digestions. You have only to quiet any
feeble symptoms of impatience he may think proper to affect
by the sugar-plum of a soft word or a bewitching glance, and
there will be no difficulty in deferring your reply until the
right moment of revelation arrives. Leave the management
of all that to me ! A better means of blinding your father
and the Ainslies could not have been devised. Fortune smiles
upon us, Petite ! "
Mrs. Ainslie came over, as was her custom, about three
o'clock that afternoon, and was electrified by Tiny's announce¬
ment — made with malicious glee — that her patient had flown.
She had been carried off by Miss Dupont at noon.
" Whose plan was that?" inquired Marian, indignantly.
" Marie's invitation was warmly urged by all of Maggie's
friends," Tiny said, dignifiedly. " I telegraphed for Pa s sanc¬
tion, telling him that the doctor prescribed a change of place.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
97
We did not think jour consent necessary before concluding
upon the arrangement. Maggie left a note for you."
Marian did not open it until she reached home. It was
short, and penned unevenly — in weakness, haste, or agitation
— probably all three.
" Dearest Marian : Do not be vexed at my leaving you
so suddenly. Marie is very urgent that I shall pass some days
with her, and the doctor says that I need change of air and
scene. Papa and mamma have given their consent, so you see
I cannot help going. My only trouble is — " she had drawn a
pen through these words and substituted — " The principal ob¬
jection I have to accepting Marie's offer, is the fear lest you
should disapprove of it. Dear sister, do not be angry with
me ! You know how dearly I love you, more than ever of
late, for your goodness to me during my sickness. I am so
unworthy of it all, but I do feel grateful! Kiss brother WJ1
for me. Thank Mr. Cleveland for his kindness. I shall al¬
ways remember it. I write with Marie and Tiny talking
around me, as they pack my clothes, and my head is in a
whirl. Again, forgive me, if I wound you by this abrupt
departure. Marie is so determined that I cannot deny her
anything. Lovingly,
" Maggie."
Marian shed tears of wounded feeling and pride over this
epistle, as she showed it to her husband at night.
" That French girl's influence over Maggie is unaccountable.
I, for one, will never try again to counteract it. I had hoped
that Maggie appreciated my love and lesirc for her real good,
but I see that it was all thrown away. It was unkind and
ungrateful to you, as well as to myself. I will not go near her,
or write a line to her, while she is with the Duponts."
" Gently ' gently ! " interposed Will.
9
98
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" I say that I will not ! She does not need me. She with«
drew herself from my charge, and she may have her way. X
believe, in my heart, if that Marie were to tell her to jump into
the river to-morrow, she would say, ' You see that I must do
it- Marie is so determined that I cannot deny her anything !1 "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
99
CHAPTER IX.
One fine morning, two months subsequent to the events nar*
rated in the last chapter, John Cleveland stood on the cornef
of the block in which was situated his boarding-house, watch¬
ing the approach of a street-car. He was arrested in the act
of signaling the driver, by a hand upon his arm.
" Good-morning, Mr. Lawrence ! " he said, recognizing the
gentleman who had taken this liberty with his movements.
" Are you going down town ?"
"Yes ; but will you let that man drive on, and walk a short
distance with me ? I have something to say to you."
John consented, and the two started down the street, side by
side. Mr. Lawrence was the junior membei of a large im¬
porting house, a man whose gentlemanly bearing and kind
heart won for him general esteem. Cleveland had known him
well — almost intimately, for many years, and various acts of
courtesy and liberality in their business intercourse had given
each a high opinion of the other's probity and good-will. John
was not surprised, therefore, when his companion assumed a
confidential tone in broaching the theme of the proposed con¬
versation.
A very painful, a truly distressing circumstance had come
to light in their establishment, within a day or two past, he
stated. Some weeks since, suspicions that all was not right
was awakened, and a secret investigation was set on foot. The
result left no doubt in the minds of the firm that large sums
100
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
had been embezzled from time to time, and false entries made
to conceal the theft. The guilty party was one to whom they
were personally much attached ; a young man trained by tlieni-
selves, and heretofore trusted to the utmost limit of confidence.
" You must have seen him in our inner office," said Mr.
Lawrence, dropping his voice and looking carefully over his
shoulder to make sure that he was safe in mentioning names.
" Our chief book-keeper, Lorraine."
" Is it possible ! " ejaculated the listener. " I know him
— that is, I have seen him, but not in your office, I think."
" A handsome, sprightly fellow ! " said Mr. Lawrence.
" Our Mr. Lawrence, Senior, my worthy uncle, feels an espe¬
cial fondness for him, Lorraine having been the particular
friend of his only son, a fine lad, who died some years ago.
The other clerks have manifested a disposition to grumble at
Lorraine's rapid promotion, and I have myself once or twice
intimated to my uncle that his partiality was perhaps too ob¬
vious. But. it did honor to his heart, if not to his head. This
unworthy conduct on the part of his protege is a sore trial to
the old gentleman. I think the ingratitude that characterizes
it is the sting that pierces most sharply."
" It is most base, inexcusable ! " remarked John. " Is he
aware that his crime is discovered ? "
" He suspects that some part of it is known, if he has not
learned, by some means, of the search and its result. My un¬
cle left a note upon his desk yesterday afternoon/asking for a
private interview in his office this morning — a measure of
questionable expediency in my opinion, since, if he is as well
informed with regard to our discoveries as I apprehend, he
may abscond without meeting us."
" Is it your purpose to expose him ? "
" Yes — and no ! We cannot, in justice to ourselves and
others who might employ him in the same capacity he oceu-
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
101
pies in our establishment, conceal the fact that his own wrong¬
doing is the cause of his discharge. But we will not prosecute
him, or make public the precise nature of his offence. I am
thus frank with you, Mr. Cleveland, because I feel, so to speak,
the need of a sympathizing listener and adviser. Moreover1,
you will doubtless hear mauy false versions of this unpleasant
affair, and we wish that a few discreet friends should know the
truth in full, that reports reflecting upon ourselves may be
contradicted."
John thanked him for the confidence with which lie had
honored him, and expressed sincere sorrow for what had oc¬
curred. It would have been affectation to say that the revela¬
tion of Lorraine's villany was as startling to him as to the firm
that employed the defaulter, yet he had not expected to hear it
so soon. Marian had repeated to her husband and his partner
her father's strictures upon the fast young dandy, and Mr.
Ainslie had heard hints from other quarters that corroborated
the dark sketch. John's personal prejudice against Lorraine
was so strong, that a native sense of justice withheld him from
passing judgment upon him, even in his own mind, until Mr.
Lawrence's disclosure left no room for charitable hesitation.
Mr. Ainslie was already at his desk when his partner en¬
tered, and received a pleasant rejoinder to his salutation.
" All well ? " asked John, as he seated himself in his office-
chair,
The oddity of this question, repeated each morning, seemed
never to strike either of them. It was presumed to refer to the
Ainslie household proper, which was, in Mr. Ainslie's absence,
represented by his wife alone, unless, by a forced interpreta¬
tion, the servants were included under the friendly inquiry.
Will answered as gravely as though he were the patriarch of a
numerous flock.
9*
102
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" All well, thank you ! at least, all who arc at home. Mag
gie went yesterday to spend a week with Miss Dupont."
" Ah ! " and there the conversation stopped.
It was hard work to settle to business this forenoon. John's
relations with Maggie were becoming daily more ambiguous.
Once, since his formal avowal of attachment to her, he had
spoken plainly and warmly of the same, and expressed a wish
for her reply. He had taken her hand, and not been repulsed ;
called her by endearing names, and she had not shrunk from
him. But she was overpowered by confusion, mastered by an
apparent strife of emotions, and he could not get a single
glimpse of the ingenuous countenance that would, he fancied,
have told him what he had to hope or fear. Her broken sen¬
tences conveyed some acknowledgment of his " goodness " and
u generous, undeserved affection," and promised soon, very
soon, to end his suspense. At this interesting juncture, the
pattering footfall of the invariable marplot, Tiny, was heard
approaching, and Maggie darted out of the room by the near¬
est door.
John was a patient lover, not, as Miss Dupont affirmed,
through lukewarmness, but because the very depth of his love
instructed him in self-denial. He wTas one of the very small
number of men in this hurrying age of quid pro quo, who
could fully enter into the meaning of those significant and
beautiful words — " And Jacob served seven years for Rachel,
and they seemed mito him hut a few days, for the love he had for
her"
Latterly, there had stolen into this waiting forebodings that
left long shadows upon the heart, although they did not cloud
the cheerful face. He disapproved utterly of Maggie's infatu¬
ated fondness for Marie Dupont's society. Mrs. Ainslie, with
all her expressed distrust of the " French clique," as she styled
them, did not observe the effect of this companionship upon
HUSBANDS AND HOMES-
103
her sister as did John's vigilant eye. She was changed from
the bright, happy child he had learned to love. Her spirits
were high whenever he met her — apparently exuberant ; but
her cheeks were oftener flushed than blooming ; a deep, burn¬
ing hue, hard in outline and fixed in its place, instead of the
quick, changing carmine that used to fluctuate with every
breath. The Misses Boylan were very gay this season, and
Maggie plunged into the stream of frolic and frivolity with the
desperate mirth of a blase or disappointed votary of pleasure,
who seeks excitement to drown thought, rather than the inno¬
cent glee of an unsatiated novice. " Those Duponts are doing
their utmost to make her as artificial as themselves," Marian
said, resentfully, and her husband " wondered why John did
not show himself the resolute, sensible fellow he was, and end
all this nonsense." It was not that John was blind to any of
these growing evils. They all passed in review before him
now, as he tried to read and answer letters, to overlook invoices
and issue orders. He began to ask himself if patience had not
had her perfect work, if it were not for Maggie's good, as well
as his happiness, to insist upon having his position defined, not
only to himself, but to the mischievous cabal that were striving
to mar the pure simplicity of the character he so admired.
This sober train of ideas was broken by the entrance of the
companion of his morning's walk.
His face wore a look of perplexed concern, and, drawing
John aside, he stated that the delinquent clerk had failed to keep
the appointment made for him by the senior Lawrence. That
this was not accidental, was proved by the fact that the letter,
which had been placed upon his desk, was no longer there.
Cautious inquiries were then instituted concerning him among
his fellow-employees, and two items of information gained.
The porter who swept out the store early in the morning testi¬
fied to having seen Mr. Lorraine enter the counting-room,
104
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
shortly after the doors were opened, but he had not thought of
watching his movements, and did not notice when he went out.
Another clerk stated that, having gone with a friend to the
depot of the Hudson River Railroad, at eight o'clock, he had
seen Lorraine there, and heard him ask for a ticket to —
station. It occurred to him, he said, that Lorraine looked un¬
easy, as he bade him " good-morning," in passing, although he
gave the circumstance no further thought at the time.
" My object in troubling you with this visit, Mr. Cleveland,"
said Mr. Lawrence, " is to inquire of you or of Mr. Ainslie,
whether you can furnish us with any clue to this unhappy
young man's hiding-place. Mr. Ainslie lives so near the sta¬
tion named, that he may be familiar with Lorraine's haunts in
that neighborhood. I know that he is in the habit of visiting
much up the river, and have heard rumors of his engagement
to some lady residing in or near . Can you aid us by any
suggestions on this head ? "
DO
" I believe that I am acquainted with the lady in question,"
replied John. " But before I accede to your request for sug¬
gestions, allow me to inquire how you propose to act in the
event of your procuring certain tidings of his whereabouts ? "
" I shall seek him in person, perhaps in company with a
friend, taking along a private policeman, whose duty it will be
to arrest Lorraine, if he cannot be brought away by peaceable
measures. If he is disposed to be reasonable, we will try to
elicit a confession that may enable us to find out his accomplices,
if he has any, and possibly lead to the recovery of some of the
stolen money. My uncle cannot be persuaded that a moral
lecture will not be beneficial, but my faith in this means of
reformation is very weak. Is my explanation satisfactory ? "
" Entirely. I can, I think, direct you to the refuge of the
runaway* I would ask one favor in return. If you have not
selected your companion in this expedition, let me go with
you."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
105
" The very thing I was about to ask of you ! " said Mr. Law¬
rence, grasping his hand. B And we have no time to lose."
In most circumstances, this task of hunting out a fugitive
from justice would have been the last office John would have
accepted, much less solicited. He foresaw, for himself, the
lasting hatred of Lorraine ; the scorn and enmity of the Du-
ponts ; the calumnies that would be disseminated in gossiping
circles, to explain his share in this transaction, and he was not
a man who valued his reputation lightly, or underrated the
power of evil rumors to tarnish the fairest name. But, opposed
to all these dissuasives from the step he proposed, stood the
image of Maggie, frightened and trembling at the violent or
mournful scenes that might attend the capture of the dishonest
clerk. She could not but be horrified beyond degree by the
accusation brought against Marie's betrothed, and she had not
Marie's hardihood to bear her up under the shock of the dis
covery and the arrest. At such a moment, she ought to have
a protector— a comforter— and he, of all those who loved her,
was the only one who could thus serve her. From the mo¬
ment Mr. Lawrence.had mentioned the name, upon Lorraine's
ticket, John's resolution was taken. If Mrs. Du pout's house
were entered on this errand, he would be one of the party, 01
their forerunner.
The two gentlemen alighted at the wayside station nearest
the suspected mansion, about eleven o'clock. The villa stood
upon high ground, nearly a mile back from the river, and was
approached by a winding road. The policeman, who was
dressed in plain clothes, so as not to attract attention, stepped
from another car than that which his employer had quitted,
and stopped at the little depot while the others walked on. Lie
overtook them at a point where an angle of the road concealed
the house from their view.
" All right so far ! " he said. " He got off here and went
106
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
straight up — " nodding in the direction of the dwelling
" Walk on pretty briskly, if you please, gentlemen. If he sees
us coming, he may be off. I wish those front windows did not
rake the whole country. If they are on the look-out, they will
have plenty of time to disguise him into a Sambo or a grand¬
mother, if he doesn't care to risk giving leg-bail. I see there-
is a sort of porter's lodge at the gate. I shall wait there. If
you want me, just wave a handkerchief in that direction, and I
am on hand."
" This must be a beautiful place in summer," remarked Mr.
Lawrence, as they neared the grounds.
He was growing nervous in the anticipation of the task
before him, and his companion shared the feeling too much to
reply, except by a nod. There was no one visible at the pretty
lodge, nor any sign of human life about the lawn or buildings.
The villa was spacious and handsome, with a Grecian front,
and the lawn sloped from it on all sides. The shrubbery was
tied up in matting, and the grass covered with a sort of compost
of leaves and straw, to protect it from the biting river winds.
John noticed all these things mechanically while he passed up
the avenue, and as he stood upon the piazza, awaiting the re¬
sponse to Mr. Lawrence's ring. They were not detained long.
A middle-aged servant in livery, the "Thomas" whom Lor¬
raine had personated on Cleveland's birth-night, unclosed the
door, and returning a grave affirmative to the inquiry whether
the ladies were at home, ushered the gentlemen into the parlor.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
107
CHAPTER X.
Mrs. Dupont, a showy, well-dressed woman, arose at the
visitors' entrance, with an air of unsuspecting politeness that
was an inimitable counterfeit if it were acting.
" Mr. Cleveland ! " she said, " I am happy to see you ! "
John took her offered hand in some embarrassment, and in¬
troduced his friend to her, then to Marie and Maggie, who were
also present. The young ladies were seated at a centre-table
strewed with worsted and other materials for embroidery. Both
were simple negliges, and there was nothing in their surround¬
ings and occupation indicative of any previous interruption of
their morning's quiet or industry. It was an awkward, and
an ungracious undertaking to bring forward the object of their
call. Mr. Lawrenc'e felt very much as if he were insulting
the courteous hostess, as he made a desperate attempt to open
the negotiations.
" I fear, madam, that you will consider this an unwarrant¬
able intrusion of a stranger upon your family circle, nor can I
hope that you will regard it in a more favorable light, when you
learn the very unpleasant business that has brought me hither."
Mrs. Dupont's features expressed bland surprise ; Marie
looked up inquiringly ; while Maggie paled suddenly, and her
shaking fingers could hardly hold, much less guide, her needle.
John noted these signs of perturbation, and said, inwardly
" lie is here. She lacks the effrontery that enables the
others to dissemble successfully."
IOS
HÜSBANDS AND HOMES.
" I beg your indulgence, ladies," Mr. Lawrence went oiy
"if I put questions that may seem to you-impertinent, and
insist, more earnestly than politely, upon your replies. You
are acquainted, I believe, madam, with Mr. Lorraine, lately a
book-keeper in our house — the firm of Lawrence & Co. ? "
" I am, sir," answered Mrs. Dupont, calmly.
" We have reason to believe that he has wilfully absented
himself from our establishment this forenoon, to avoid an inves¬
tigation which we feel ourselves bound to make of some un¬
pleasant business occurrences that have recently come to our
knowledge. Although he may think differently, it is to his in¬
terest to grant us an interview. May I inquire, madam, where
you last saw this gentleman ? "
" I can have no objection to telling you, sir. Mr Lorraine
breakfasted with us this morning."
" Is he in the house at present ? "
" He is not."
" Will you inform me at what time he left you ? "
" His intention, as he bade us 'good-by,' was to take the
nine o'clock train back to New York."
" The nine o'clock train, did you say, madam ? "
" I did, sir."
Here was a flaw in the testimony so smoothly given. Mr.
Lawrence was shrewd to detect it, and quick to conclude that
the suave lady might be capable of further falsification.
" I regret, madam, that I must be so rude as to correct this
statement. We have certain evidence that Mr. Lorraine did
not leave the city until eight o'clock. 1 ou see, at once, that
he could not, then, have breakfasted here in season to return
by nine."
The widow's rouge was variegated by streaks of natural red,
and her eye fell for a second. Marie came to the rescue.
"I could have rectified my mother's mistake as soon as it
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
100
was made, sir, had you allowed me an opportunity to speak
Mamma, Mr. Lorraine did not leave this house until half~pas(
nine. We are not accustomed to cross-examination in this law-
abiding, peaceful neighborhood, Mr. Lawrence, or we might
be more exact in noting the precise hour at which our friends
come and depart. Had we supposed that Mr. Lorraine's visit
was a matter of such vital consequence to others than ourselves,
we would have been ready with our depositions. For my part,
I cannot even remember whether he drank one, or two cups
of coffee, or ate biscuits instead of cakes."
This scoffing tone was just what John had looked for from
her, and Mr. Lawrence bore it the more patiently, in the rec¬
ollection of Miss Dupont's relation to the concealed culprit.
This impulse of compassionate forbearance induced him to turn
to another, and, as he supposed, a less interested party.
" Miss Boylan ! "
Maggie started convulsively, and her face grew, if possible,
of a more ghastly white.
" What is your impression as to the hour of Mr. Lorraine's
deserting such pleasant society as this ? Was it nine, or half-
past, or — " bending a searching gaze upon her — " do you
recollect that he left at all ? "
Twice Maggie's quivering lips essayed to utter the falsehood
she had been instructed to speak. The third time, she almost
whispered, " He did go ! I do not kftow when."
" Toil are certain, then, that he is not on these premises at
this time ? " pursued Mr. Lawrence, his eye growing more
penetrating.
" Your question is an insult, sir ! " interposed Marie, with
the evident design of covering Maggie's confusion by timely
bluster.
" Excuse me, Miss Dupont, but I must have the information
I seek from some source. It is better for your friend, Mr.
10
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Lorraine, L fvh :Ao my bands than into those of the law he
has violated. I now that he came to this place at the houi
I have named, and that he lias not since appeared at the depot
below. This is plain, harsh truth ; but it is truth, and must
be told. It is of the last importance to Mr. Lorraine, and to
those connected with him, that I should find him. If he is
concealed in the house — "
" Sir ! " Mrs. Dupont arose in awful dignity and stretched
her hand towards the bell-knob.
" Before you summon your servants, madam, I deem it but
just to inform you that a signal from me will bring an actor
upon the scene whom you cannot eject with impunity. There
is a policeman within call."
Maggie uttered a faint scream, and dropped her head upon
the table. John could not bear this. He went around to her,
and stooping, whispered some words intended to reassure her.
" Do not be frightened, dearest Maggie ; unworthy as the
fellow is, he will not be punished very severely. Do not let
your sympathy with Miss Dupont lead you to imitate her in
deception. Be yourself. Speak the truth ! "
" I cannot ! I cannot ! " she moaned, in stifled accents«
" Oh ! if I had never lived to see this day ! "
" Hush ! hush, my darling ! " John's hand sought hers
under the table. " This disagreeable affair cannot hurt you.
Trust me to see that your name is never mixed up in it."
During this by-play, Marie and her mother held a council
on the opposite side of the room. Its decision was announced
by Mrs. Dupont, who had recovered her self-assured manner.
" The shortest, and, as it seems to me, the only satisfactory
manner of settling this dispute, sir, is to summon your police¬
man and instruct him to search the premises. Our solemn
assurances having been inadequate to convince you that we
are not harboring the person you seek, it remains to be proved
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Ill
what can be discovered by other means. Only, sir, remembeï
that if this examination is as ineffectual as the other, the con
sequences of your behavior on this occasion will fall upoa
yourself."
Mr. Lawrence deliberated for a moment — then saying, " I
am willing to abide them ! " stepped to the door and waved his
handkerchief.
The policeman received his orders in the hall, Mr. Lawrence
returning to the parlor when he had given them. A dead
silence reigned in the apartment. Mrs. Dupont sat in lofty
hauteur, her black eyes fixed upon vacancy. Marie resumed
her work, ignoring the presence of the gentlemen, only a
nervous twitching of the swift fingers evidencing her secret
disquiet. Mr. Lawrence stood at a window overlooking the
river. Mr. Cleveland watched Maggie, in anxious pity. She
remained still as a marble statue, her head bowed upon the
table, her fingers interlocked upon her lap.
We have heard of men, who, in the death hour, lamented
over the wayward thoughts that wandered from the dread issue
pending upon the few, brief remaining minutes of time, to triv¬
ialities totally dissociated from the scene and hour. We have
felt our own mind, at the actual instant of life's sorest bereave¬
ment, turning aside, as in sheer inability or perverse unwilling¬
ness to receive the terrible consciousness of present woe, to
remark such paltry objects as the wry fold of a curtain ; a
medicine stain upon the pillow ; the creases of the disordered
coverlet. Yet all the while the horror of the great empty
darkness was over us ; the heart was wrung to the last gasp
with anguish ; we knew, while we reproached ourselves for
the unnatural digression of fancy, that our thoughts were like
cowardly children, striving to sing and sport in the night, their
very efforts a proof how they feared the dense gloom enshroud«
ing them.
112
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Maggie knew this to be the most critical moment of hei
existence. If the fugitive wrere tracked to his covert, the dis¬
grace to herself might be more public than if he made good
his retreat, but, in any event, disclosure was inevitable. The
thing she most feared was close upon her ; she saw no loop¬
hole of escape. She waited as sits the criminal in the cart
that bears him along the vista lined with living faces of curi-
o o
osity and horror, all staring upon him, and closed at the farther
end by the gallows. Yet fragmentary gleams of other days and
far different scenes played across her brain ; the faces and
forms of her school-fellows ; quiet sunset sails upon the river
■vith Marie, before Lorraine's image had troubled the girl's
J o O
pure fancy ; how she dressed for her maiden ball (how long
ago it seemed !) ; the pattern of the bouquet-holder she carried
then ; how John looked in his dressing-gown and smoking-cap,
on the evening they were given him ; the programme of the
last opera she had attended, when John and Will made up a
private party of four, and went from Mr. Ainslie's house, and
Tiny never suspected the frolic ; snatches of the songs she
heard then, wild, airy cadences, and difficult arias, and solemn
measured marches ; — O, what was she doing ! how could such
themes engage thought now, when the present peril was nar¬
rowing in upon her !
" Maggie ! " said John, softly, touching her hand. " Do not
look so startled ! I want to speak with you alone. Can I ? "
She got up to accompany him to another room, but Marie
checked the movement.
" I suppose, Mr. Lawrence, that, as matters stand, it is ex¬
pedient that none of us leave the parlor until your emissary
has finished his search. Mr. Cleveland, as your ally, is above
suspicion, but Miss Boylan may hereafter be arraigned for
having aided in the escape of this persecuted —- prosecuted, I
should say — gentleman."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
113
" Your suggestion is not without weight," returned Mr.
Lawrence, unruffled by her sarcasm. " Mr. Cleveland, may 1
beg you to remain with us ! "
John bit his lip to repress a caustic rejoinder, and, resolved
not to be baffled in his purpose, conducted Maggie to a bay
window at the other end of the long drawing-room. There he
O o
placed her upon a cushioned seat lining the recess, and stand¬
ing between her and the two at the centre-table, began, in
soothing tones, an account of the real state of this unfortunate
aifair, and the leniency of the firm whose goodness Lorraine
had abused.
" I am very sorry you happened to be here to-day. It is a
sad shock to you, through your love for Miss Dupont. Yet,
reflect how much better it is for her that this should happen
now, before she is irrevocably bound to him. If she were his
wife, there would indeed be cause for — "
He broke off abruptly, attracted by the spectacle of the
policeman passing before their window which opened upon the
rear lawn. Mr. Lawrence, too, had turned when he heard the
man come down stairs.
" What is the fellow about ? He cannot be through already ! "
he muttered, and catching a glimpse of him as lie crossed the
yard, he joined Cleveland at his look-out. Mrs. Dupont and
her daughter likewise arose, curiosity or solicitude mastering
their pride, and gathered, with the others, into the recess.
Marie laughed scornfully as she did so.
" There is to be an al fresco performance also, it seems ? "
No one replied, and all eyes watched the strange, yet con¬
fident motions of the officer. The shrubbery was abundant in
this part of the grounds, and Mr. Lawrence's conjecture was
that, f-om an upper window, the detective had espied some
suspicious object among the trees. But he did not pry into
the clumps of evergreens that dotted the lawn. Ile walked
10*
114
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
slowly, but straight up to a pyramid of matting, erected in
plain view of the spectators, but at some distance from the
house, and halted. The miniature tent apparently covered a
favorite vine or tree, having been constructed with unusual
care, and pinned closely to the ground. The man walked
around it, eyeing it keenly in all its parts, and then laid his
ear to its side as if to listen for breath or movement within.
This action partially prepared the excited watchers for his
next, which was to clasp the matting in his arms, and throw it
to the ground. A wild exclamation burst from Maggie's lips,
and she fell back fainting. Marie and her mother darted for¬
ward to her assistance. Mr. Lawrence's attention was wholly
given to what was passing without. He, alone, of the group
inside, saw the officer drag from the ruins of his hiding-place,
a struggling figure, his clothes and hair filled with straw and
dust, his face livid with rage and terror, and eyes glaring like
a wild beast at bay.
Thomas, the stout serving-man, who had, from some corner,
witnessed the downfall of the hiding-place his young mistress
had planned, and he reared, now ran into sight with manifest
design of rescue, but Mr. Lawrence thwarted him by springing
from the window and hastening to the scene of action to claim
his prisoner.
John Cleveland stood motionless in the midst of the tumult.
He did not know, and did not care that the arrest was a thins
7 ' O
accomplished. Maggie's insensible form was born past him by
menial hands, and he saw it not, any more than he heard
Marie's appeal to himself to interfere in Lorraine's behalf. •
His glassy eyes beheld only the expression of horror and
misery that had distorted Maggie's features at the moment of
discovery ; the shuddering depths of his soul echoed and re¬
echoed her agonized shriek —
" Spare him ! Oh, spare my husband ! "
husbands and homes.
115
CHAPTER XI.
In a small room of fourth-rate boarding-house, Maggie
Lorraine sat, one autumn afternoon, three years after her secret
marriage. The furniture of the apartment was dingy and ill-
matched, evidently consisting of superfluous or cast-off articles
from other portions of the establishment. Through an open
door was visible the interior of the chamber adjoining, a mere
closet, just large enough to hold a bed and washstand, and ven¬
tilated, as well as warmed, from the so-called parlor. There
was a fire in the grate, for the day was cold, and Maggie's
chair was drawn close to it. Upon the rug at her feet, was a
pretty delicate-looking child, a little over two years old, whose
striking resemblance to her once beautiful mother impressed
the most casual observer. She was busy with a pile of wooden
blocks, building houses, which she, ever and anon, called upon
her parent to admire. Maggie's answer was always a fond
smile and pleasant word, but such smiles and forced cheerful¬
ness as would have deceived no one but a baby. The transient
and sickly gleam made yet sadder the wan cheek and thoughtful
brow. Disappointment, the tortures of a waunded spirit, and
the wearing cares of her daily life had left unmistakable im¬
prints upon her features. She looked nearer thirty, than
twenty-two years of age.
Her very hands bore traces of toil, such as had never dis
figured their shapely outlines in her girlish days. Besides tbi
sweeping, dusting, etc., necessary to keep her rooms in ard ca
116
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
the slender fingers were used to plying the needle many hours
of each day — sometimes, when her husband was absent, far
into the night. He never suspected that she had so far de¬
meaned herself and him, as to beg of their landlady the privi¬
lege of doing plain and fancy sewing for her, that their board-
bill might not go altogether unpaid. His wife had learned the
lesson of necessary deceits too well in other days, not to prac¬
tise it now when it seemed needful. He did vconder, some¬
times, that the grim-faced hostess was not more restive, when
he paid her only a part of the sum due her, and this forbear¬
ance induced him to patronize her house for a longer period
than a gentleman of his tastes would have been likely to endure
its want of style and lack of minor comforts. After all, it was
a matter of small moment to him what kind of place his wife
and child called home. He seldom saw the interior of it from
breakfast until late at night. But for her babe, Maggie, with
her social, loving disposition, would have been wretchedly
lonely. Her old acquaintances had ostracized her, or dropped
off by degrees, after the news of her marriage and rumors of
her husband's disgrace were spread abroad. Her family had
renounced her utterly, and she had not the heart or courage to
seek other associates.
Therefore, Avhen she heard the sound of coming footsteps,
and sweeping silken skirts along the thinly-carpeted, narrow hall,
she had no thought that she was to be blest with a call, until
there came a rap at the door. The color rushed up into her
face as she opened it, and she saw Marie, now Mrs. Clement
Lorraine. The two kissed one another, but it was a frigid,
meaningless salute, very unlike the fervent greeting of olden
times.
" How do, little one ? " said Marie, brushing the forehead of
her niece with her cold lips.
" She is not very well," answered Maggie, drawing the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
11V
wondering creature closer to her side. It was an involuntary
impulse to secure to herself something of comfort and sincerity,
during the heartless conversation she expected. " She was
threatened with the croup, last night."
"No wonder ! " Mrs. Clement seated herself in the most
respectable chair of the poor collection, drawing up her floun¬
ces as if she feared they would be soiled by contact with the
faded carpet. " No wonder ! when you keep her cooped up in
this place, from one week's end to the other. Of course, if a
breath of fresh air reaches her, she takes cold. I send Clem¬
ent out for an airing every day, when it is not actually storm*
ing. The consequence is, his health is perfect."
Maggie thought, but did not say, that Master Clement Lor¬
raine, seated upon the nursery-maid's lap, wrapped in a furred
mantle, and rolling in a close carriage down Broadway, might
reasonably be less liable to take cold than her darling, holding
to her mother's hand, and tottering over the muddy or slippery
pavements in this unfashionable quarter of the city. She
reflected, moreover, upon the slight inconvenience it would oc¬
casion Mrs. Lorraine, her lazy coachman, and well-fed horses,
to drive by, occasionally, on damp days, and invite baby Louise
to share in the " airing " that wrought such salutary results to
her boy-cousin.
But she only said, " I blame myself for having taken her to
walk, yesterday. I had no idea the weather was so raw before
I went out. She was not very warmly clad, either. And that
reminds me of a surprise which I had to-day. Perhaps you
can tell me what kind friend has remembered my daughter in
this way."
She took from a drawer an embroidered child's cloak of
softest merino, a blue silk hood, and a pair of tiny rubber
boots, lined with wool and edged with fur. If she had truly
imagined that these acceptable additions to her babe's wardrobe
118
HUSBANDS AND HOMES..
came from her husband's rich brother or his »vife, Marie'i
countenance undeceived her. Her ignorance as to their donor
was genuine, and with her scant praises of the articles, there
was mingled ill-concealed surprise that any one should have
thought enough of the child to present them.
" It must have been Marian, or perhaps poor mamma ! "
sighed Maggie, as she laid them back. " I cannot bring my¬
self to believe that they have ceased entirely to care for me."
" They choose a singular method of showing their affection,"
remarked Mrs. Clement. " It is a pity they do not drop the
anonymous and do something to aid you, instead of wasting
money upon unsuitable finery for Louise."
Maggie's heart swelled. As if her pure lily-bud were not
entitled to as much of the sunshine of life as the pampered
nursling of the speaker's rich conservatory ! She picked up her
work and went on with it, in silence. Marie eyed it almost
angrily. It was a slip of white cambric, too small for Louise,
and in its very pattern and size, a mute and touching appeal to
a mother's heart.
" A ou are extravagant in your preparations," said the
wealthy sister. " That cambric is altogether too fine for such
a purpose. I should think that you had enough of Louise's
clothes left to obviate the necessity of making up new ones
now."
" Louise wore out nearly everything. I altered whatever I
could for her last summer's wear. And this cambric is not
new. It is part of a wrapper which I had before I was mar¬
ried."
There was no hidden meaning in the rejoinder. It was the
. uth, simply spoken, but even Marie's bold forehead felt a glow
4a Shame. " Before I was married ! " Ah ! there was no need ol
economical contrivances then ! The phrase had a significance
and a pathos that reached the vain, world-hardened heart of
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
IIS
the summer friend. Reached — but not melted. The mem-
orv of the guileless school-fellow, her docile pupil and loving
slave ; the happy, popular daughter of a luxurious home ; the
passive instrument in her hands, when she urged the step that
had made her the broken-hearted woman she now saw before
her, all this stung Marie into a sort of impatient resentment
towards the one upon whose injuries it made her uncomfortable
to dwell.
Louise had settled down quietly again to her blocks, and
Maggie's patient features retained no mark of wounded feeling.
Outwardly, there was nothing Mrs. Lorraine could lay hold of
as a text for the lecture she had come to deliver. So, she had
to begin out of the abundance of her inborn discontent.
" My visit to-day is partly on business, Maggie. Clement
wanted me to see you and talk to you about the way Albert is
going on. It is really too bad that he should show such disre¬
gard of the feelings, and so neglect the interests of a brother,
who had sacrificed so much on his account. You must know
that his habits of dissipation are growing worse and worse."
She paused, but Maggie made no reply.
"I need scarcely remind you, Maggie, of what was your
husband's situation at the time of Clement's return from abroad.
But for his charity in taking Albert into his employment, when
every one else shunned him, you would have been homeless and
penniless long ago. But what sign of gratitude has Albert
ever showed to his benefactor ? I am sorry to say it to you,
but you ought to know that his behavior, from first to last, has
been unpardonable. Clement was too prudent to put him into
a position of much responsibility, but, few as were his oppor¬
tunities of betraying trust, he has contrived to do mischief ; has
bitten the hand that fed him. Only yesterday there came to
light a transaction which displayed such wanton carelessness on
his part, or intentional foul play, that the other members of the
120
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
firm have insisted upon Iiis discharge. Of course, Clement
could urge nothing against so necessary a measure."
Mamie's work fell from her hand.
OD
" O, Marie ! what will he do ? what will become of us ? "
" Just what I said to Clement, my dear Í And his answer
was, that it was high time Albert was forced to see the conse¬
quences of his evil practices. You cannot expect a man to
ruin himself, even for his own brother. Clement has exhibited
wonderful patience."
" I know it ! He befriended us when no one else did. I am
deeply grateful to him. But if lie would only give us one more
trial ! You have unbounded influence with him, Marie. Will
you not use it in our behalf? "
" Really, Maggie, you are going too far ! " returned Mrs.
Clement, in a tone of displeasure. " There are limits to every¬
thing. I feel an interest in you, and pity for your child ; but
I cannot deny that the alienation between Albert and myself is
now complete. I have been bitterly disappointed in him
throughout, and I could never yield my consent to his broth¬
er's further test of one he has found so unworthy. A little con¬
sideration would have taught, you the impropriety of your
request."
Maggie had taken her baby into her arms, and the tears fell
fast upon the sadly perplexed little face that looked up into
hers.
" My darling, this is dreadful news for you ! "
Mrs. Lorraine became more and more vexed, as she felt
herself growing uneasy at this scene.
" This is a most disagreeable task for me," she resumed.
" The thought of it has made me nervous all day. I told Clem¬
ent just how you would take it. I wish you had more energy,
more self-command, Maggie. This weak way of breaking
down under every trial has occasioned you a vast deal of
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
121
unliappiness. Clement ancl I were saying to-day, that if you
were a person of more character, of firmer will, you might do
much to guide your husband back to the right path. It is ah
ways a wife's fault, in part, if her husband throws himself
away. You ought to take a decided stand with Albert, and
say —11 will do thus and so ! I will not do that ! ' Your
passive, yielding disposition, has been your great snare in life."
" No one knows that better than you do, Marie ! " The
bruised, crushed, insulted creature, gathered strength to retort
from the very pain that racked her. " It was never more my
snare than when I weakly, wickedly allowed myself to be
persuaded by you and him, whom you then eulogized, as
much as you now condemn, into the private marriage that has
ruined me for time, if not for eternity. I was a sick, nervous,
unworldly child. You were a strong-minded, strong-willed
woman. I had leaned upon, and clung to you, until I had no
judgment of my own. You took me away from my father's
house, out of the hands of a loving, tender sister, whom I would
never, of myself, have estranged. You could argue, and I
could not. You coaxed and caressed, and I could never with¬
stand the entreaties of those I loved. From the hour when
you almost dragged me to the altar and encouraged me to re-
%/ oo o
peat the vows, I was too faint and terrified to comprehend, until
the present time, I have not had one moment of real happiness.
O, Marie ! Marie ! upon me has fallen all the punishment of
that rash, fatal step ; but surely, I was not the only one to
blame ! "
Mrs. Lorraine fairly lost her breath with wrathful astonish¬
ment. If the stones she trod upon in the streets had cried out
against her, she could hardly have marvelled more than at this
appeal from the meek, long-suffering friend of he? youth. Her
love for Maggie had waned so naturally, as it was overgrown
by other and more selfish interests, that she liad not noted the
11
122
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
liour of its death, had never confessed that it was no longer in
being. She had no difficulty in persuading herself that the
flame, she used to declare was deathless, had gone out like a
candle in a puff of wind, before the outburst of recrimination
from the " poor relation " she had insulted. In all the majesty
of offended dignity, she arose, and drew her India shawl about
her shoulders.
" If this is the state of your mind towards me, Mrs. Albert
Lorraine, it is useless, worse than useless, for me to prolong
this visit. I came here with the kindest intentions, to break as
gently as possible, intelligence that I thought would afflict you.
I offered my advice in the spirit that has ever characterized my
conduct towards you — a disinterestedness as pure, as I now
perceive that it was ill-directed. That your marriage has been
unfortunate, and mine happy, may be a source of mortification
to you ; but a sense of what is decent and becoming in a wife
ought, it seems to me, to prevent such a tirade of reproaches
as you have just launched at me. Since you choose to be inde¬
pendent of me, to despise my friendship, I have no disposition
to resist your decision. I hope that you and your husband
will be more prosperous without the aid of my husband and
myself, than you have been with it. Good afternoon ! "
Maggie had made no response as the incensed dame swept
from the room, shaking off the dust from her feet upon the
worn carpet, that could not have sustained any sensible damage
had the said dust been literal, instead of figurative. And this
was the flnale of an endless friendship.
husbands and homes.
123
CHAPTER XII.
For a long while after Mrs. Clement's departure, the mother
sat rocking her child in mute sorrow, holding the little figure
tightly to her breast with the bewildered, dizzy feeling, that it
was the one object upon earth to which she could cling, for
cling and twine such natures as hers must and will, until death
loosens the tendrils' hold.
Louise submitted to the silent embrace, without complaint.
She was a sensitive, affectionate babe, and had learned, at this
early age, that she wTas not only her mother's companion, but
her sole comfort. Now and then, the small hand stole quietly
up to the tear-stained cheek of her parent, and the pretty mouth
was held up for a kiss, and once she sighed —- a sound too full
of thought and sorrow to have its rise in so young a heart —
and murmured, half aloud, " Poor mamma ! "
Maggie's very infant pitied and fondled her. It was the
natural impulse with all who knew her, unless the kindlier feel¬
ings of humanity were dead or perverted within them. With
the twilight, came the summons to tea, and although sickening
at the thought of food, she arose with Louise in her arms, and
went down stairs. It was contrary to the landlady's rules to
have children at the table unless full price were paid for their
board ; but in consideration of Mr. Lorraine's frequent absen¬
ces, and hjs wife's valuable services with her needle, the
presence of Louise was graciously allowed by the presiding
genius of the inelegant feasts, and welcomed by most of the
121
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
boarders. It was especially agreeable to the " gentlemen,as
Mrs. Richards, the proprietress of the establishment, called
them, their interest in the engaging, well-behaved child being
enhanced by the respectful sympathy they felt for the neglected
wife and devoted mother. Maggie's meals were thus rendered
more tolerable than might have been expected by one in lier
unprotected position. Already she recognized her child's ben¬
eficent influence upon her daily life, and, in her more sanguine
moments, hoped that it might accomplish great things for her
in the future.
Having finished her slight repast, and seen that Louise's
appetite was satisfied, she wended her way up to the dismal
•' third story back," without waiting for her husband's return.
It was a rare circumstance, indeed, when the little girl's lips
received a good-night kiss from " papa." She knew almost all
of the men, who plied her with biscuits and sweet cakes down
stairs, better than she did him, and certainly loved several of
them more. Still, when she knelt at her mother's knee, after
she was undressed, and repeated the simple nursery prayer,
" Now I lay me clown to sleep,"
she added, by her teacher's dictation — " Pray God bless and
take care of dear papa and mamma ! " coupling the names upon
her tongue, if never within her heart. Soon she slept the happy
sleep of infancy, and Maggie could weep or work, uninter¬
rupted.
Scarcely an hour had been worn away in mechanical toil and
dreary musings, when a well-known tread upon the stair an¬
nounced the unexpectedly early arrival of her lord. The step
was heavy, but not firm. It had a peculiar, and even to unin¬
itiated ears, an unpleasant shuffle at every few paces, and Mag¬
gie's uneasy expression showed that it was no strange sound
to her. She had just time to hide her work and draw Louise's
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
125
cradle further into the shade and quite out of the way of any
one sitting by the hearth, when Lorraine fumbled at the door
for the lock. His wife opened it.
" Hullo, Mag ! " he said, chucking her under the chin, it's
well you let some light into that dirty hole of an entry. W hen
we get into our new house, there will be an end of such filthy
arrangements."
ö
He was half-intoxicated, according to his nightly custom
but he was in a good humor, which was a more uncommon
occurrence. When this was the case, he was boastful in proph¬
ecies of better — that is, richer days, predictions that had, long
ago, ceased even to tantalize his wife's imagination, much less
awaken any hopes of their fulfilment. She was only thankful
that his mood was not surly or violent. He was often both,
and abused her in terms of shocking vulgarity and profanity,
and, more than once, her timid attempts to pacify him had
brought down the weight of his heavy arm upon her shrinking
form. She bore it all ! she, the shy, delicate girl, who had
always trembled at a harsh word from the father, whose control,
by contrast with this ruffian's rule, seemed like the reign of
peace and gentleness. To whom could she complain ? Be¬
sides this man, she liad no protector in the wide world, and
cruel as were his tender mercies, she had no alternative but to
endure whatever he chose to lay upon her.
Every wife is dependent, no matter what may be her fortune
or strength of character, and seldom, indeed, even among those
who are styled " good husbands," are found those shining ex¬
amples to the rest of their sex and the world — men, who seek
to convert this dependence into a glory — who would esteem
it a lasting shame to themselves, if their wives had ever the
least occasion to look back longingly to lost liberty, or to spec¬
ulate se( re-fly, whether wifehood — after all that has been said
11*
126
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
and written to dignify it — be anything more than honorable
and licensed beggary.
Maggie had no speculations on the subject. She was the
abject slave of this one of the masters of creation, who lolled
before the fire in his arm-chair, bloated, and red-eyed ; his
breath hot and rank with brandy and tobacco ; rowdyish in
dress ; foul and blasphemous in talk ; such a sight as men de¬
spise, and angels weep to behold. He had never possessed any
refinement, except the polished surface, and the corroding
atmosphere of evil associations had joined to inward corruption
to destroy the thin crust.
He laughed aloud several times, after he took his seat, look¬
ing into the fire, and rubbing his swmllen hands in drunken
glee. At last he*spoke.
" Great news, old girl ! great news ! "
" Indeed ! " said Maggie, sadly, thinking how soon his mood
would change, when she summoned courage to tell her news.
" The best joke going ! Clem, has turned me out of doors !
given me my walking papers ! "
Maggie stared at him like one petrified. Was he really mad,
that he could jest at irrevocable ruin ?
He chuckled again. '*' Yes! genteelly kicked me out! He
couldn't do anything ungenteel, you know. Paid me my wages,
and threw in a moral lecture free gratis, and for nothing ! Says
I crook my elbow too often ! throw too many cards ! don't
attend to business ! am a disgrace and a nuisance. Pious saint,
he is ! Says he has given me six hundred a year ever since
he came home, just to keep me and you out of the almshouse ;
that I've done him a deal of harm, and no good. IIa ! ha ! I'm
glad to hear that I have hurt him a little, the sneaking, cant¬
ing hypocrite ! Wish I could have ruined him ! He says I
must never show my face in his house again. It's a better-
look ng phiz than his, that's one comfort. And now comes the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
127
fan of the thing. As I was coming up town, whom should I
meet but Jim Dolan, a first rate fellow, and a grand friend of
mine. So we turned into an oyster-saloon to take supper to¬
gether —» his treat, you understand. Before we got to the bot¬
tom of one glass, I told him what a fix I was in. fie brought
me a slap on the back that made me jump, and says he: ' Old
fellow, you are just the chap for my use ! ' "
But we are sick of writing, and we are sure that our readers
are of perusing this stuff, which, purified as it is, from the sense¬
less oaths interjected at every breath, still remains disgusting
slang. The sense of his communication, as nearly as Maggie
could make it out, was that this Dolan was the proprietor of a
gambling-house in St. Louis, a branch of one of longer standing
in New York, and had engaged him, Lorraine to act as door¬
keeper and decoy to the concern. The two worthies were to
set out for the West that night at twelve o'clock.
Maggie was stunned by the tidings. This shameless confes¬
sion of the nature of his calling ; the delight he expressed in
undertaking it, the jocular indifference with which he prepared
to leave her and his child, for weeks, perhaps for months, gave
Maggie a clearer realization than she had ever had before, of
the thorough perversion of every right sentiment ; the dead¬
ening of natural affection within him. Afraid to remon¬
strate, she set to work, by his directions, to collect and make
ready the clothes he was to take with him. He packed his
cigars, meerschaum, and a travelling case of liquors ; then re¬
seated himself, and smoked at his ease, while the weary, patient
woman attended to the rest. Once, as she was getting together
his socks and handkerchiefs, she opened the drawer where lay
the anonymous gifts, but she was too sick-hearted to display
them, and listen to his silly conjectures as to the giver. He
was very talkative, and evidently took to himself great credit
128
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
for endeavoring to keep her spirits up, under the approaching
affliction of parting with so exemplary a companion.
" Don't you think I met that scoundrel Cleveland, twice,
to-day ? " he said, by and by.
With all the vindictiveness of a mean nature, he had hated
John, since the day on which the latter had witnessed his cap¬
ture by Mr. Lawrence's agent, and his knowledge of Cleve¬
land's feelings towards Maggie, prior to the announcement of
her marriage, did not detract from this enmity. He never
named him without a curse and abusive term, and his wife
learned, at a very early period of their wedded life, that it was
dangerous to attempt the defence of her friend. She said noth¬
ing now, and he talked on. " The first time, I came upon him
in a fancy stor^ I don't mind letting you into the secrets of
my flirtations, once in a while, and I may as well say, out and
out, that I ate a philopena with a lady at a party the other
night, and she met me in the street to-day and caught me. So,
I stepped into this place, you see, to pick up some trifle to send
her, and, as I went in, I passed this puppy standing at the
front counter. lie did not see me, although I brushed right
by him. He was busy looking at baby-cloaks."
" Baby-cloaks ! " Maggie ejaculated, imprudently.
"Yes ! " bursting into a horse-laugh. " I guess he is train¬
ing up another wife to his hand, and means to begin, this time,
before she is out of long clothes. Hope she will serve him
exactly as you did ! When I came out, he was in the same
place, and had a blue cap or bonnet, or something of that kind
on his fist, studying it with a most solemncolly face. I vow it
wras the most ridiculous sight I ever saw in all my born days 1
But he was always a milk-sop and a spooney ! "
Maggie was kneeling by the trunk, with her back to her
husband. He could not see the convulsed featui es, or the great,
scalding drops, that bedewed the garments she was pretending
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
129
to pack. It was the bitterest moment of her life ; but how wag
he to suspect it ? How could he imagine that his down-trodden
thrall dared to compare his conduct, in letting his wife and
infant suffer for the necessary comforts of existence, while he
squandered his earnings upon the vile companion of his dis¬
reputable orgies, for thus, she rightly interpreted the errand
that took him to the store—-and the secret benefaction of the
one who, of all mankind, had most reason to despise her ?
" I met him to-night, face to face, right under a street-lamp,"
continued Lorraine. " Jim and I were walking, arm-in-arm,
and laughing fit to split our sides at one of Jim's stories. lie
is the wittiest dog in creation — Irish humor, you know. It
was at a crossing, and this rascal, seeing us coming, stepped
one side to give us a wide berth, afraid of sqjjpig his respect¬
ability, I suppose, if he touched a pair of jolly tipplers. I was
on the side next to him, and we looked one another straight in
the eyes. I saw his countenance change as he recognized me.
He turned as white as a sheet, and then his eye flashed, and
his lip curled as if he were a king, and I a hog in his path. I
tell you, I swore at him handsomely by name ; and if Dolan
had not held my arm so tight, I would have laid him in the
gutter in no time. There is an account to be settled between
us yet. I have not forgotten it, if he has ! "
Maggie's tears were all dried as she arose, and asked, steadily,
" what else there was to do ? "
" That's all, I guess. Upon my word, it's eleven o'clock ! I
haven't a second to lose. See here, old lady ! " (lie pulled out
his pocket-book), " I need every cent I can rake and scrape to
pay my expenses out West. Dolan would do it, he says, but
he is hard up, just now, for cash. Here is an X for you, to
keep that old she-dragon down stairs quiet until I can forwai d
more. When my fortune is made, we will sink her and her
pig-sty. I'll let you hear from me when I am settled, and. if
100
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
trade is brisk, maybe I'll send for you to come out and pass the
winter in St. Louis."
" IIow shall I direct my letters ? " asked Maggie.
" I can't say, yet. Don't write until you hear from me.
Good-by ! Don't cry your pretty eyes out, when I am gone ! "
He kissed lier, and ran noisily down stairs to send a porter
up for his trunk. Ten minutes later, it too was gone, and no
vestige of his recent presence remained in the room, except the
blended fumes of bad cigars and worse liquor. Maggie threw
up the windows that the noxious air might not poison her child,
then tucked the cradle-blanket closely about the tender little
throat.
" He forgot you, my angel ! " she murmured. "He left no
kiss for his ba^Jp, but never mind, darling ! You and your
mother are left to one another, and lie will soon forget me
too ! "
There was no philosophy in this calm calculation of a possi¬
bility that would have wrung blood from the heart of most
wives. It was unfeigned apathy, the candid expression of one
whose love for her husband had never been more than a girl¬
ish fancy, fostered, if not engendered by the representations of
a wily and dangerous friend, and which, being formed only for
holiday use, had soon worn out. She felt lonely and forsaken,
as the midnight chimes rang out, but her thoughts turned to
other days and. other associates.
Deep would have been Lorraine's wrath, and bitter his im¬
precations, if he had known that his wife's last look that night,
was at the identical cloak and hat he had ridiculed Cleveland
for buying, and the only tears she shed after his going, were
(hose that filled her eyes, as she whispered-— " If I should die,
there is one noble heart that would not let my baby starve, for
the sake of what her mother once was ! "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
13!
CHAPTER XIII.
If Lorraine did not forget the helpless pair he had left hi
the u she-dragon's " den, he took no pains to assure them of his
continued remembrance. A month rolled by, and the prom¬
ised letter did not arrive. The meagre morsel he had given
his wife wherewith to appease the rapacity of the monster, as
he chose to consider the industrious woman whose leniency to
him and his far exceeded his deserts, was paid over within two
days after he left, and Maggie, now thrown entirely upon her
own resources, was so far confidential with the landlady as to
inform her of her penniless state until her husband should send
her money, and solicit, through her, work of the other boarders.
To the honor of human nature be it said, that they not only
responded cordially to the appeal, but the men, most of them
clerks with slender salaries, privately raised a purse among
themselves, and presented it to Mrs. Richards in liquidation of
the claim upon the Lorraines. Maggie's gift of acquiring
friends had not deserted her, and, although exerted uncon¬
sciously, still had its effect upon those who were brought into
communication with her.
Mrs. Richards had a homely face and a harsh voice, but she
was by no means unpopular with the majority of her mixed
household. She could drive a bargain with the keenest man of
business there. She could ill afford to lose a dollar, and she never
did, without a vigorous effort to secure it. She despised Lor¬
raine, as a " good-for-nothing loafer," a " would-be swell," and
132
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
a " real cheat," and would have bundled him out of the house
upon the first pay-day, but for the unoffending sufferers in lieï
third-story back. Louise was the only baby in the house, and
reminded her of one she had lost twenty years before, and she
made no secret, except in Maggie's hearing, of her opinion
that poor Mrs. Lorraine was a martyr, and was " paying dearly
for lier foolishness in having married that dissipated, lazy hus¬
band of hers." It is certain that she would not have given
Maggie notice to quit, had the board remained unpaid, but as
it was, she was very glad that she was not the loser by this
fresh villany on the part of one whom she now regarded as an
absconded debtor.
So the month had passed—a week—a fortnight followed
it — and there were no tidings of the absentee, and Maggie
began to look forward with serious forebodings to the Spring
and the probable event it would bring, the trial for which she
could make so little preparation. Each day diminished the
chance that she would be able to go to her husband, should he
send for her, and if he failed to supply her with the means of
paying her daily expenses, what was to become of her ?
" The burningest shame I ever knew ! " said Mrs. Richards
to her daughter, one morning, as the two were clearing away
the breakfast things. "And I have seen my full share of the
wrong side of this life. I don't believe that rogue has the least
O O
idea of coming back. He has turned that poor young thing
loose upon the world to pick up her living as she can. lie
can't abide me, but he isn't too nice to leave his family upon
my charity. It just amounts to that, for he doesn't know that
she ever took in sewing, or that the boarders have raised a
subscription."
" I wonder how her rich relations would take it if they knew
all ! " remarked the daughter. " To my uotiow thev are as
much to blame as he is."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
133
•'No, they aren't. She offended and disgraced them by a
secret marriage with this disrespectable fellow. I've heard it
said that they never guessed that he was even courting her,
until he was taken up for some rascality — robbing his employ¬
er., or some such thing— and she went into highsterics about
7 o o
it, and lo, and behold ! they had been married two months, and
nobody the wiser, except Mrs. Clement Lorraine — Miss Du¬
pont she was then. He was living with the Lawrences, and
they would not prosecute him, although he had robbed them of
several hundred dollars. 'Twould have been better for her if
he had been sent to Sing Sing for ten years. Her father is a
proud, high-tempered man, they say, and he vowed she should
never cross his threshold again, and none of the family would
have anything to do with this Lorraine. I've heard that her
married sister would receive her any day she would leave him;
but he would never let her go near them. I dare say they
take it for granted that she is well enough off, seeing that he
had a situation with his brother. She behaved very impru¬
dent—there's no denying that — but she has found out that
the way of the transgressor is hard. I think her mother would
pity her, if she could see her now."
" A gintleman, ma'am ! " said the maid-of-all work, at the
door.
There was no mistaking him for anything but a gentleman,
thought Mrs. Richards, as she stepped into the hall where he
stood.
He bowed respectfully. " Mrs. Richards, I believe ! "
" Yes, sir."
" Have you a lady amongst your boarders by the name of
Lorraine ? "
" I have, sir. Lier parlor is No. 12, thirL stoiy back—-or
stay ! Nor ah ! show this gentleman up to Mrs. Lorraine s room Y
Maggie felt unusually depressed this morning. Lier strength
12
134
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
was giving way under tlie unintermitting strain upon body and
mind. She had no appetite, and Mrs. Richards' best food was
not tempting to an invalid. She took up her sewing as soon as
she returned to her room ; but her hands trembled with ner¬
vous exhaustion, and her temples throbbed with such pain that
she was fain to close her eyes and rest her brow upon the
work-stand before her. She did not raise it until Norah fol¬
lowed up her knock at the door by throwing it open, and call¬
ing out in her broadest brogue :
o o
" Mrs. Lorraine ! here's a gintleman to see ye ! "
And lifting her frightened, haggard face, Maggie saw Will
Ainsiie standing on the threshold.
Forgotten now was the part he had taken in exiling her
from his house as her parents had done from theirs ; forgotten
his long, cruel silence ; his seeming forgetfulness of her exist¬
ence, his slights to her husband and child 1 She only thought of
this goodness in the past, and her base requital of it all.
Springing forward with a scream of mingled joy and anguish,
she fell upon her knees at his feet.
" Will ! Brother ! Oh, forgive me ! "
She remembered nothing more distinctly, until she found
herself stretched upon the hard sofa, and Mrs. Richards' faca,
wet with tears, bending over her.
" Mrs. Richards ! " she said, faintly. £: Oh, I have had such
a sweet, blessed dream ! "
" It was not a dream, dear Maggie ! " Will came forward
from behind the couch. " I have come to take you home — to
your own old home, where you can stay as long as you like."
Maggie smiled and sat upright, like one who has quaffed a
potent cordial.
" But — " added Will, seriously and cautiously. " It will be
a sad visit to you — to us all. Can you bear sorrow, hc.h.eï
than you did joy, just now ? "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
135
" 1 ought to be able to do so," rejoined she, involuntarily,
speaking out the thought that arose in her mind. " I am used
to suffering."
" But this trial is an unexpected one. Your father died
suddenly last night ! "
" Died ! " repeated Maggie, clasping her hands. " Died !
and I never made my peace with him ! " She burst into
tears.
Will had no comfort to give her. Mr. Boylan's attack had
been severe from the commencement. He had sustained severe
losses in trade that had depressed him much for a fortnight
past, and probably tended to bring on a fit of apoplexy. He
did not speak coherently from the moment of his seizure until
his death, which occurred six hours afterwards. It was a ter¬
rible stroke to the family. Mrs. Boylan had borne it best of all,
to the surprise of those around her. It was her proposition
and earnest request, that the disowned daughter should be sent
for.
" Dear mamma ! " said Maggie, as she heard this. " I have
never doubted that she loved me." Then, as she observed
Will's pained look, she continued, putting her hand within his :
" I have blamed none of you, dear brother. I had forfeited
your esteem, abused your confidence, deceived you in every
respect. I was no more worthy to be counted as one of your
number."
This lowliness of spirit had in it no savor of affectation, and
before it the feeble remains of Will's just displeasure against
the truant faded into air.
When he drew in his smoking horses before the late resi¬
dence of his father-in-law, and lifted out the pale, trembling
daughter and her infant, lie was as truly her knight and stanch
defender as of yore, resolved to maintain her cause to the last,
though Marian herself should be his opponent.
136
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Tiny and Marian were with their mother in her room, and
while both heard the subdued bustle of arrival in the lower
hall, and knew what it portended, neither stirred to receive the
new comers. There was, instead, a perceptible toss of Tiny's
head, ever ready to execute this movement, and a hardening
of Marian's features into inflexibility of resolution. Both
women were proud in their way, and Maggie's career had
been to them the most deadly mortification, the heaviest sorrow
of their lives. They imagined her changed into such a charac¬
ter as befitted Lorraine's wife and Marie Dupont's scholar,
and for this creature, Marian's dislike was fully as inveterate
as Tiny's. Each, rapidly and silently, reviewed the circum¬
stances of her union with the thief and gambler, the consterna¬
tion, distress, the disgrace that ensued to themselves, and the
twain tacitly determined that, so far as they were concerned,
the exile should be to all intents and purposes, an exile still.
Forgetting the awful commentary upon human pride that lay
in the adjoining apartment, they arose together as they heard
Will's voice upon the stairs, and stood — one stern, the other
scornful — to meet the shameless intruder.
The door unclosed softly, and there entered, upon Will's
arm, a drooping figure, her countenance so marked and seamed
with sorrow, so eloquent of humble entreaty, as she beheld the
mother and sisters she had deserted, that even the vain Tiny
was surprised into tears. Mrs. Boylan opened lier arms, and
lier wanderer fell within them. For some moments, the sound
of low weeping filled the chamber. Then, Will, whose affec¬
tionate heart was ever yearning for the blessing denied to his
otherwise happy home — the music of childish steps and baby
voices — set Louise upon his wife's knee.
The little one gazed into her aunt's face, with the innocent
wonder, the clear, confiding look that had characterized her
mother's expression in the early days Marian remembered sa
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
137
faithfully. She caught the unconscious peacemaker to her
heart with a burst of emotion that swept clown the vails oí
resentment and haughtiness at once and forever.
Maggie remained at her mother's until after the funeral.
uo
When everything was done to show respect to the dead that
the living could perform, the Ainslies took their newly-regained
relative to their home. She was sadly in need of such rest
and nursing as Marian was ready to give. In the perfect
revulsion of feeling common with persons of strong affections,
united to strength of will, she was eager to efface from Maggie's
mincl all past unkindness by present benefits ; willing to con¬
fess that she had been unjust, implacable, inhuman, as she
surveyed the wreck her husband had brought back to the fold.
But this Maggie would not allow. The fault had been hers —
oo
all hers —- she persisted in declaring. They were only too
good to receive her again. She revived rapidly, now that she
was restored to an atmosphere of luxury and love.
" But I fear that her constitution is terribly shattered," said
*/ J
Mrs. Ainslie, to her husband, when Maggie had spent some
ten days with them. " I more than suspect that wretch of
a Lorraine of maltreating her. She will not say a word against
him ; but she acknowledged, when I cpiestioned her, that ihe
liad not heard from him since he left, two months ago ! Think
of that !"
" I have thought of it, and of many other things, as bad, and
worse, which it is as well you knew too," responded Will. " I
have had a talk, to-day, with that Mrs. Richards, who, Maggie
says, was so kind to her. Ah, Marian, we are bitterly punished
for our harshness to the poor, erring child ! "
" Do not say £ our ! ' " said his wife, generously, seeing him
pause to gather self-control. " While her own father forbade
the mention of her name in his presence, you begged me to see,
or at least write to her, and tell her that we would befriend her,
12*
138
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
whenever she needed help or comfort. I would not do it. I
was outraged at the discovery of the systematic deception
practised upon us, and ready to believe her as bad as the rest
And then, John's broken heart ! But it was wrong, and it was
all my doing. Now, what have you heard ? "
It was a long, sad story, one with which the reader is better
acquainted than was honest Mrs. Richards ; but she knew
enough, and had revealed sufficient to Mr. Ainslie to fill his
soul with grief and indignation, and to extort from Marian
exclamations of horror and anger as the recital proceeded.
" One thing is settled ! " she said. " She must stay with us
this winter, until her husband (how I detest to call him so !)
returns."
" Then you are willing to resign her and that sweet babe to
him when he chooses to claim them ? " asked Will.
" Willing ! not I ! Still, if she wishes to go with him, how
can we hinder it ? "
" We cannot, if she really prefers a residence with him to
the home we offer. I am much mistaken if she has any affec¬
tion for him. We will not borrow trouble. He may be so
enamored of Western life as never to honor us with his pres¬
ence again."
" I hope so, most devoutly ! " said Marian. "There is but
one drawback to her living with us. What is to be done about
John's visits? The dear fellow has no other home,you know."
" Let him come as he has always done ! " returned Will,
boldly. "No one dare speak ill of her while she is under my
roof."
" That may be, yet it may not be pleasant for them to meet,
When did you hear from him ? "
" This morning. He will return to-morrow or next day. I
merely wrote to him of your father's death, without saying
anything of Maggie — "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
139
lie was interrupted by the entrance of the person last named
She held Louise by the hand ; but no sooner had that young
lady espied her uncle than she left her mother, and ran to him
with uplifted arms.
" Take me, take me, Uncle Will ! "
He obeyed, saying, as he swung her to his shoulder : " How
are mamma and Louise, to-night ? "
" Mamma is pretty well. Louise is hoarse, I think," said
Maggie. " She is subject to the croup, and I am alarmed
whenever she takes cold."
" Hoarse ! I do not notice it. Let me listen, my small
lady ! "
Pie laid his ear to her chest with physician-like gravity, an
attention which she recognized by clutching a double handful
of hair, and laughing out so clearly that Marian decided the
hoarseness to be all a fancy of " mamma's." Then ensued a
game of romps, that lasted until dinner-time.
" The evening is stormy," observed Marian, as they repaired,
after their meal, to the family gathering-room, the library.
" l es. There is every promise of an old-fashioned snow¬
storm," said her husband. " Maggie, will cigar-smoke irritate
Louise's lungs ? "
Maggie looked up amazed. She had been so long unused
to these " small, sweet courtesies of life," that they seemed
strange to her.
" What an idea ! " She smiled. " It will not hurt her, and
if there were any danger, I would send her out. You should
not postpone your cigar."
" But I would} with the greatest pleasure imaginable. What
is the best weed that was ever manufactured, compared with
her company ? Come to me, monkey, and mount my foot«
Steady, now î ' Bide a high horse to Banbury cross ! ' "
He was in the midst of the rhyme, and Louise shouting with
140
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
delight at her rapid flight, when, without a note of preparation,
John Cleveland walked in !
He stopped short upon seeing Maggie. She was smiling at
the frolic in progress, and the warmth of the room had called
up a faint color into her cheeks. Seen but imperfectly as she
was, in John's sudden transition from the darkness without to
the brightness that surrounded her, she seemed to him the same
merry, rosy girl that had made this snug retreat an Elysium
for him, on his birthnight, three years before. Time sped
backwards, sweeping into oblivion the sorrow that had made
him old, while yet in his prime. He advanced one step and
stretched out his hand to greet her. The motion dissolved the
spell. As Maggie perceived him, a shadow from her mourning-
dress appeared to spread over her face. She endeavored to
rise, but her limbs failed her. She was literally dumb with
the shame and woe of awakened memories.
The scene was inexpressibly trying to all, and when Will,
in his haste to set himself with the rest at ease, presented his
laughing playfellow to bis bachelor friend, Marian nearly
groaned aloud. " The very worst thing he could have done ! "
John took the child into his arms, kissed her gently — it
almost seemed, reverently — and gave her back to her uncle ;
then turned to Mrs. Ainslie.
" I was grieved to hear of your loss, my dear madam. You
have my sincere sympathy. How is your mother ? I feared
the blow might overcome her."
While Marian replied Maggie had an opportunity to recover
her confused senses, and Will leisure to prepare a series of
questions that should prevcy.it any more awkward pauses.
" I did not look for you before to-morrow night, at the earli¬
est," he said. " How did you happen to drop in upon us, so
like a visitor from cloud-land ? "
u X reached Albany a day sooner than I expected, and hur«
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
141
rying through my business there, came down in the afternoon
train. I had no baggage except a carpet-bag, and when 1
found myself at your station, the temptation to alight and
shake hands with you was too strong for my better judgment."
"You obeyed your better judgment in getting off!" said
Marian, kindly. "And you have had nothing to eat since
noon — have you ? "
" I am not hungry — "
" But you ought to be i I will see that something is pre¬
pared directly. We have just left the table. Not another
syllable ! I am mistress here ! "
She cut short refusals and expostulations by quitting the room.
" Who can that be ! " marvelled Mr. Ainslie, as the door-bell
rang furiously. " It is early for calls, and so stormy, too !
Another peal ! You made less noise when you arrived, John ! "
" Because Katy happened to open the door to draw the mat
out of the snow as I came up the steps," was the reply.
" She has grown deaf since," said Will, as a third summons
made his ears tingle. " I will let in this importunate visitor
myself."
He put Louise down, and v/ent to admit the guest or mes¬
senger. A tall man, muffled in a travelling cap and cloak,
stood without in the driving snow.
" Walk in, sir ! " said Mr. Ainslie, with instinctive kindness.
He could not have suffered a strange dog to remain in such a
tempest while he had a shelter to offer him.
The man stamped and kicked his boots to rid them of the
snow, ho ding his head down during the operation, and ac¬
cepted the invitation by entering the hall. It was not until
Will shut the door and turned to address his visitor again, that
O 7
the latter removed his cap, and tossing back the mass of hair
that overhung his brows, said roughly : " I want to see my
wife, sir — Mrs. Lorraine ! "
142
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Dismayed as lie was by the unwelcome apparition, Mr.
Ainslie liad self-possession enough to say—-"If you will step
in here, sir" — showing him into the front parlor — "I will
inform her that you have arrived."
Sorely perplexed, he forthwith sought his prime counsellor,
his wife, who was busied in superintending John's impromptu
repast. A hasty sentence told her what had occurred, and
agreeing with him that not a moment was to be lost, she left
her unfinished task, and prepared to accompany him back to
the library.
Lorraine, left to himself during this conjugal conference,
was not disposed to wait idly. In his perturbation, Will had
not thought to light the gas, and as he shut the door when he
went out, the gambler sat in total darkness. The library was
divided from the parlors by an arch, closed always, during the
evenings, by sliding doors of stained glass. These, gayly il¬
luminated by the chandelier and fire-light beyond them, caught
Lorraine's attention immediately. She whom he sought was
probably in that family sanctum. By a single bold manœuvre
lie could upset whatever nonsensical designs her relatives might
have of preparing her to receive him, according to their ideas
of his demerits. It was all very dignified and proper to leave
him here in the dark, while they instructed her in her lesson,
but he would show them that he was not to be trifled with in
that styl^. He crept softly to the lighted doors and tried to
hear what was going on in the other room. All was still.
The truth was, that John and Maggie would have esteemed al¬
most any interruption, save the one that now menanced them,
a welcome relief from the embarrassment of their present po¬
sition. Neither had spoken since they were thoughtlessly left
together, and Maggie doubted her ability to accomplish the
retreat she longed to attempt. Louise stood leaning on her
mother's Hp, her great, brown eyes riveted upon the stranga
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
143
gentleman — their solemn stare adding to his uncomfortable
sensations.
Lorraine pushed one of the sliding leaves ba< b, cautiously
and without noise, so that it left a narrow crack in his screen,
and listened again.
"Is she a healthy child? She looks delicate," said a voice,
that, constrained as it was, sent a thrill through the whole
body of the jealous eavesdropper.
" Tes — that is — she is quite well, thank you ! ' answered
Maggie, hurriedly. " Louise, daughter ! bid Mr. -——, the
gentleman, 4 good-night.' It is time for you to go up stairs."
As Mr. and Mrs. Ainslie made their appearance from the
hall, the inner doors were shoved rudely back, and Lorraine
confronted his wife and Mr. Cleveland, who had arisen simul¬
taneously at the crash. 'One glimpse of his fierce, dark face
caused Marian to throw herself before her sister and the child,
while Will advanced to his friend's side.
" And this is why I was told to wait until you, my fine lady,
were informed that I was here ! " commenced Lorraine, chok¬
ing with rage. " Your gallant was to have a chance to clear
out before I caught sight of him ! "
"Marian!" said Will, authoritatively, "take Maggie and
the child out of this room ! "
" Stir, if you dare ! " vociferated Lorraine to his wife. 44 I
came for you and your brat, and"—with a horrid oath —441
mean to have you, alive or dead. I'll show you who your mas¬
ter is ! I'll teach you to play these tricks while I am away ! "
44 Be quiet, John ! " Mr. Ainslie held back his partner.
44 He is her husband, and as such, entitled to an explanation, it
matters not in what terms he may choose to demand it. You
may not be aware, Mr. Lorraine, of Mr. Boylan's death.
Mrs. Lorraine was sent for to attend his funeral."
"As if I didn't know all that! What else brought iae
1 il
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
East in sucîi a hurry, but seeing the notice of the old man's
death in the papers ? And, no sooner do I reach New Ork,
than I hear that the stingy old curmudgeon never mentioned
Iiis youngest daughter's name in his will, and that she, forsooth,
is staying up the river at her brother-in-law's, licking the boots
of the people who have cheated her out of lier just rights !
And then "— his countenance gathering malignity, as he pro¬
ceeded — " I find her holding a private conversation with
this "— Here followed a string of opprobrious epithets.
" Marian, ring that bell ! " ordered Will, struggling to ap¬
pear calm. "If you utter another word such as those that have
just insulted these ladies, sir, I will order in my gardener and
have you put out of the house. Every syllable was a false¬
hood, and you know it ! "
In a second the bully had drawn a revolver and levelled it
at Mr. Ainslie's head; the next, Maggie rushed frantically for¬
ward and caught the barrel of the weapon. It was a frightful
risk, but the finger that held the trigger was unnerved by
liquor and passion, and the action of his wife's lost him his
hold. Before he could regain it, John tore the pistol from him,
and the gardener, a burly Irishman, who had run up-stairs at
the imperative ring, took an unauthorized share in the affray
by approaching the belligerent in the rear, and passing his
muscular arms around Lorraine's, pinioned him tightly. The
women-servants likewise came to their mistress's assistance,
and while one carried Louise from the room, the other aided
Mr. Ainslie to lift Maggie from the floor. Marian had broken
her fall, but she lay in strong hysterical convulsions. Lorraine
ceased his efforts to liberate himself, as they carried her past
him. He followed her with a half-terrified, fascinated gaze,
until she was lost to his sight, and stood passive in the embrace
of his captor, silent if not cowed. The evil spark glowed
again in his sullen eye, when Mr. Ainslie reappeared.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
145
" You have treated me very hospitably to-night, sir," he said,
scorn fully; "in quite a brotherly manner, I may say. It is
no more than I should have expected from you two gentlemen,
and I sha'n't forget it in a hurry. Three against one is very
fair odds in your code of honor."
" Michael, let him go ! " commanded Will.
The gardener obeyed, but remained conveniently near his
late prisoner.
" I have but one question more to ask you," pursued Lor¬
raine. " Am I to have my wife and child peaceably, or shall
I go to law for them ? "
" You cannot have them to-night, assuredly. Neither of
them is fit to go out in this weather. Whether you ever regain
possession of them will depend upon the success that Mrs. Lor¬
raine's friends have in inducing her to apply for a divorce.
Such an application will not be denied by any court in the
land."
" You are very candid ! " sneered Lorraine. " When I have
had my say before that same court, I flatter myself that it will
grant me a divorce from her, whatever may be the verdict in
her case. There is justice for husbands as well as wives ! "
" If you make another such insinuation, I will throw you out
of the window ! " Will's temper had gained the ascendency at
last. " Go to law as soon as you like, and see what you can
do ! For I declare to you, that sooner than resign to you the
two unfortunate creatures who are now, thank Heaven ! under
my protection, I would shoot you with as little compunction as
I would a mad dog. I had rather trust a woman and child in
a tiger's den than with you. Michael, wait upon the gentle¬
man down to the depot. Don't lose sight of him until you see
him off for the city ! "
" All right, sir ! "
Lorraine was beginning to feel dull from the reaction of the
13
146
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
fiery draught he had swallowed, both in New York and in the
village below. He offered no objection, beyond a growled
curse, to his proposed escort, and wheeled heavily to leave the
room.
" My pistol ! " he said, thickly, to John, who still held it.
" I shall keep it, for the present ! " was the brief rejoinder.
" As you like ! I suppose another will send you to perdition
quite as well ! "
These were his parting words. After they set off, Will
heard from the gate Michael's friendly admonition : " Be aisy,
now ! Shu re, can't ye fale that there's no fight left in ye ? and
isn't a sober man a match for two dhrunken ones, any day ? "
Clement Lorraine was as cautious as his brother was reck¬
less ; avaricious of gain as he was extravagant ; moral in the
eyes of the community as he was profligate ; diligent in business,
as Albert was indolent. It was not surprising, then, that his
sleigh should be the first vehicle that broke the snow in the
avenue leading from Mrs. Dupont's mansion, on the morning
succeeding the opening storm of the season. His wife was on
O 1 O
a visit to her mother, and although he grumbled in a smothered
tone, which was all he ventured to clo in Marie's hearing, when
he thought of the cold, slow ride to the depot, he never thought
of shirking it. That way business lay-—and after fortifying
himself by a hot and hearty breakfast, he stepped into the nest
of fur robes provided for him, and bade the driver " hurry on,
or he might lose the train."
The snow was deep, but they made tolerable speed, and were
descending the last and steepest hill on the route, when one of
the horses stumbled slightly over what looked like a drift in -.lie
road, and as the sleigh struck the same, the rider experienced
an uncomfortable jolt. He looked back naturally to ascertain
the cause, and there, just apparent above the trampled snow,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
147
probably tossed up by the horse's hoof, was a human hand !
In less time than it takes me to relate it, the two men had dug
out, into plain view, a stark and ghastly corpse ; the features,
so lately inflamed by anger and intemperance, frozen into marble
whiteness, and the open eyes staring blankly into his brother's
face !
The tale of his wanderings, after the faithful Michael had
seen him upon " a down train," was easily surmised. He had
left the cars at the next station, with the design of going up to
Mrs. Dupont's, whether because he knew that his brother was
there and hoped to gain something by an appeal to him, or
from some cloudy impression that he would be welcomed in
his old haunts, could not be known. In his condition, the sequel
was inevitable, unless he were rescued by some passing trav¬
eller, and the fury of the night kept sane people at home. As
fools live, he had lived ; as fools die, he died. The shuddering
hand of charity draws a veil over the dread awaking that suc¬
ceeded to the deep, fatal slumber in that snowy bed.
News of the event was dispatched to the wife of the deceased,
but he had lain in his grave three weeks before she received
the message. As might have been foreseen, the shock of her
husband's appearance and conduct on that terrible night, was
too great for one in her delicate state of health. During many
days of suffering, fever, and delirium, Marian watched, and
-Mrs. Boylan wept by her bedside, expecting that each hour
would be her last. Excellent nursing and medical skill, rather
than strength of constitution, won back the fluttering life. When
she again moved through the house, the mere ghost of her for¬
mer self, a widow's cap shaded her young forehead, and a little
mound, beside the resting-place of the unhappy father, covered
the babe whose first painful breath of mortal life was also its
last.
MS
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
CHAPTER XIV.
Maögie Jived for two years with her mother ; the com pan«
ion, nurse, comforter of her declining years, while Tiny, who
had awaited impatiently the close of the conventional twelve¬
month of seclusion, again flitted through the gay world, a piti¬
ful caricature of juvenility, with false roses blooming where she
used to say the natural ones never flourished ; false hair wreath¬
ing her restless head, and false smiles contending hopelessly
with real querulousness for Ihe mastery in her expression. Her
devotion to the society that had so poorly requited her lavish
expenditure of time and pains, by persistently denying her life's
chief end — a husband; her many absences from home and
selfish engrossment in her own concerns when there, were the
principal causes of her amazement at the tidings communicated
to her by Marian, one day, in the third year of Maggie's widow¬
hood. Her indignation and ilhdissembled chagrin had their
source in emotions thoroughly comprehended by herself alone.
Even Marian, who knew her failings so well, was surprised at
the energy of her disapproval.
" It is perfectly shameful ! really outrageous ! " she protested
vehemently. " All second marriages are abominable, and ought
to be prohibited by law ; but I should have thought that Mag¬
gie's matrimonial scrapes had created enough talk in their day
without her setting the public all agog again, by this piece of
impropriety. That is the way with all these so-called amiable
people. They are shallow-hearted — every one of them — and
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
143
fickle as the wind. She might wait until her weeds are fairly
worn out. And after risking and losing everything for the
sake of marrying lier first husband ! I never heard the equal
of this in my life — never ! "
Marian had greatly improved since the beginning of our
acquaintance with her. If Maggie had gained strength and
wisdom from her trials, the sorrows that had fallen more lightly
upon her married sister had rendered her less caustic and more
forbearing with the foibles and errors of others. She would,
still, when Tiny became intolerable — particularly if Maggie
were her victim — leave the quiet walks of argumentative per¬
suasion, and encounter her upon her own ground, although
with weapons of sharper edge and finer polish ; but to-day, her
mood was pacific. She liad brought to the interview a goodly
stock of patience, and there were softening emotions at work in
her bosom, aroused by the event she liad engaged to announce,
that kept down any disposition to retort angrily upon Tiny's
tirade.
" ou forget, Tiny, that Mr. Lorraine was never the man
of Maggie's unbiassed choice. Marie Dupont made the match,
and hurried the poor girl on to her destruction so insidiously,
that she had no time to reflect upon or realize lier real position,
until it was too late. I have often thought, with grief and
remorse, of our want of watchfulness over her inexperience j
how cruelly negligent we were in leaving her so much to the in¬
fluence of associates we knew to be doubtful — if nothing worse."
" I don't blame myself ! Not one bit ! She had twice the
care that /ever had."
"Anda hundred temptations where you had one," thought
Marian. " I believe," she said, aloud, " that if she had been
allowed to follow the promptings of her own heart, she would
have preferred Mr. Cleveland to Lorraine, up to the moment
of her marriage."
13*
150
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" Pretty morality, that, in your pattern saint ! " interrupted
Tiny.
Marian favored her with a steady gaze fully two minutes
long, and went on.
" As to the impropriety of her accepting him now, and the
caudal of a spiteful world, the most malicious can say no more
of them than is said every day of other second marriages. The
character of both parties is above reproach. Nothing except
the meanest envy can find occasion for sneers in the contem¬
plated union, and the pure and good always rise superior to
such attacks."
" I don't see how she can have the face to accept him, when
he knows all the circumstances of the life she led in New York,
and what a brute that Lorraine was ! "
" He loves her the better for every sorrow she has borne.
Your remark shows how little you know of John's real char¬
acter," said Marian, her eye kindling with enthusiasm. "I
wonder, and so does Maggie, that his affection should have
survived the knowledge of her insincerity towards him, and
her clandestine marriage, convinced though he was that she
was the tool of others. Maegie has told me, in her sweet,
O O 1 7
beautiful humility, how unworthy she felt herself to be of this
magnanimity, this undying love. John and I had a long, frank
talk about this, last night. He recognizes and appreciates the
ennobling and purifying effect of her afflictions upon her; a
lustre which, he says, throws a gleam over the memory of the
darkest, saddest passages of her life. He denies, indignan Jy,
that there is anything meritorious in his constancy. He never
loved any other woman, he declares, and from the first hour of
their meeting, it has seemed as natural to love her as to
breathe."
Tiny was standing at the window, drumming a quick tat toe
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
151
oil the sill. Marian, absorbed in her subject, did not think of
or care for the sympathy of her auditor.
" Dear little Louise ! " she continued. " How happy she
will be ! She has never known what a father's care is. Will
is crazy to adopt her, but John will not hear of it. Did I ever
tell you, Tiny, the pretty little incident which Maggie repeated
to me, about John's chancing to see her walking one day with
Louise, during that lonely, struggling winter ? Maggie did not
observe him, but he was near enough to notice how beautiful
the child was, and how worn and thin her cloak looked. So,
the great-hearted fellow —- "
But Tiny had bounced out of the room, and her heels were
clattering up the stairs to her chamber, where the false roses
were soon washed out by real tears of disappointment and
mortification. With the tenacity of spinsterly desperation, she
had hoped to the last, and the last had now come.
Incredible as it may appear to those not versed in the edify¬
ing exhibitions of forgiveness and forgetfulness that may be
witnessed every day in polite circles, when a change of fortune
has altered the position of the offending party, among the first
cards left for Mrs. Cleveland were those of Mr. and Mrs.
Clement Lorraine. And Maggie periled her reputation for the
Christian graces, in which every fashionable dame should be a
proficient, by never returning the call, or inviting the Lorraines
to her parties — a shocking breach of decorum, accounted for
by Mrs. Clement to her friends, with a melancholy and resigned
air — " Ah ! my dear ! the ingratitude of some persons is
enough to embitter one against the whole human race ! "
o o
Mrs. Boy Ian resided with the Clevelands until her death.
She lived to see two other golden heads cluster, with Louise,
around her knees, while a chorus of infant tongues called off
her eyes from the last novel, by importunities for nursery-
ballads and sugar plums. Of these, her memory and her capa-
152
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
clous pocket were unfailing reservoirs, and very cheerfully did
both surrender their riches An inefficient mother often makes
a popular granddame, and Maggie's children loved theirs as the
gentlest, most indulgent of baby-spoilers.
Tiny grew younger every year. Her share of her father's
estate, although not a fortune, was near enough to one to invite
the closer inspection of a money-loving swain, whose principal
matrimonial disadvantages were, first, his youth, he being ten
years the junior of his inamorata; secondly, his poverty, inas¬
much as he was only a clerk in a retail dry goods store ; thirdly,
fourthly, and fifthly, his paucity of good looks, intelligence, and
breeding. But Tiny could not afford, at this late date, to be
fastidious. She caught him, like a gudgeon, as he was, at the
sea-side ; brought him home at her chariot-wheels, and mar¬
ried him in six weeks thereafter. Ile has proved himself the
master of one art, that of saving money, and of another — a
rarer accomplishment — that of carrying his point against a
scolding wife, by sheer doggedness of purpose and' obstinate
silence. Tiny stays at home and minds the house, while he is
abroad adding dollar by dollar to his hoards. Pie will be a
lich man in twenty years, say his friends, and then his sexa¬
genarian spouse may begin " to enjoy life."
LEAH MOORE'S TRIAL.
CHAPTER I.
In writing the history of the married life of my very deaf
and lamented friend, Leah Moore, I am moved, I trust, by no
revengeful spirit towards the authors of her un happiness ; still
less am I actuated by any delusory hope that word or lessen
of mine, be it conveyed directly, or under the guise of fiction,
may succeed in exciting contrition in the bosom of the principal
agvnt in the evil work it is my task to portray. I would do
simple justice to one of the noblest hearts that ever loved and
suffered wrong through that love — justice denied her by soci¬
ety and her own household, and which I alone, of all living
who knew her, can fully set forth. Nor, I may say here,
would I ever have lifted my pen to the mournful undertaking
had not Humor, cruelly regardless of the sanctity of the grave,
been busy with the name and story of her who has passed
beyond reach of its attacks. Yet the tale has its moral, and
may not be spoken altogether in vain to some thoughtlessly-
sinning lover of admiration ; some not quite wanton triiler with
another's happiness.
It was not thought strange that Leah and I were intimate
O O
associates and friends at school, although I was in my seven¬
teenth, when she reached her fourteenth year. Nobody called
lier a child, even then. She was tall for her age, with a
womanly air, equally removed from formality and forward-
154
HUSBANDS AND HOMES-
ness ; a diligent student, an exemplary pupil in deportment,
and, as I can best testify, a deep-hearted friend. The eldest
of four children —her mother's confirmed ill health liad early
cast upon the devoted daughter duties and responsibilities that
would have been deemed onerous by many of twice her years,
and to this circumstance she probably owed her early maturity
of mind and manner. She was considered and described by
most people as prompt in judgment and self-reliant in an unu¬
sual degree. The few who studied her more thoroughly, and
arrived at a just conception of her character — and the num¬
ber of these was indeed small — discovered, to their surprise,
that she possessed neither of these qualities, detected a diffidence
with regard to her own opinions, a trembling sensitiveness to
the sentiments and tastes of those she esteemed and loved,
seemingly at variance with her apparently ready decisions and
resolute action. She was strong-minded, without being con¬
ceited or wedded to lier conclusions ; independent, without a
tincture of arrogance* It is not the most tender hearts — those
whose structure is most exquisite and delicate •— that are, in
popular parlance, "worn upon the sleeve." The tulip and
rose, dahlia and hollyhock flaunt, expand, and glow upon the
outer border of the parterre, and invite the look and touch of
passers-by. The violet and anemone seek seclusion and shade.
To her father, Leah was a companion and co-adviser; to lier
sister and brothers, a judicious guardian and tender nurse,
whose steady, active kindness won for her both respect and
affection ; but the invalid mother alone fathomed and ap¬
preciated the wealth and passionate earnestness of her inner¬
most nature.
A year after I left school for my own home and friends, I
received a letter from Leah, imparting the not-unexpected
intelligence of this parent's death. The epistle was brief, and
in some sort calm. There were no hackneyed phrases of res-
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
igrmiiort — it would have been unlike her to employ such ; no
declamatory bursts of grief or professions of inconsolable an¬
guish — only one sentence, over which the hand had faltered —«
one which, coming from most women, would have meant little
more than met the eye — that yet gave me a glimpse into the
sorrowful depths of the veiled heart.
" I cannot trust myself to attempt to tell even you, Maria,
of my unutterable loneliness. Pray for me, that my strength
fail not."
Strength ! That was her first, her abiding thought! strength,
to be expended for others' good !
I paid her a visit the ensuing winter, and found lier serene,
busy, outwardly cheerful ; the nominal, as she had been so
long the virtual mistress and controller of her father's establish¬
ment. In private, and to me, she was die stricken bird, pining
ceaselessly for the warmth and shelter of the parent wing.
Then passed six years, in which neither of us looked upon the
other's face. To her they brought many and various cares ;
the employments incident upon her position as a housewife
and a daughter; the claims of society; the occasional anxieties
of sickness among the different members of her family — of all
these her letters to me treated ; none of them great or startling
events, yet, all combined, sufficing to keep her from the fulfil¬
ment of a long-cherished, oft-attempted scheme of visiting me.
To myself, the same cycles were crowded with fate ; bore
in their bosom orphanage, and another bereavement, whose
shadow lay deeper and darker than the deaths of father and
mother — selfish griefs, with which this narrative lias nothing
to do.
At last after an infinite deal of hope deferred and frustrated
endeavor, Leah came to me. She was a tall, finely-proportioned
woman of two-and-twenty, with noble, thoughtful features ; a
countenance that kindled into rare and sudden brightness in
15G
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
animated speech, and took, in converse with such as ¿he liked
and loved, a winning gentleness, indescribably fascinating, that
suited well the softened, sweeter modulations of her voice.
She speedily made herself popular in our quiet inland town,
and in the dwelling, now inhabited only by my widower brother
and myself, the remnant of a numerous and happy household,
she was a perpetual solace and delight.
" You have grown younger, instead of older with the pas¬
sage of time, Leah — more joyous, rather than graver," I re¬
marked one night, as we sat over our chamber fire, after our
return from a small evening party, given expressly in her
honor. " I wish I dared repeat to your ears some of the
many compliments to your ' engaging affability,' your ■ ready
wit,' and general brilliancy, which were confided to me by
rapturous admirers at Mrs. Townes'."
" Do you intimate that the chrysalis of school days has be¬
come a butterfly ? " she asked, coloring, yet with a brighter
smile.
" Or that the bird of Paradise has unfolded her wings ? "
returned I, in a like strain. " One would say that you had
found the Fountain of Life and Perpetual Youth, and drunk
copiously therefrom."
" I have ! "
Her look was too earnest now for smiles, yet her face grew
more radiant; her eyes overflowed with gladness. I gazed at
her in dumb amaze, too stupid to read at once her meaning.
" Here is the token that I have tasted — drunk abundantly
of it ! " She raised her hand, upon the third finger of which
sparkled a diamond, as it were a crystallized drop of spray
from the fabled fount. " I have longed to tell you all about
it ever since I have been with you. Will you let me do it
now ? "
She sprang up ; extinguished the light, and, sinking upon
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
157
the cushion at my feet, wound her arms about my waist, and
in low, hesitating accents, that soon became full and melodious,
revealed the precious secret. I had heard the name and some¬
thing of the character and standing of lier betrothed before she
C5 O
mentioned him, but never from her lips or in connection with
herself. Charles Moore was a young lawyer of talent and
enterprise, for several years past a resident of her native place.
His fine abilities in his profession, his personal attractions and
social qualities had been favorably spoken of in my presence
by more than one acquaintance of his and my own, and I was
thus prepared for her description of the means by which he
had Avon her. I took verbal exception to but a single item of
her portraiture.
" He is very unlike me ! " she said, laughingly. " But 7
cannot say that I consider that an imperfection."
"/ do," rejoined I, bluntly. " What constitutes this dissim¬
ilarity — may I ask ? "
" You will change your mind when you hear. He is as
sanguine of temperament as I am desponding ; charitable in
judgment where I would be censorious ; gentle and forbearing
when I would, in like circumstances, be captious and severe
with my best friends ; frank and enthusiastic, while I am re¬
served and calculating. Ah, Maria ! when you see and know
him, you will acknowledge what I confess hourly to myself —
that he is far too good and noble for poor faulty me ; will
wonder with me at the strange taste—the only instance of
bad taste 1 ever observed in him by the way — that beguiled
him into selecting me as his lifelong companion." »
" Never ! were he the immaculate conception of all the vir¬
tues and graces you have enumerated ! " I asserted, obsti¬
nately.
She shook her head, with a confident smile. " Again I
say, only wait and see ! I am striving to adapt myself to his
14
158
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
wishes —— to what I know he would like, although he has
never suggested, however remotely, a criticism of what Ï
now am — "
" I should think not, indeed ! " interrupted I, impatient of
this uncalled-for humility, which, I could yet see, was unfeigned.
" I should dislike him on the spot, withhold my consent, which,
of course, is indispensable to the consummation of the contract,
were he to attempt any such remoulding process."
"There is no danger! He is as blind to my imperfections
as another too partial friend, not a hundred miles away ; gen¬
erosity that incites me to renewed watchfulness and endeavor
after conformity to the right standard. I am conscious of my
deficiencies, although he may be ignorant of them. God knows
how constant and fervent is my prayer that I may make him
as happy as he deserves to be. If the power is denied me, I
shall find death very sweet ! "
It was unfair, while it was not perhaps unnatural, that I
should from this conversation conceive a faint and secret prej¬
udice against the much-lauded lover, which the encomiums of
his fiancée could not remove. My impulses were strong, my
conclusions quickly established to my own satisfaction, and, as
may be supposed, I often erred in both. Leah was my dear¬
est friend ; and, if not absolutely faultless in my eyes, occupied
too lofty a stand in my regard, was too far superior to the or¬
dinary run of women, for me to entertain, with tolerance, the
thought of this stranger, who, I doubted not, had fifty foibles
to her one, suggesting amendments in disposition and manner :
remodelling, where he should have rendered only delighted
approval. I said nothing of this discontent, however, while
she went on with the details of their present plans and painted
their hopeful Future. Fier sister, Pauline, two years her ju¬
nior, was to be married at the same time with herself to a gen¬
tleman from the far West The brothers, now almost young
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
159
men, were in college, and the father was to reside with Leah
and her husband.
" It is a sunny picture ! " she said, musingly. " Indeed,
Maria lifting her face, whose expression of perfect trust and
happiness I could discern even in the uncertain fire-light —-
"my love has been cloudless from its dawn until now. We
have had no rough seas, no storms. It is all sunshine."
Was it for me to cast a shadow of doubt or misgiving upon
the heaven of this joyous confidence — this blissful serenity of
love which comes to so few souls, unshadowed by sad memories
or sadder forebodings ? I hoped with and prayed for her.
The marriage took place at the appointed time, and I went,
summoned by the bride, to pass the fortnight preceding the
ceremony with her. Upon the evening of my arrival I was
presented to the bridegroom expectant. Despite my precon¬
ceived intention to criticize narrowly, and, if needful, condemn
unsparingly, he conquered prejudice and disarmed censure in
the course of a single interview. He was a fine-looking fellow,
six feet tall, with black hair and eyes ; his physiognomy indic¬
ative at once of intellect and amiability, and his frank, courte¬
ous bearing bespoke him, in heart as in demeanor, the thor¬
oughbred gentleman. But his principal passport to my favor
was not in these external advantages, or in the flattering in¬
terest he exhibited in myself. It consisted in his silent yet
expressive devotion to the object of his heart's choice ; his
unobtrusive watchfulness of her every motion ; the respectful
attention lent to her slightest word ; his manifest pride in, and
admiration of her.
" I like him ! fully as much as you can desire ! " was my
report to Leah when she came to my room after his departure,
anxious to gather my impressions of the hero of her drama.
" My mind is quite at rest since I have seen you together
He is one in a thousand, for he appreciates you."
i GO
IXUS BAND S AND HOMES.
" Overrates, you should say ! My great fear is lest lie should
awake some day."
Which fear had no place in my visions of their united
lives.
I was her first bridemaid ; gave her up to him — not gladly ;
I was not heroine enough for that — still without an envious
murmur at his happiness for a prophetic thought of evil for
her. Providence — so said the horoscope cast for her by my
loving imagination — had decreed to her a lot rich in life's
Ö O
choicest blessings. So far as mortal could judge, she deserved
the gift, and I felt assured would make right use of it. Our
correspondence was continued regularly after her marriage —
an instance of friendship's fidelity that would have surprised
me in any other of my whilome school-fellows — which was
so in keeping with Leah's character and conduct, that it awoke
no wonderment. Now and then her letters had, as an appen¬
dix, a note from Mr. Moore, often lively, always kind. He
seemed to desire me to understand how heartily he indorsed
our intimacy, and certainly succeeded, by so doing, in showing
me how fully he entered into all that gave his wife pleasure.
They liad been married but half a year when there came a
black-sealed letter, not only superscribed, but written wholly
by him, informing me of the death of Leah's father.
I was not wounded that she had not herself communicated
with me as at her mother's decease, which was, from the very
nature of her circumstances at that period, and the peculiar af¬
fection existing between parent and child, a heavier stroke than
this ; understood and admitted the excuse her husband made
for her silence, namely, that she was too " much overcome by
her grief to undertake even this trifling exertion." There ex¬
isted no longer the necessity for stern self-control, for resolute
calmness and vigorous action that had nerved her upon the
former occasion. Sorrowful she might be and doubtless was,
IIUSßANDS AND HOMES.
161
bat lonely-hearted and self-dependent no more.- There is
sweetness in the woe that is wept out upon a stronger and a
sympathizing heart. It is solitary and unshared anguish that
blights and kills. Leah's womanhood grew richer and fuller
beneath the cloud. True, I could only trace the change by
means of her letters, but these were frequent and long, and
with her, the pen was a more ready and eloquent vehicle of
thought and feeling than the tongue.
O O o
Two more years went swiftly by, and by the mysterious sort
of fatality that had already kept us so often asunder, when we
earnestly desired and persistently sought the society of one
another, we had not met for a single hour. As the third winter
of her wedded life approached, she redoubled her solicitations
for my company, and making an extraordinary effort, I con¬
quered fate itself, and set out upon the long-contemplated trip.
The distance was not formidable, the route direct, and I en
countered no difficulties by the way. It was a raw, disagreea¬
ble afternoon, threatening an easterly storm, when I found
myself near my journey's end, and my musings, insensibly to
myself, at first, took the hue of the sky and atmosphere. I
dwelt perversely, and especially upon the idea that Leah's
part of our correspondence had not of late been sustained with
her accustomed spirit. The intervals of silence had been of
greater length, her communications shorter, and, I fancied, less
free and candid than of yore. There was no diminution of
regard for me implied by these alterations. Of this I was as¬
sured in so many words by herself, and I rested implicitly i pon
lier assertion. She had never expressed herself more warmly
with respect to this point than in her latest epistle, an answer
to mine settling the time of my arrival. Her health would
not allow her to go much into society this winter, she wrote ;
her husband's increasing practice frequently called him away
from home for several days together. I could and would do
14*
162
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
her good by coming ; she longed for me, and eoukl not brook
furiher disappointment.
" I liad not supposed that any amount of bodily weakness
could make her nervous or low-spirited," I said to myself, in
ruminating upon these signs of the times. " And if it has,
Mr. Moore's temperament better fits him to become a restora¬
tive than does mine. It is gratifying to one's vanity to be thus
importuned ; but I hope Leah does not pine for me while he is
at home. He is grievously in fault if she does."
A sombre meditation upon man's waywardness and selfish
absorption in worldly cares and business profits was seasonably
interrupted by our stopping at the depot, in the busy and
thriving town which was the terminus of the railway.
My foot had barely touched the platform when my hands
were seized in a fervent grasp ; Leah's voice was bidding me
a joyous welcome, and Leah's face — the dear, old familiar
features and smile—was looking full into mine. Gloom and
saddening fancies fled apace at sound and sight of these.
Flush t.. and eager, she drew me out of the noisy crowd towards
a pretty, stylish carriage standing near, seated me therein, de¬
manded my checks, and sent them off by the servant before I
could utter more than a word of greeting. It was this never-
failing presence of mind — this energetic mode of action that
gained for her the reputation of coolness and independence.
To me it wras very delightful, for it was characteristic of her,
and her alone. My first connected sentence was one of ex¬
postulation.
" You should not have come out this damp evening. I could
have found my way to your house without subjecting you to
this needless risk."
" As if I would allow that ! Charles is not in town ; he is
off upon one of his stupid court circuits, or he would have
robbed me of the pleasure of meeting you. As to risk, that i<{
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
1G3
all nonsense. There is nothing in such weather as this that
can harm a well person, and to-day I am in unusually fine
spirits and health."
She looked well and bright. I noticed this more particularly
when she came to my room to see ïf I needed any assistance in
making my toilet for the evening. I was already dressed, and
there was still half an hour to spare before tea-time. She had
laid aside her hat and cloak ; her eyes were full of happy light ;
her cheeks almost rosy. I was half angry at and quite ashamed
of my ridiculous imaginings concerning her unhappiness.
" This," she said, unclosing the door of an apartment that
adjoined mine upon one side, and her chamber on the other,
" is my ' snuggery ' — our family sitting-room. When I have
stranger guests, it is my custom to keep this door of communi¬
cation locked. You will always be welcome in the sanctum. We
shall have many long delicious talks together here, morning,
noon, and night. I have hoped for them hungrily ! This is
your chair. It has been ready for you — yawning vacantly to
receive you for two months, you naughty girl ! Try it ! "
She forced me gently down into a low lounging-ehair beside
the cheerful fire, and took another close by for herself. I pro¬
nounced the elastic cushions only too luxurious, and thanked
her for this proof of kindly affection.
" I need not ask who is the proprietor of that ! " I con¬
tinued, pointing to a larger and taller fauteuil shrouded in
gray linen.
"It is Charles' especial resting-place. No one sits in it
while he is away, and it is never covered when he is in town,
I. worked it myself, and would have done the upholstering, if I
had known how," She removed the cover and displayed the
rich and elaborate embroidery of the seat, arms, and back.
" The footstool matches it, you perceive."
" And you can find time for fancy-work amid all your s cri-
164
husbands and homes.
ous duties!" I exclaimed. "It must have taken months to
complete that."
" It consumed only the spare moments of a few weeks —
scraps of leisure that would otherwise have been wasted. I
should have felt amply compensated for years of labor by the
sight of Charles' surprise and pleasure at the unexpected gift.
I have enjoyed few happier moments than those I tasted upon
the Christmas evening — a stormy one -— when, arrayed in the
dressing-gown and slippers that accompanied the chair, he first
ensconced himself within its friendly embrace, lighted his cigar,
and entered upon a genuine old-fashioned fireside chat. He is
eminently domestic in his tastes, appreciates these ' small,
sweet courtesies ' of home-life, and is so grateful for each and
all of them that I would be very unkind were I to omit
them. And while we are speaking of him " — as if her tongue
were liable to wander to any other theme ! " while we are
speaking of him, I must not forget to deliver his message to
you." She drew a letter from her pocket, handling it very
carefully-—one would have said tenderly. "I only received
this to-day. It is not so long as are mine to him ; but its
superiority in quality overbalances that shortcoming. He is
engaged in an important and tedious suit in L , and has
not a minute that he can call his own. This was dashed off in
the court-room. Poor fellow ! but he knew how anxious and
lisappointed I would be if he did not write. He says : ' I shall
think of you and Maria on Wednesday night ; shall sympa¬
thize with my whole heart in your happiness at the reunion
with your old and tried friend. Tell her how sincerely I
regret my inability to join with you in her reception, and how
great will be my pleasure at meeting her at last in our own
home. Do not be so well satisfied with her society as tc anti¬
cipate my arrival on Thursday, with distaste.' The rest you
would not care to hear." She broke off, laughing and blushing.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
165
" You would not care to read aloud, you mean ! He would
not have written that last saucy sentence, had he not felt very
sure how unnecessary was the caution. ou are a happy
woman, Leah, in having your husband in love with you so
long after the wedding-day ! "
Was it another of my absurd fancies, or did a slight spasm
of pain shoot across her features —- her eye grow momentarily
dim ? Whatever it was, it was gone in a second.
" You are right ! The lines of my life have fallen in pleasant
places. My joys are real and abiding — my sorrows, the
phantoms of my undisciplined imagination. I shame to own
it, Maria, but I am wickedly unreasonable, foolishly exacting
at times, even with Charles. I am trying to overcame this
unworthy propensity ; and to bear in mind that every man in
his position and with his temperament, has other claimants
upon his time and thoughts besides his wife, let her be ever so
dear. It is one of my failings that I want to be everything or
nothing to him ! "
" The wife of a distinguished literary man, who was a most
affectionate husband withal, once confessed to me that, during
the twenty years of her otherwise happy married life, she had
been at some seasons the victim of violent and angry jealousy.
Her rival was one not easily gotten rid of, and seductive as
obstinate. It was lier husband's library," was my response.
" Good ! I must tell that to Charles ! He has a sort of
study— a 'den,' he calls it — in the third story, where even I
am not welcome at certain hours. I sometimes fairly detest
the tobacco-scented, book-littered place. He always reminds
me of Robinson Crusoe and his inner cave, when he withdraws
to this retreat. I tell him that he would pull the staircase up
after him if he could, as Robinson used to do his ladder, so
great is his dread of intruders."
Just then I heard the sound of the piano from the parlors
166
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
below, a fashionable variation of a popular air, well and boldly
played.
" You have company, then ?" I said.
Leah looked annoyed, although she tried not to let this
appear.
" Only Janetta Dalrymple — a cousin of Mr. Moore's, who ia
passing the winter here."
" You have not mentioned her in your letters, I think."
She paid no attention to the remark.
" She has been with us nearly three months. Her mother
died a year and a half ago, and her father was married again
in six months to a young, giddy girl. Janetta's home being
thus rendered exceedingly unpleasant, after a great deal of un¬
comfortable feeling upon both sides, she left it and went to live
with her married -brother. His wife died last September, and
he went abroad almost immediately, committing Janetta to our
care until he should return. The brother and sister are the
only children of Charles' favorite cousin — a lady who Avas a
second mother to him in his boyhood, and he is naturally
desirous to testify his grateful recollection of her kindness by
doing all that lies in his power to serve the surviving members
of her family. Have you observed that portrait ? "
It was an excellent likeness of her father, hung upon the
opposite wall over against my chair. I arose to examine it,
and, if she desired to prevent further inquiries respecting her
husband's relatives, her end was gained. I did not give Miss
Dalrymple another remark or thought until Ave met at the tea-
table.
She AAras shorter than Leah, reaching scarcely to the shouldei
of the latter ; plump and fair-skinned, neither pretty nor yet
plain ; an unremarkable-looking girl at first sight, and dre ;sed
rather carelessly in deep mourning. She said little Avhile wo
were at supper, merely replying to the ordinary courtesies of
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
167
,he meal, but it was evidently the taciturnity of indolence or
nonchalance, not of diffidence. Indeed the impression left upon
my mind by her countenance and demeanor was that of very
cool self-satisfaction and self-possession, diametrically opposed to
anything like timid or bashful reserve. I conceived the notion
then that she could talk well and fluently, if she considered it
worth her while to make the exertion.
Upon leaving the supper-room, Leah addressed her more
politely than cordially. " It is raining so heavily that we shall
hardly be interrupted by company this evening. Miss Allison
and myself will spend it in the sitting-room up stairs. Will
you join us ? "
" No, I thank you, Cousin Leah ! This wet night is a gen¬
uine godsend to me. I shall practise steadily until bed-time.
I am ashamed to say that I have not learned nearly all the
new music which Cousin Charles kindly gave me to cheer
my lonely hours while he should be away. He will think me
sadly ungrateful, will scold me roundly, I am afraid."
Leah bit her lip and led the way up stairs. We were
hardly seated when the piano broke out into brilliant music
With a movement like a shiver of petulance or disgust, Leal,
rang the bell.
" Catherine ! " she ordered the servant who answered it, " go
down and close the parlor doors softly, so as not to disturb
Miss Dalrymple. Do it without attracting her attention, if
you can."
The girl performed her errand faithfully, for the music,
muffled by the closed doors, poured on in a continuous stream,
as though the performer had neither stirred nor looked away
from her notes.
" Now, we can talk in something like comfort! " Leah ejac¬
ulated, drawing her chair nearer to me and the fire.
She had never been more than a tolerable musician, neither
108
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
her ear nor her touch being very good ; but I knew that since,
her marriasre she had striven to cultivate her taste and increase
O
her skill in the accomplishment to please her husband, who was
a passionate lover of the art, and devoted to its practice. Ig¬
norant that I was trenching upon a delicate subject, I said :
" Have you paid much attention to music lately ? You
should be a proficient by this time, having proved yourself to
be an exception in this respect, as in the matter of embroid¬
ery, to the generality of married ladies. Both occupations are
with you a labor of love — both pursued with an object."
" I rarely play now," she rejoined, gravely. " I am not
strong enough to attempt very diiigent practice. Janetta is a
better performer than I, and I have given this part of Charles'
entertainment over to her."
If practice makes perfect, Miss Dalrymple might well be the
unrivalled mistress of the finger-board. We talked until the
small hours wore in upon the midnight, and she played all the
while, with no more interruption than was necessary in laying
down one piece of music and taking up another. I ceased to
marvel at Leah's nervousness at the commencement of the
performance. If this were the order of exercises to be ob¬
served upon every rainy evening, I should certainly put up my
petitions for a dry winter.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
169
CHAPTER II.
Mr. Moore was expected home in the evening train, on the
day succeeding my arrival, and long before the hour of his
coming the house wore a holiday aspect. It was hard to define
the precise features of the change that had come over the prem¬
ises, for all had been neat, and fresh, and tasteful before. Leah
was a model housewife, taking great pride and pleasure in all
that appertained to this oifice, and as she passed from room to
room, rearranging furniture, polishing a glass here, and adding
a flower, or other trifling decoration there, she appeared to
scatter lisrht and bloom from her own countenance ; sum? at her
O 7 O
work as blithely as any bird. Dusk found her in the hand¬
somely furnished parlors, illuminated as for a host of visitors.
" Charles has a horror of gloomy rooms ! " she explained,
as she kindled another burner in the chandelier. " He is too
cheerful himself to like darkness or an uncertain light."
She had laid off mourning for her father. " Charles never
liked to see her wear black ; it was too sombre for her com¬
plexion." Her dress, to-night was one which, she proudly In¬
formed me, was his choice and gift, a bronze-colored silk, heavy
yet soft in texture, and relieved at throat and wrists by crimson
velvet ribbons. The laces of lier collar and undersleeves were
daintily fine ; her headdress, lappets of black lace, " picked out "
— to use a technical term — with crimson in the crown-piece,
became her admirably. She looked and moved the dignified,
comely matron, the happy wife. Again and again her watch
15
170
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
was consulted as the important hour drew on — impatience that,
it was evident, would grow into uneasiness if the train were
delayed five minutes beyond its time.
" Hark ! I hear wheels ! " She raised her finger and lis¬
tened.
They came nearer and nearer, and, as they stopped in front
of the house, she glided swiftly and joyously into the hall. 1
sat still in the back-parlor, knowing that the meeting would be
robbed of half its sweetness by the presence of lookers-on, how¬
ever friendly. I was, therefore, not too well pleased when
Miss Dalrymple's voice made itself heard most loudly in the
little bustle of greeting, and surprised at seeing her enter the
room with her cousins, equipped in hat, cloak, and furs, and
glowing from the cold air of the rainy outer night.
" James was my only accomplice," she was saying, in high
glee. " I stole down to the stable while lie was getting the
carriage ready to go to the depot, and offered myself as inside
passenger. I knew that I should be refused permission if I
applied to head-quarters. Don't look so serious, Cousin Leah,
please ! The rain didn't hurt me one bit, and, after all, it is
not much more stormy than it was last night, when you drove
down yourself to meet, Miss Allison. Was I very wicked,
Cousin Charles ? I did want to see you so badly ! "
" Nonsense, child ! Who thinks of scolding you ? " Mr.
Moore had welcomed me with cordial grace, and now turned to
the questioner, who had fastened herself upon bis arm. " And
yet I am not sure that you do not merit a whipping for expos¬
ing yourself upon this inclement night. Let me see — are you
wet ? " touching her cloak. " Indeed, Nettie dear, this is not
safe ! Your clothing is very damp. Run away and change it.
Had you rubbers on ? "
Janetta put out a pretty little foot, smiling wilfully. It was
covered by a thin-soled gaiter.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
171
- w as there ever such another imprudent creature ! " ex¬
claimed her cousin, frowning. " Is there a fire in your room ? "
" No ; the register heats it sufficiently for a warm-blooded
animal like myself."
" Leah, my love, cannot one be kindled there at once ? It
is dangerous for her feet to remain in this state ! Those con¬
temptible little shoes must be soaked, in only crossing the
sidewalk. The pavements are flooded. Merely changing her
gaiters will not do. lier feet should be well heated besides."
" Janetta had best get on dry stockings and slippers, and go
down to the kitchen fire," Leah returned, coldly. " I cannot
spare. Catherine at present to light another in her chamber."
" There is no need ! I had forgotten the sitting-room arate.
o o o
Be off, you madcap ! Put on other foot-gear and hurry down
to the fire."
Janetta made him a low courtesy, and danced away, sing-
Lg: —
" O, Willie, we have missed you,
Welcome, welcome home ! "
" It is pleasant to be at home again ! " said Mr. Moore, look¬
ing fondly down at his wife. " And how have you been, love ?
You are looking uncommonly well/
" I am very well, thank you ! " was the reply, in a quiet tone.
" Will you go up to your room now? Supper will soon be
ready."
I saw him encircle her waist with his arm as they passed
into the hall together.
He was undoubtedly an affectionate husband, and, so far as
I was able to judge, worthy of the love she lavished upon him ;
yet I was provoked by the farce I had just witnessed. If the
" child" and " madcap " — who was by the way twenty-three
years of age, Leah had told me — if the " imprudent creature "
chose to imperil her health and sacrifice her comfort to the
172
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
whim of meeting her favorite kinsman ten minutes earlier than
she would have done, had she stayed at home like a sensible
woman, Leah's practical suggestion was all the notice her folly
deserved. For my part, I could have boxed her ears soundly
for her officiousness, in the first place in cheating the waiting
wife of her right of receiving the earliest greeting, and for her
ridiculous trifling afterwards — the sensation she had created,
engrossing him so completely that he had not had an opportu¬
nity to inquire after Leah's health until the vital subject of the
wet shoes was disposed of. Nor did I relish the thought of
her intrusion upon the t.vam in the cozy " snuggery," whither
I knew that Leah would repair with her husband so soon as
the needful changes were made in his travelling-dress. After
O O
a separation of more than a fortnight, it seemed but fair that
they should be allowed five minutes undisturbed tête-à-tête.
In these circumstances I was glad that the supper-bell rang
promptly at the usual hour. It was not responded to at once,
it appeared ; for a second and sharper summons soon tingled
through the hall. Thinking it possible that I might be the de¬
linquent, and that I was supposed to be in my chamber, instead
of awaiting the arrival of the others where they had left me, I
repaired to the dining-room. Leah only was there, arranging
cups and saucers upon the tea-board before her, with flushed
cheeks and brow slightly contracted in pain or impatience.
" I thought that I was the laggard so importunately sum¬
moned," said I, as she glanced up nervously.
She forced a smile. " Oh no ! take a seat ! The others
must be in presently. Catherine, you had better go up and
tell Mr. Moore that we are waiting. The oysters and steak
will be spoiled. Perhaps he did not hear the bell."
Several minutes more passed in uneasy silence, and Miss
Janetta's high, gay tones were heard upon the staircase and
ilong the passage. She entered, hanging upon Mr. Moore's
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
173
arm, after a fashion she particularly affected with him, both
hands clasped over her support, and face upturned, as a sun¬
flower turns its disk to the sun.
" Cousin Leah, I am afraid we have sinned un pardonably at
last. The truth is we were so busy talking that we did not
notice the bell. Cousin Charles has been away so long that I
had a thousand things to tell him and to hear. And after Catli-
©riñe called us, he was in the midst of such an interesting story
that we really forgot her and supper. Do forgive us this once,
you dear angel of punctuality ! "
Leah said nothing, and Mr. Moore looked surprisedly at her
grave face. Janetta hung her head as if abashed, and there
was an awkward pause, broken at length, awkwardly, too, I
doubt not, by a question from myself to the gentleman of the
party, concerning his late trip. He took up the thread I threw
out, with alacrity. He was a rarely agreeable man in conver¬
sation, sprightly and sensible, with much ready humor, as well
as fine feeling. The talk was kept up with considerable spirit
between us two until Miss Dairy m pie rallied from her embar¬
rassment, real or feigned, and Leah had fought successfully her
fit. of displeasure or discontent. Janetta had made a becoming
toilet in a marvellously short space of time — one that offered
a striking contrast to the dishabille of the previous evening.
Her hair waved in a cloud of ringlets, crisp and smooth, despite
the unfavorable dampness of the air ; and her black silk dress,
with its bands of crape, made her skin seem transparently clear
and white. She wore short sleeves - - a favorite custom with
fine pianists, I have remarked — and her arms showed round
and fair against her dress. She had a good color, and as she
gradually brightened up under the influence of her cousin's
lively chat, she looked really very pretty. Her coming out
from under the shadow of Leah's disapprobation was adroitly
managed ; her appealing, deprecatory tone and expression as
15*
174
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
ehe ventured, niter an interval of cowed silence, to address the
mistress of the house ; her obvious anxiety to show her every
attention that she could contrive, and the shy, child-like ques¬
tioning glance from time to time at Mr. Moore, as asking his
countenance and advice, were wonderful and interesting to be¬
hold, even while I had but a glimmering consciousness of their
intent.
When we arose from the table, Mr. Moore allowed his
cousin and myself to precede him to the parlors, and tarried
behind to speak with his wife. Miss Janetta's liveliness van¬
ished rapidly as minute after minute went by without their
reappearance. She pretended to peruse the evening papers,
skimmed a column in each, threw them down, and walked to
the window, drummed a polka with her fingers upon the sash,
yawned, sighed, and sauntered back to the centre-table where
Ï sat, sewing.
" I wish Charles would come in ! I am dying to hear the
rest of the story he began before supper."
" He is with Mrs. Moore, I suppose," I answered.
" Oh ! of course ! and there is no knowing when they will
get through their affectionate confabulation. Why is it that all
married people are selfish, I wonder? "
" Perhaps because they have a better right than others to
the monopoly of the society of those whom they love best."
I made the observation very innocently, in fact thoughtlessly,
supposing her to be more in jest than in earnest, but chancing
to raise my head as I said it, I was startled at the strange
change in Miss Dalrymple's countenance. Anger, scorn, in¬
quiry glared upon me for a second from eyes I had not thought
capable of such intense expression. It was suppressed before
I could quite credit the evidence of my own senses, and saying
sarelessly : " Perhaps so ; but it is in very bad taste, to say
the least of it " — she tossed her head and went to the piano.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
175
She had played for fifteen or twenty minutes when Leah
entered alone. All trace of unpleasant feeling had passed from
her sparkling face. In her hand was a small box, or morocco
case, which she held towards me, with a proud smile. " Would
you like to see my present ? "
It consisted of bracelet, brooch, and watch-chain, exquisitely
manufactured of dark hair, linked and banded with gold ; each
article marked " C. II. M. to L. M."
" It is his own hair, I suppose ?" I said, admiringly.
" Certainly ! and therein lies the charm of the gift. If lie
were not a very Absalom in the luxuriance of his locks, he
would have come home to me a shorn lamb."
" Miss Dalrymple ! " I had to call twice, the piano being by
this time fortissimo. " Excuse me for interrupting you, but
do come and look at this beautiful gage d'amour ! This is not
much like an almost three-year-old husband, is it?"
She could not, in decency, refuse to obey the summons, or I
believe she would have done so, but she drew near slowly, and
surveyed the jewelry with a curling lip.
" They are handsome ! " she said, after a momentary ex¬
amination, giving back to Leah the casket I had laid in lier
unwilling hand. " I congratulate you upon the valuable ac¬
quisition to your jewel-case."
Anything more dryly frigid than her voice and manner, it
is impossible do imagine. Her affectation of regarding the
intrinsic worth of the ornaments as their only claim to the
recipient's notice, was inimitable.
" Is the girl obtuse or malicious, or meanly and preposterously
envious?" I speculated, in inward indignation.
Leah smiled contemptuously, and began trying the bracelet
upon lier arm.
"Was there ever a better fit?" she said, as her husband
came in.
176
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" There is nothing miraculous in that! You speak as if 1
were not expected to know the precise size of your arm by
this time. You do not understand the clasp, I see. Let me
fasten it."
lie shut the spring ; raised the hand adorned by his gift to
his lips, half in mock gallantry, half in real affection, and while
Leah stood smiling and blushing, like a maiden receiving her
first love-pledge, he removed the pin she wore from her collar
and substituted the new brooch, then detached the gold chain
from her watch and hung the hair one in its place.
" Now that you are arrayed to my satisfaction, if not to your
own, your ladyship must tell me what you think of a trifle I
have in my pocket for Nettie. Nettie, child ! "
She had feigned not to see or hear anything of the little
love-scene which had just transpired, and now threw him a
glance over her shoulder — still seated upon the piano-stool,
striking aimless, random chords upon the instrument. He had
to go to her, for she did not offer to move. Opening a case,
similar in appearance to Leah's, he displayed a set of jet orna¬
ments which I saw, at a glimpse, were far more costly than
the hair trinkets.
" Not for me ! " she ejaculated, when he put them into her
lap.
" Why not for 'me ! ' " rejoined he, smiling at her incredu¬
lous, startled air.
"Because — because—nobody ever thinks of doing such
things for me, now-a-days ! There was a time — " She bfirst
into tears.
Much moved by her distress, Mr. Moore laid his hand upon
her bowed head.
" There, dear ! Think of the true friends who are still spared
to you ! Why, Nettie, I shall esteem myself a cruel bungler'
if ou are so overcome by such a trivial token of my affection.''
HUSBANDS AND IIGUIES.
177
" You cruel ! you, the kindest, best, most generous of men! "
catching his hand and pressing it first to her heart then to her
lips. " I should be ungrateful, indeed, were I to refuse to
acknowledge and value your goodness ! Forgive me, Cousin
Leah ! I know you must despise me for my weakness — that
I am a silly baby in your sight, but I was so astonished and so
pleased — "
" And so tearful," interposed Mr. Moore, " that you have
not given my poor toy a second look."
He took up a bracelet. She extended a plump white arm,
and smiled an entreaty through her tears. lie responded by
clasping the jet circlets — there was a pair of them—upon
her wrists, dropping upon one knee to effect this. The pin he
would have let her settle herself upon her bosom, but there
was some trouble about the catch, and when she had worked
away at it for a moment he had to come to the rescue. Lastly,
he suspended the ear-rings from the pink lobes of her small
ears, and she ran to the mirror with a show of childish delight
that highly amused and pleased the donor.
" What a monkey you are ! " he said, tapping her cheek, as
she stood gazing up at him, her eyes hardly dry, while her
features were wreathed with grateful, loving smiles. " One
would think that I had done you some mighty service — saved
your life, or something of equal importance."
" I wish I could thank you," she returned, with passionate
earnestness. " Only tell me how I may, in some way, prove
my gratitude for your constant benefits to a poor, homeless
orphan."
" By being a happy girl ! That is all ; unless it be by show¬
ing that you have been an obedient one during my absence.
How about that formidable batch of new music ? If you have
learned it all, I have a further supply for you in my trunk/'
'"For Miss Janetta Dalrymple — the reward of good cur aact
178
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
and diligent application to lier studies ! ' Tliat was the way
my school-prizes used to be labelled," laughed the young lady,
going back to the piano.
Mr. Moore made a brief apology to Leah and myself ; begged
that we would not allow the music to be any bar to our con¬
versation, and followed, flute-case in hand.
While the performances went on we sat by the table, busy
with our needles, and, contrary to his injunction, were silent,
more through disinclination to speech, than any scruples of
politeness.
It was no hardship for me to remain a mute listener so far
as my individual self was concerned, for Miss Dalrymple played
remarkably well, and Mr. Moore was a flutist of no mean
ability ; still, I could not recollect that I had ever enjoyed an
entertainment of this kind less. If this were a specimen of
the Moore's usual evenings at home, it was not a mailer of sur¬
prise that Leah should often be lonely, and sigh for some friend
or companion of her own. To the gentle-hearted Griselda,
held up for the admiration and imitation of wedded dames, by
the model tales and essays of man's and spinsters* composing,
it would have been an easy cross — if it deserved to be called
a cross at all — this open neglect of herself and marked pref¬
erence for the society of another upon the evening of the
reunion, to which she had looked forward with eager desire
for more than two long weeks. But Leah was no Griselda.
She was a loving, and because a devoted, an exacting wife.
Her husband was the sun of her world, and she demanded
equal constancy in him. I did not imagine then, nor do I
really believe, now, that he was inconstant, even in thought, to
the matchless woman he had freely chosen to be his life's help¬
meet ; but I did think him strangely, if not selfishly thought¬
less, and ridiculously fond of the fussy little piece cf cousinshlp,
who was so crazy about him. There is no accounting for
HUSBANDS AND HOMES,
tastes,, especially a man's tastes, but I could not see liow he
could do more than barely tolerate the companionship of this
girl when he contrasted her with his truly dignified and fasci¬
nating partner.
Musing thus, I looked across the table at Leah. Her work
had fallen to her knees ; her hands were folded above it, and
her regards were bent upon the pair at the piano. The gaze
of weary wretchedness thrilled and appalled me, so fixed and
desparing was it, and to me so unexpected. Strong-minded
and clear-judging woman that she was, she must have suffered
much, and that not without cause, before yielding to the con¬
viction that, it was plain, now possessed her soul. Never in
my life before had I hated any one with the energy that, at
that instant, moved my soul against Janetta Dalrymple, and
almost as heartily I despised the vanity or undue partiality of
him who thus consulted and ministered to her vagaries and
sentimental impulses, instead of watching first and always the
deeper, more even current of the mighty flood ever flowing
towards him, and him alone, from his wife's true, noble heart.
I must have made some involuntary gesture of hand or head,
for Leah turned suddenly and caught my eye. She grew
deathly pale, and drew her breath in with a gasp of alarm or
hysteric emotion, then with a powerful effort, for which I hon¬
ored and loved her the more, she spoke collectedly.
" I am not well. I am afraid that I have over-exerted mv-
%/
self to-day. I feel, at times, such nausea and faintness, and
my head throbs violently. Ï suppose prudence would dictate
that I should go to bed without further delay. What do you
think?"
"Unquestionably you ought. It is wrong for you to sit up
a minute longer than is absolutely necessary, if such are your
feelings ! " I replied, decidedly, as I knew she meant I should
" Shall I go up with you ? "
180
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
"By no means! I Lad ratlier you stayed Lere and mado
my apology for taking French leave. Good-night ! " She
leaned over my chair and kissed me — an icy touch, that made
me shiver. " Don't disturb them," she whispered, seeing me
glance towards the unconscious performers. "I often steal
away without their knowing it. I am frequently sick and worn
out by evening ; but this will not last forever, I hope. For
the present, a good-night's rest is the best medicine for me."
It was a full half hour before Mr. Moore looked around and
missed his wife.
" Where is Leah ? " he asked.
" She was seized with sudden faintness some time since, and
obliged to retire," I responded, very gravely.
" Is it possible ? Why did not she tell me of it ? "
" I wished to do so, but she would not allow it."
Before the words were out of my mouth he had vanished,
and I heard his fleet, light step go up the stairs, taking two at
a bound.
"She wasn't much sick, was she?" queried Miss Janetta,
turning the leaves of her music-folio.
" She looked very ill. She is subject to these attacks in the
evening, she says. What do you do for her at such times ? "
" // She never complains in my hearing, except of being
tired and-sleepy; but I thought that was to be expected" —
with a disagreeable smile. "Moreover, she does not fancy
my music very much, I imagine, and would be glad of any
pretext for interrupting it."
"Would it not be more kind, if that is the case, to deny
yourself the gratification of practising so much in bei pres¬
ence ?" I was provoked into saying.
The girl's impertinent tone, and total disregard of thp com¬
fort and feelings of her hostess, above all, her sneering disre¬
spect, nettled me beyond endurance. She drew herself up with
an assumption of offended dignity.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
181
" You lose sight of the fact that I play to please my cousin,
tnd at his express request, Miss Allison. I presume that his
vishes, as master of this house and my guardian, are entitled
o some consideration."
I had thrown down the gauntlet, and she had not hesitated
c pick it up. From that moment I understood that she rec-
»gnized in me Leah's partisan and, as a consequence, her own
snemy, and whatever semblance of civility we might maintain
n the.presence of others, our swords were always unsheathed
o each other's eyes. Less than three minutes had elapsed
vhen Mr. Moore came running down stairs.
" She is sleeping quietly and soundly," he reported. " I
íope it was merely fatigue. She will overwork herself! We
vill try that duett once more, Nettie. I am fearful that you
md our music a bore, Miss Allison ; but we will not tax your
latience much longer. I only want to conquer an obstinate
lassage in a piece we have been playing. It is one of my
diosyncracies that if I fail to master any portion of a com-
losition, I am haunted by it incessantly, until I can attack it
igain."
" Perseverance is the secret of most successes in this world,"
vas the only and very lame truism that arose to my tongue.
Presently I ventured to add : " There is no danger that the
nusic may awaken Leah, is there ? "
" None whatever ! Her room being in the back of the
louse, the sound of the piano is scarcely audible there. She
vould not mind it, if she heard it ever so plainly."
I saw Miss Dalrymple hold down her head to conceal a
¡mile. She had the coolest, most intolerable, and unanswerable
sneer I ever saw upon woman's face. Heaven forbid that I
should ever behold it upon another's !
" Put your foot upon the soft pedal, Nettie," Mr. Moore had
;he grace to say.
16
182
II USI » AXDS AND HOMES.
" Certainly, if you wish it ; hut it will spoil the effect of the
finest passages."
She contrived to do this so effectually that the recommenda¬
tion to subdue the volume of sound was soon revoked.
" My fingers ache ! " was her complaint when the duett was
finished. " Sit down ! " drawing a chair close to her side. " I
have something to show you — something which I am too stupid
to comprehend. I want the aid of your quicker brain."
It was an obscure passage in a piece which she was a long
time in finding. The interim was passed in low and, to me,
inaudible dialogue. Mr. Moore had to lean forward to read
from the sheet when it was finally produced, and it was per¬
haps an unconscious action on his part, throwing his arm about
her waist as he bent over. Her head drooped sideways until
her cheek almost touched his, and her curls mingled with the
raven profusion which poor Leah had likened to Absalom's.
"Why ' poor Leah ? ' " I asked myself, in severe candor.
This girl was Mr. Moore's cousin ; he regarded her as a sister.
She had peculiar claims, by reason of her loneliness and af¬
fliction, upon his compassion and affection. There was nothing
covert in his fondness — no thought of evil, or it would not
be so openly manifested. My notions were perhaps prudish,
old maidish — for I was fast growing into an old maid in years
■— and why not in overstrained notions of propriety also ?
But these self-chidings and efforts after charitable judgment
could not blind my mental and moral perceptions to one fact :
Mr. Moore's feelings for and conduct towards his petted cousin
gave his wife keen pain ; and, if he were aware of this, his
present behavior was reprehensible in the highest degree.
Leah might be sensitively jealous beyond reason ; but she was
bis wife, fond, faithful, and self-sacrificing ; and as such, her
whims should have the weight of laws with him.
The knotty musical point required a great deal of discussion,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
183
carried on in the same confidential undertone, varied by an
occasional coquettish laugh from Miss Dalrymple. Had the
talkers both been unmarried, I should have esteemed my posi¬
tion as third person embarrassing and indecorous, and beat an
early retreat. As it was, I stood, or rather sat my ground, and
read a late periodical. At last, the prolonged conference was
ended by Mr. Moore's removing the little hand that had, unin¬
tentionally, doubtless, stolen up to a resting-place upon his
shoulder, and saying, more loudly than he meant to, " Come,
darling ! this is selfish in us ! "
He quitted her side and came forward to my table, again
apologizing for his apparent neglect of me by representing his
passionate love of music.
" Leah tells me that I am music-mad, and I think in my
sober moments, that she is right. Then follow resolutions of
moderate indulgence in future — a praiseworthy intention, for¬
gotten the next time I see or hear an instrument."
This was probably true. I had seen and heard of the like
instances before, and I told him so, without suggesting that
there might be weakness in the infatuation. From this we
rambled to other topics, Miss Janetta taking little share in the
conversation ; and at the close of perhaps a quarter of an hour,
she remarked, with amiable reluctance, that it must be growing
late. We all arose at this; she returning the scattered music
to the folios with diligent haste, and Mr. Moore assisting me
to gather up the various implements of feminine industry that
lay upon the table. Some of these belonged to Leah, and I
stopped in the sitting-room, on my way to bed, to leave them
there.
The door leading into her chamber was ajar, and as I struck
against a chair in the dark, she called, faintly, " Catherine ! is
that you ? "
" It is I, dear Leah ! How do you feel now ? Have you
184
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
had a refreshing sleep ?" I said, going up to the bed, and lay¬
ing my hand upon her hot forehead.
" I have not slept at all ! My head aelies too badly ! "
I expressed no surprise. I could understand the îeasona
that had induced her to feign slumber to her husband. He
should not suspect that heartache, and not bodily ailment kept
her awake.
" What can I do for you ? " asked I.
" Nothing — unless you will be so kind as to bring me the
bottle of volatile salts I left in your room this morning. I
mistook you for Catherine, and wished to send her for it."
I rejoined that she should have it immediately, and went in
quest of the desired article, which I remembered having seen
that evening, not where she believed she had left it, but upon
the parlor mantel. The stair-carpet was thick, my slippers
light, and, without a thought of making a stealthy descent, or
a suspicion that my coming would be mal apropos, I reached
the lower rooms unheard by the cousins — had passed the
threshold before I noticed them, or they perceived me.
Mr. Moore stood in the centre of the apartment, his arm
closely enfolding Janetta's form ; her head lay upon his bosom :
her hands were clasped behind his neck, and at the moment of
my entrance he stooped to kiss her, with a murmur of inarticu-
late fondness.
"Oh ! the rapture of having you home again ! I have been
so desolate — so iveary-hearted Î " burst from her lips.
The "rapture" was arrested by the sight of the intruder.
Her exclamation of dismay ; her breaking away from his em¬
brace ; the crimson tide that deluged her face, were proof suf¬
ficient to convict her of unworthy, if not guilty sentiments in
maintaining her share of this questionable intimacy. Mr. Moore
reddened slightly, but without losing his self-possession.
" Have you lost anything, Miss Allison ?" he queried, p<r
litely.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
185
I walked straight by him to the mantel.
" Leah asked me to bring her this smelling-bottle."
" Ah ! is she awake and sick ? "
" She has had a miserable evening." I did not eare in what
sense lie took my curt rejoinder.
u Indeed ! please say that I will be up directly — so soon as
I can lock up the house," going towards the windows to shut
the blinds. u I should have been with her long ago, had I not
hoped and believed that she was asleep."
He was in earnest, now, with his preparations for retiring,
for the clatter of bolts pursued me on my upward journey, and
it was to overcome this noise that Miss Dairy m pie raised her
voice to an imprudent pitch. I could not avoid hearing the
uncomplimentary observation uttered in blended anger and
alarm.
" Now there will be mischief! The prying, tattling < Id maid
came back on purpose ! " and the beginning of Mr. Moore's
reply, spoken in calm decision : —
" I have done nothing wrong — "
Here 1 passed beyond hearing-
16*
156
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
CHAPTER III.
I h a. ye been thus minute in my description of the scenes
immediately succeeding Charles Moore's return to his home,
both because they were my initial lesson in the knowledge of
the true state of affairs in the household, and because they will
best convey to the reader a conception of the many links — no
single one of which was worthy of serious notice, that yet, taken
altogether, formed a chain whose grievous weight was bowing
my poor friend's heart and soul to the dust. It would be
derogatory to my self-respect were I to trouble myself to assert
that I never, by look or word, intimated to Leah aught con¬
cerning the picturesque tableau I had broken up on that night.
I fancied that Mr. Moore appreciated my discretion and was
grateful for the same, for his treatment of myself was, in every
respect, unexceptionable. lie took great pains to render my
stay in the town and house agreeable, devising excursions and
entertainments, which he supposed would suit my taste, and
accompanying me in these with alacrity and apparent pleasure.
I would have declined going out upon many such occasions,
but Leah opposed this inclination so positively, and so often
exerted herself to an imprudent extent to make one of the party,
when she suspected that I designed to remain at home with her,
that I generally yielded to her importunities and played Made
moiselle De Trop with what grace I could.
For de trop I was, whenever there was but three in the
company, and Miss Dalrymple did not scruple to make me feel
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
187
this, when she conlcl accomplish, the lady-like feat w ithout
attracting Our cavalier's attention. One instance of her dispo¬
sition to claim him entirely for herself recurs to me with par¬
ticular force. A heavy fall of snow was followed by moonlight
nights of rare beauty, and a temperature so mild that one mar¬
velled at the solidity of the white carpet spread thickly over
the earth.
" Ladies, what say you to a sleigh-ride this evening ? " ques¬
tioned Mr. Moore at dinner, the day after the storm. " Don't
all speak at once ! "
Leah smiled at the silence that ensued.
" Nobody seems to be in haste to accept your tempting invi¬
tation," she remarked. " Why not ' all at once ? ' "
" Because my cutter holds but three, with moderately close
storing, and I wish to avoid the predicament of being called
upon to decide between claimants for the privilege of being one
of the passengers."
" I could not go if there were room for a dozen without
packing," she returned. " So the matter is settled without per¬
plexity to yourself or to us. Maria and Janetta will compose
your load."
Janetta ate on in sober taciturnity, although I had heard her
wishing for a sleigh-ride that very morning.
"I must be excused, if you please," said I. "I had the
toothache last night, and dare not venture out in the evening."
" But the air is so pure and dry, almost as bland as summer,
and you can wrap up your head and face ! I cannot consent
to your missing such a treat ! " insisted Leah.
Her husband civilly seconded her arguments ; but honestly
believing that the exposure would be injudicious, I remained
Grm in my declinature.
" So, Nettie," said Mr. Moore, with affected chagrin, " you
are the only one who does not excuse herself from the pleasure
188
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
or (/¿'«pleasure of accompanying me ! I warn you that I shall
expect you to make up for both losses and mortification."
Janetta Dalrymple danced about the house that afternoon
like a mad creature — in an irrepressible flutter of exultation,
oddly at variance with her manner of listening to the proposi¬
tion, as first made, and its discussion.
" Will night never come ? " she cried, meeting Mr. Moore in
the upper hall about five o'clock.
" It is almost dark now ! " he returned, laughing. " Do you
then anticipate so much delight in this frolic—this moonlight
flitting ? "
u Delight ! could I fail to have it ? "
Leah's appearance interrupted her.
m Charles," she said, coming to the sitting-room door, " I was
just about to dispatch a note to you. Can I speak to you for
a moment ?"
" I came up home for some papers — " he began, just as the
door shut them in.
The result of the conference was soon made known to me by
Leah, who sought me in my chamber for that purpose.
" I am here to entreat you to reverse your purpose of stay¬
ing at home to-night. I -have changed my mind ; so there's a
worthy precedent for you. Henry Ellis — my cousin — called
awhile ago to offer us his double sleigh in exchange for our
lighter cutter. His wife is not at home, and he wishes to drive
a fast trotter instead of a pair of sober family studs. He wants
Charles to put in one of his horses with ours, and take us all.
I am going, and so are you ! We have fur robes enough to
smother you, a footstove, and foot-blankets, and I have provided
a phial of toothache medicine, in case of casualties. There is
no use in saying a word ! "
I submitted, not reluctantly, for the prospect of the drive
was tempting, and already the merry dli of the passing sleigh-
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
189
bells macli the blood bound more quickly in my veins. Wo
took a hurried cup of tea to prepare us for the excursion, ancl
by a queer chance, the alteration in the programme was not
mentioned at the table, the meal being discussed in unusual
silence. Janetta begged to be excused before the rest of us
were half through, and sped off to her room, carolling fragments
of the sleigh-bell waltz, as she ran.
" How that girl enjoys life ! " said Mr. Moore. " It is a gen¬
uine pleasure to afford her a diversion like that of this evening;
she partakes of it with such zest, such child-like abandon ! "
The observation was directed to me, and I rejoined, very
safely and truly : " She does indeed seem to be in line spirits
to-night."
Leah and I stood in the hall, wrapped in furs and hoods, be¬
fore Janetta made her appearance. She was unpunctual to a
proverb.
" Come, little one ! come, birdie ! " called Mr. Moore, at the
stair-head. He had an exhaustless store of pet names for her.
"We are waiting ! "
" I am coming— yes, I'm coming!
With my furs about my eet! "
she sang from the floor above.
This trick of parodying her favorite songs was a great habit
with lier. She came down upon the run, and was close upon
us before she saw either of the unlooked-for additions to the
party. The fall of her countenance was actually ludicrous.
" Why, how is this ? I had not understood ! " she stammered,
thrown completely off her guard by the suddenness oi the
disagreeable discovery.
Mr. Moore explained the causes of the change in his plans,
after a style that savored too much of the apologetic to suit me.
She made no reply, except by her looks, which betokened un»
100
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
qualified dissatisfaction. She even hung back, as half inclined
to decline going at all, when he would have handed her in aftef
us. Her cousin spoke to her in a low tone of displeased expos¬
tulation, of which I caught but two words — " unreasonable "
and "jealous." Sulkily submitting to the impetus of his hand,
she was placed upon the front seat. This was always her
chosen position ; it mattered not that I often occupied the back
alone. It had occurred te me that Leah might, once in a while,
prefer to ride by the side of her husband, but she never ex¬
pressed such a -preference in my hearing. I could see, in the
clear moonlight, that our gallant charioteer made repeated efforts
to engage his companion in conversation, bending to her ear
with whispered soothings or entreaties, and watching her coun¬
tenance with anxious attention. She was obstinate in her
dejection, keeping her face averted, and replying to him by
monosyllables, or gestures. At last he showed signs of the
spirit he should have exhibited at the outset ; ignored her pres¬
ence, and devoted himself to amusing Leah and myself.
We rode for more than two hours, and the talk was hilarious,
as befitted the scene. The broad roads were fifed with swiftly
gliding equipages, and the air resonant with merry voices and
chiming bells. Janetta paid little visible heed to what was
going on about her ; took no part in the interchange of saluta¬
tions that were continually passed, as we met acquaintances
and friends. She had drawn her veil closely over her face, and
sat bolt upright, looking neither.to the right nor the left, with
out uttering one syllable. As wre neared home, she lifted hei
handkerchief to her eyes, and her cousin bestowed a searching,
sidelong glance upon her, from which circumstances I inferred
that her obdurate mood had assumed a softer form. She went
quickly into the house, upon alighting at our door, and straight
on to her chamber, her veil still wrapped over her features.
Leah's thoughtfulness and bountiful hospitality had provided
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
191
a hot supper for us — coffee, oysters, and biscuit — which was
served in the upper sitting-room, by the time we had divested our¬
selves of our mufflings. Mr. Moore, in dressing-gown and slip¬
pers, looking very gay, comfortable, and handsome, occupied his
arm-chair at the head of the little round table. Leah sat oppo¬
site, and I at his right. The chair to the left remained vacant.
" My dear, have you sent for Nettie ?" inquired the host, as
he dipped the ladle in the smoking tureen.
" I havë. She does not wish any supper."
" What ! " suspending his hand midway between his dish and
plate.
" She does not care for supper, she says," repeated Leah,
quietly.
"There must be some mistake ! I never knew her to refuse
oysters before, let them be offered when they might. She is
surely not well."
" I sent up a second message to inquire if she were indis¬
posed, and if I might supply her with a cup of coffee in her
room. She declined taking any refreshment, and said that she
was very well."
Mr. Moore ladled out a plateful of the savory " stew " for
me, and another for his wife ; then pushed his chair back.
" I will go up and speak to Nettie myself."
" Charles ! " ejaculated his wife.
" I will be back in a moment, my love," and he was gone.
I have seen Charles Moore grieve and wound his wife more
times than I like to remember. I never saw her angry with
him except this once ; yet her temper was naturally quick.
She did not comment upon his conduct during his absence ;
finished pouring out the coffee ; ordered the servant to replace
the cover of the tureen, and dismissed her, saying that she would
summon her when she was needed. After this there was no more
said for the next ten minutes. Mr. Moore was gone at least that
192
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
long. Leah's flushed cheek, flashing eye, and compressed
mouth were enough to deter a bolder person than myself from
opening a conversation upon indifferent topics, and every prin¬
ciple of honor and delicacy withheld both of us from alluding
to the subject that engrossed our minds.
Charles' temper was less inflammable than his wife's, and
while he looked annoyed upon his return from his fruitless
errand, he yet accosted us with his customary cheerful cour¬
tesy.
" Nettie begs to be excused from appearing again to-night,
ladies. I have been scolding her a little, and the poor, sensi¬
tive child is nearly heart-broken."
" Did she send no apology for her unjustifiable rudeness to
Miss Allison and myself during our ride ? " asked Leah, sternly.
" She is very sorry that she marred the pleasure of our
excursion by her silly moodiness. There is no accounting for
woman's whims and humors, Miss Allison."
"Pray, do not judge all women by Janetta Dalrymple!"
Leah's vexation mastered her prudence. " Her behavior this
evening was more than whimsical. It .was ill-bred and unkind
— a display of temper such as no lady would be guilty of."
" You are hard upon her, Leah. She has her faults ; but
she is incapable of offering an intentional insult to any one,
particularly to a friend whom she respects, and a connection
whom she loves as sincerely as she does you."
" A depth of respect I should never have suspected had not
you informed me of it ! I am sorry to say it, Charles, very
sorry to disagree with you upon this or any other point ; but
I do not think that you are going the right way to work to
correct Janetta's faults, if that is your wish. She is both
unreasonable and selfish."
" Just what I have been telling her, my dear wife ; so we
agree there ! If you please, we will dismiss this matter for the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
193
present. It is an exquisitely painful thought to me that my
favorite relative —- one whose attachment to myself is that of a
sister for an elder brother, should have failed so signaliv to
' O %/
conquer your prejudices and win your affection. Don't sup¬
pose that I blame you for this, however ! I know that she
tries hard to please you, to make you love her, and I think
that you are not intentionally unkind to her ; but I believe, Miss
Allison, that it is a well-established although an unexplained
fact, that no two women, however excellent and lovely, can
dwell for two months under the same roof in perfect concord."
I answered that I had certainly known exceptions to his
rule, and passed, gladly, to other themes of discourse.
In this single instance I could not acquit Leah of blame.
She had spoken injudiciously, and at the wrong time ; yet my
heart ached for her none the less on this account. I may not,
in my spinsterly experience, be the best judge of such ques¬
tions, but it appears to me that few women, who really love
their husbands, could have borne more patiently the spectacle
of the petulant disappointment, the undisguised chagrin, excited
in a young and fond maiden by the discovery that, instead of
her being permitted to enjoy the anticipated affectionate tête-à-
tête with the said husband, his lawful spouse was to form one
of the company. I doubt if even Griselda, milk-and-water
angel though she was, would, out of the plenitude of her insipid
amiability, have witnessed such an exhibition, unmoved by some
spice of conjugal jealousy, or that she would not have set her
wits to work to conjecture what could be the nature of the in¬
tercourse which was thus impatient of the presence and sur¬
veillance of her who should have been the gentleman's best
friend and prime counsellor. Between ourselves, moreover,
dear reader, I do not believe that Griselda loved her kingly
lord with one tithe of the fervor that glowed in the bosom of
this untitled American wife for hers.
17
194
HUSBANDS AND HOMES,
Miss Janetta never apologized to the object of Iter profound
respect or to her visitor for her misbehavior, nor did her
demeanor to us bear that salutary fruits oí repentance and
reformation, maigre her cousin's scolding and her consequent
broken-heartedness. In his absence she favored us with very
little of her society, a deprivation we could not deplore while
her uniform bearing, when she did vouchsafe the honor, was
flippant and supercilious, and herself a decided specimen of the
nil ad m i rar i school, so far as our pursuits and plans were con¬
cerned. To Mr. Moore, she was a totally different being ; her
perpetual outbreaks of artless enthusiasm ; her girlish warmth
of speech and action reminding me of nothing so much as the
encomium passed upon Miss Merry Pecksniff by her poetic
admirer : " Oh, she was a gushing young thing ! " She affected
no secrecy as to her doting love for her cousin — " her best, her
only friend ! " She worshipped him abroad, as at home and in
private, and Charles Moore was not superior to the weakness
of liking to be worshipped by an attracti ve woman. What man
—- unless he be an anchorite or a dullard — is not liable to fall
into the like temptation ?
The intimacy between the idol and the devotee became more
marked each day, and the slighted wife still saw all — perchance
saw and feared more than did really exist, and suffered silently.
It is not suffering like this that makes the soul strong. I verily
think that Leah could have borne more easily entire estrange¬
ment and divorce from her husband than the anomalous exist¬
ence she led just now. Then there would have been no ground
for hope, no food for love, such as the presence, the loving looks
and words, the acts of kindness and liberality that now brought
with them a wildly sweet agony. O to have so much and yet
not possess all ! It was very selfish ; but then, as Miss Dal-
rymple has remarked, " all married people are selfish." ] take
the liberty of adding on my own authority, " Or ought to be !"
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
195
Leah and I were paying a call, one afternoon, at a house
that stood exactly opposite to Mr. Moore's law-office.
'• Why do you not bring that nice little cousin of yours to
see me, Mrs. Moore ? " asked the hostess, by and by. " I have
taken quite a fancy to her from seeing her in the street. She
seems to be very fond of out-door exercise."
Lpah made answer that this was the case.
The lady continued : " Not a day passes, unless the weather
is very stormy, that she does not call in at Mr. Moore's office,
across the way, and she often tempts him to join her in her
rambles. I like to watch them walking together. They
appear to be very much attached to one another."
" Mamma ! " The speaker's daughter checked her innocent
volubility. " ou have dropped your spectacles ! " And in
restoring them, she gave her senior a meaning look that si¬
lenced her.
" They are very sincerely attached to one another ! " re¬
plied Leah, composedly. " It would be strange if they were
not, since they were reared almost like children of the same
mother."
The world should not asperse his fair fame, however griev¬
ously her confidence in him might be shaken. She would play
lier part bravely in public, if the lacerated heart quivered and
bled to death in the effort.
How long would this false and hollow show of tranquillity
last ? how long the surface of the groaning deep smile, as with
summer calm ? were thoughts that haunted me day and night
I inwardly condemned Leah's reserve with her husband as
much as I admired her concealment of the true state of her
domestic affairs from others. While she bore his name, and
lived with him in seeming amity as his wife, she had no right
to smother thoughts within her breast that were eating away
her life ; to brood darkly and secretly over imaginations that
196
IIUSßAKDS AND HOMES.
multiplied, and were magnified in the darkness. Her skirts
were not quite clear while this policy was pursued, Yet she
was actuated by no mean cowardice or sullenness in adopting
this course. A prouder woman never lived. She would have
died sooner than play the spy upon another's actions. While
ehe would, and did try to prevent the growth of the attachment
between her husband and his cousin by all fair and honorable
means ; strove, conscientiously and constantly to win back the
love she feared and believed was straying from her, she scorned
to attack her persecutor with her own weapons, or to constrain,
by reproaches and threats, the return of the recusant. She
would not owe to duty and law that which should be the spon¬
taneous tribute of a true and loving heart.
Thus matters stood when I was seized with a violent cold
that confined me to my bed for several days. Leah spent most
of the day, and a portion of each evening, in my apartment.
Mr. Moore was busily engaged with preparations for an im¬
portant suit in which he was counsel, and could spare but half
an hour or so for his after-supper smoke and talk in the sitting-
room —- the pleasant home-chat which, Leah had once told me,
was to her the most delightful event of the day, however
choice might have been its other pleasures. She was uncom¬
monly cheerful, the third evening of my confinement, although
she came to me earlier than upon either of the two previous
ones.
"Isn't Charles the most thoughtful fellow in the world?"
was her introductory remark. " Overrun by business, as he is,
lie could yet remember the name of the book we were wishing
for yesterday, and went half a dozen squares out of his way, as
he came up town, to get it. Shall I commence it forthwith ? "
I assented, gratifiedly ; and seating herself under the shaded
light, she began. The reading had lasted an hour and a half ;
when, detecting signs of hoarseness in her voice, I stopped
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
107
her, fearful lest she should be exhausted by the prolonged
effort.
"It will be a sorry return to make Mr. Moore for his
considerate attention to our wishes, if we present to hiin a
voiceless wife in the morning ! "
She laughed, and agreed to postpone the perusal of the
volume to the morrow. Still holding it, and now and then
turning a leaf, unwilling, as it were, to lay aside this tangible
token of his remembrance of and kindness to lier, she narrated,
with affected carelessness, other examples of a similar nature ;
favors shown and benefits conferred, as apropos, and in a man¬
ner as delicate. In her happier moods — now, alas ! far less
frequent than of old — she enjoyed nothing more than to talk
of him ; and would enumerate his manifold virtues in my hear¬
ing with the simple-heartedness and circumstantiality of a
child. I imagined sometimes that she strengthened her own
faith in his affection by rehearsing these proofs of it to me.
To-night, she was very hopeful with regard to other subjects,
all bearing a close connection to this master emotion. She
spoke of a certain and momentous event, now not many weeks
distant, with calmness —- even pleasure.
"We shall both be happier then, Maria, and I hope and feel
that I shall be a better woman. I have grown irritable and
unjust of late ; have developed traits that not even the fact of
my being a prey to this unfortunate and, it would seem,
unconquerable nervousness can excuse. I told Charles this
evening how heartily ashamed I was of my variable and pettish
moods, and promised that, if he would bear with me a little
longer, I would promise better things for the future."
I returned a cheering reply, and there was a pause. Mr
Moore's " den" — his wife's favorite aversion, according to her
declaration, was directly above my room, and there penetrated
the ceiling, now, the low murmur of a deep voice.
17«
198
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" Hear tlie man ! " laughed Leah. " He is studying his
tiresome briefs as a school-boy would eon his spelling-book!
Does he often amuse you in this way ? "
kí I have heard the same sound many times before," I re¬
joined.
She listened, smilingly. She loved the very echo of that
voice better than she did the finest music in the world.
" He must enjoy hearing himself talk ! " she resumed. " One
might suppose him a magician holding converse Avith his famil-
iar demon, conjured from the vasty deep by the incense of his
inseparable cigar. Did you ever venture a look into the
recesses of his grotto ?
" Never ! "
" I will show you the mysterious chamber some day when
he is not at home. I never approach the charmed precincts
myself, if he is within. If he has a private study, it must be
inviolable by all human foot during study hours, he stws.
This was the stipulation he made when he had the room fitted
up. I could not bear to have him write and read in his office
at night. It is an inexpressible comfort to know that the same
roof covers us both, although I do not see him."
She retired early, quitting my room by ten o'clock ; and,
feeling myself unable to obey her injunction to immediate
slumber, I lay listening idly to the slight sounds that, in this
quiet quarter of the town, varied the silence of the night. The
chief of these was the murmur overhead, and I found myself
hearkening to it, after a while, with kindling interest. It was
intermittent, I noticed, and in the deepening stillness without
and within, I fancied, as it came more distinctly to my senses,
that the tone was colloquial, not meditative or hortatory ; next,
that the pauses of irregular length Ave re made to admit the
replies of some one else ; then, that a voice of different pitch
and qualify filled these up. I was dismissing the idea, with a
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
191
smile at my fantasies, when there fell into the room — I can
use no other expression that would fitly describe the sudden¬
ness and weight with which it burst upon me — there fell into
he room the unmistakable sound of a laugh — a peal, in which
■ wo voices blended, and I recognized both !
Janetta Dalrymple's chamber was likewise in the third story,
. t the back of the house, a situation she preferred on account
of the view and seclusion ; and here she professed to spend
her evenu.gs in reading or writing, when we were without
company, and she was not at the piano. This, then, wTas the
inviolable sanctuary which the wife's footsteps must not ap¬
proach ! this, the studious retirement, for which the industrious
lawyer had forsaken her society ! here was the solution of the
strange noises I had so frequently heard upon other occasions,
when I had bidden Leah u Good-night," and sought my pillow ;
oftentimes receiving with her kiss a sigh that " Charles would
o O
injure his health by studying so late and so much at night ! "
There was no self-deception in the present case. I only won¬
dered, as once and again Jauetta's peculiar laugh set my teeth
on edge, albeit it was not an unmusical one in itself, and her
accents, less cautious than in the earlier part of the evening,
or more audible by reason of the surrounding hush, offended
my sensitive auriculars — I only marvelled that I was so late
in arriving at the truth.
There was but one drop of comfort in the troubled thoughts
that kept me awake far into the night —- until after eleven
o'clock, at which hour I heard <¿ movement in the study over¬
head ; then a door close softly, and light footsteps retreat in
the direction of Miss Dalrymple's room. Mr. Moore did not
descend to his rest until past midnight ; but he did not study
aloud. The single consolation which 1 derived from the events
of the evening was that Leah had not su.qvcted these clandes¬
tine interviews — I could give them no oik r name. Things
200
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
were assuming a more serious aspect. The reckless girl waa
not only betraying the confidence and abusing the hospitality
of lier hostess, but imperilling her own reputation in the eyes
of servants and chance visitors. I wondered if it ever crossed
Mr. Moore's mind what construction the prying curiosity of
his domestics might put upon these prolonged and unseasonable
visits of this young and fond cousin to a remote and lonely
part of the house, well understood to be his private study —
privacy, which even their mistress respected. I knew that
Miss Janetta would have met such an impertinent insinuation
with a bold face, and the maxim I had heard many times from
her lips — " Evil to him that evil thinks." Perhaps I was
full of evil thoughts and all un charitableness ; but I could not
resist the conviction that the majority of those whom this art¬
less and daring damsel daily met in society would judge her
conduct as I did — many more harshly.
Discoveries, like most other earthly events, are epidemic ; and,
being aware of this fact, I ought not to have been so startled
O y O
and confused at a proposition made by Leah a few nights after
1 became convalescent. We were in the " snuggery " alone —
Mr. Moore having pleaded urgent business to be transacted —
deeds drawn, or copied, or something of that kind, and Miss
Janetta bidden us a cool " Good-night," without making any
apology whatever. A ring at the front door heralded the
appearance of the housemaid, burdened with a large bundle.
"From the dressmaker's, ma'am," she said, delivering it to
her mistress.
Leah sprang up gleefully. " Do you know, Miss Allison,
that I have been doing something very naughty — something
for which your ladyship will berate me very soundly? No?
Then listen and behold ! Do you remember the cashmere
robes cle chambre we were admiring the other day ? I went
out that afternoon and selected two — one for my unworthy
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
201
self, the other for somebody whose worth I know, and you do
not ! "
While speaking, her rapid fingers were tearing oft* the pa
pers, and she now called upon me to take my choice of the
wrappers. This was no easy matter, when both were so beau¬
tiful, I represented, vainly, that I would be delighted with
either, and tried to thank her for her elegant gift. She inter¬
rupted me with declarations that I should make a selection, or
she would force both upon me. We were precisely the same
height ; our complexions were similar ; we had the same
breadth of shoulder and length of arm, and these were all the
requisites demanded in loose robes. I still hung back, and she
suggested that we should try them on, and ascertain their com¬
parative becomingness.
" This redoubles difficulties ! " was her decision, as we sur¬
veyed ourselves in the mirror ; then looked at one another from
head to foot, and laughed like two school-girls in a masquer¬
ading frolic. " I tell you what we will do ! We will besiege
the 'den,' drag Charles out, and make him settle the question !
The emergency of the case justifies extreme measures. Iiis
taste in ladies' attire is infallible — perfectly miraculous !"
She ran off before I could collect thoughts and words to op¬
pose her. I overtook her at ffie foot of the stairs.
" But, Leah 3 "
" But, Maria ! "
" I am afraid that Mr. Moore may riot like our interrupting
- him."
"Of course, he will be as cross as a bear ; and we, being
babies, are afraid of bears ! " she retorted, ironically, conscious,
as I was, that no extent of provocation from a lady could force
her gentlemanly husband to an unseemly show of irritation.
"One would think, from your rueful visage, that you were go«
202
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
ing to peep into the cave of Trophonius. I will take the
responsibility ! Come, I say ! "
I could not refuse to go without wounding or offending her;
O O O "
and, after all, Miss Dalfymple might be that instant buried in
one of her favorite French novels in her own chamber — for
once, harming nobody but herself. However this might be, I
would linger some paces behind Leah, that she might first ex¬
plore the forbidden region. At the entrance, she stopped and
beckoned to me imperatively — lier face arch, and glowing with
mischief. I never saw her look so again.
"We will enter together—storm the garrison with united
forces ! " she whispered, seizing my hand.
Throwing the door wide open, she proclaimed, theatrically,
" Enter an invading — " The words froze upon her lips.
Mr. Moore sat nearly facing the door upon a lounge, whereon
half lay—reclined, she would have said — Miss Janetta.
Iiis arm was about her waist ; her head was laid upon his
shoulder ; their hands were clasped, and his cheek rested upon
her sunny hair. If the picture, seen but for one second, was
burned, as if by lightning, upon my memory, how felt the de¬
ceived wife — the lofty-souled, pure-minded woman, who stood
like a statue in the doorway, the amazed, outraged spectator of
the group !
With a half scream of nervous horror, Janetta sprang to a
sitting posture, and gazed, pale with affright, upon the unwel¬
come intruder. Mr. Moore met Leah's eye, not without a slight
change of feature and color, but far more calmly than I had
believed it practical for any man to appear in such circum¬
stances. Either his self-control outmatched his cousin's, of
his conviction of guilt was less strong. Ile arose, with no show
of trepidation ; but Leah's speech forestalled his.
" My business can wait. I will not interrupt you further ! "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
203
" Stay — " lie began, eagerly ; but the door was already
shut, and I was following Leah down stairs.
She paused upon the threshold of her chamber. "You wil'
excuse me if I leave you somewhat abruptly, Maria ? "
" Certainly ! "
We parted, without so much as a pressure of the hand. She
was not yet brought so low in spirit to accept any sympathy —
not even mine — upon this subject. Her husband came down
a few minutes later, and for an hour and more, I could discern
the faint murmur of their conversation. Perhaps it was as well
that this denouement had taken place, Î reflected. Despite
this one great fault of conduct, I liked Charles Moore. I hoped
that he had erred more through thoughtlessness, than lack of
principle or from waning love foi his wife ; was certain that he
had a very imperfect conception of the pain this, to his appre¬
hension, lawful and innocent intimacy, had occasioned her. If
he once understood what were her feelings and wishes with re-
gard to it, every sentiment of manliness and affection would
prompt him to pursue a different course, and this he must learn
during the explanation now in progress. If Leah would only
be true to herself, and just to him, he could not fail to derive
a severe, but assuredly a useful lesson.
Thus hoping, I fell asleep, and dreamed that Janet ta Dal-
rymple was comfortably supplied with a husband of her own,
whose home was in California — an event that threw me into
an ecstasy of joy, terminating prematurely the entrancing vision.
204
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
CHAPTER IV.
Miss Dalrymple came down to breakfast the next me ruing
sola, notwithstanding my dream—smilingly oblivious, so fai
as mien and words indicated, of having transgressed the slight¬
est rule of good breeding, to say nothing of decorum or morality.
She got a very grave, cool salutation all around the table in
exchange for her bland " Good-morning." Her first observa¬
tion— a jaunty comment upon the weather-—was directed to
Leah, whose response was civil and brief ; her next, playfully
affectionate, was to her cousin. He replied in the dry est im¬
aginable tone, scarcely looking at lier as he did so ; and turning
away so soon as the sentence was finished, he began a conver¬
sation upon commonplace topics with me, occasionally appeal¬
ing to Leah. Janetta's demeanor was consummate in its well-
acted surprise, deepening into injured feeling, and the naive
bewilderment of an innocent grieved child, at undeserved re¬
proach. She could not eat ; try though she seemed to do, to
swallow her distress and breakfast together, and sat, throughout
the remainder of the meal, mutely dejected. The uncomforta¬
ble repast to all of us was finally concluded. Mr. Moore arose,
walked around to his wife's seat, and gave her his customary
" Good-by " kiss before going to his office ; then, merely say¬
ing, " Good-morning, ladies ! " to his cousin and myself, left
the room. Miss Dalrymple followed him into the hall, as she
often did, even when he had parted with her in our presence ;
had bestowed, with his brotherly kiss, a tap upon the cheek,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
205
or a caressing stroke" of the head, always some merry, affec¬
tionate word. When I went up stairs, they had withdrawn to
the parlor, from which issued the sound of convulsive sobbing
and Mr. Moore's mournfully resolute tones.
No Janetta appeared at dinner that day. " She was indis¬
posed, and would take nothing to eat," Catherine reported.
The tea-table was likewise denied the light of her countenance,
and Mr. Moore looked wretchedly uneasy. His solicitude was
so marked as to be distressing, when the morrow failed to bring
her down to breakfast. His own appetite had deserted him
and his temper was on the point of following its example, if
one might judge from the unwonted asperity of his injunction
to his wife.
" I desire, Leah, that you go up and see that poor, child some
time during the forenoon. She is here under my care,_ and,
whatever may be her faults in your eyes, common humanity
demands that she shall not suffer for want of attention while
she is sick."
He had forgotten my presence ; but Leah was mindful of it ;
and while she grew white to her very lips, rejoined, in calm
dignity : " Your wishes shall be obeyed. I will see that she
wants for nothing which I can procure or do for her."
The visit of inquiry was duly made : repeated in the after¬
noon and semi-daily, with conscientious regularity, during the
term of the interesting sufferer's confinement. Those must have
been queer interviews, I thought ; but Leah brought no report
of them below, at least none to me. For five days, the grieving
maiden maintained the rôle of invalid, persisting in her refu¬
sal to accept medical aid, and subsisting upon alarmingly light
rations of tea and toast. I had no fears of her becoming danger¬
ously enfeebled by this penitential regimen. She carried with
her, into her retirement, an abundant supply of adipose matter
to sustain lier during a whole hibernation, and I applauded
18
206
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
her discrimination in having selected the me ins of punishment
best adapted to her offence and present position with regard tc
the really injured party. But Mr. Moore's moodiness was fa t
changing into misery. True he rarely mentioned her name, and
his attentions to Leah wore assiduous—so studied and punctil¬
ious that she shrank from them in absolute pain. Still, his spirits
liad declined utterly ; he ate little ; talked fitfully and without
animation, and was subject to spells of gloomy musing, in
short, acted like a man who had met with a heavy, stunning
blow — one which he felt to be irremediable.
Never had I regarded Leah with such love and reverence
as during that trying week. There was not a spark of haughty
resent mftit, not the most distant approach to retaliation in her
manner to her husband. Another woman was pining for the
demonstrations of affection he had pledged himself to withhold,
and she could not but read in his altered bearing, his settled
sadness and prolonged seasons of abstracted pensiveness, the
terrible truth that she was no longer adequate to fill his heart,
or make his home what he had avowed it to be in the past ;
yet she strove humbly and prayerfully, if not hopefully, to
contribute all that she could to his comfort and happiness; was,
to all intents and purposes, his slave. She kept up nobly the
forced show of cheerfulness, not to him alone, but with me.
Not an allusion to the unhappy estrangement, brought every
hour to my notice* escaped her lips in our most confidential
moments. Native strength of character and early discipline
had taught her how to endure anguish and make no sign.
The overtried nerves and neglected body failed first. Charles
Moore was aroused from his dream of selfish woe by her sudden
and dangerous illness. For forty-eight hours I question whether
lie ever remembered Janetta Dalrymple's existence, unless, in¬
deed, the thought were one lash in the whip of scorpions held
by Remorse. All through the second night of his wife's sick
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
207
ness, lie walked the floor of the room adjoining her chamber,
in a state of mind bordering upon distraction. With the dawn
came tidings that, at another time, would have awakened a thrill
of holy and happy emotion. When the nurse brought his first¬
born son to him, and would have given him, in proud ceremony,
into his father's arms, the glassy eyes surveyed the tiny stranger
as if they saw him not. There was no movement of fond wel¬
come ; the parched lips articulated but one sentence : " How is
she ? "
She wTas very low ; not rational, and too weak, if she had
been, to see even him.
" It is just ! " he gasped, when the physician reluctantly rec¬
ommended that he should not run the risk of agitating her by
a visit. " It is just — only just ! "
" I must confess that I was surprised at his ready acquies¬
cence in my judgment," said the doctor to me, in describing the
scene. "I was prepared to encounter strenuous opposition.
These very devoted husbands are generally unruly under such
a sentence."
I did not explain the hidden meaning of the exclamation that
sounded to the man of medicine like the utterance of prudent
submission to wise counsel ; but my heart bled for the mis¬
guided being undergoing the agonies of an accusing conscience,
that saw, ia this exclusion from her presence in this fearful
hour, a righteous retribution fur his wilful neglect of her in the
seasons of loneliness and debility, of trial and depression, that
had contributed to bring about this critical condition of reason
and health.
Janetta Dalrymple, now that her illness no longer produced
a sensation, and brought discomfort -to herself only, had found
it convenient to declare it at an end, and made sundry shy
overtures of consolation and sympathy to her kinsman, all of
which he swept aside as if he saw them not. The deeper foim
208
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
tains of his being were stirred, and in these she had no sham
Slowly the beloved one struggled back to sanity and strength.
She gazed, at first vacantly, then with loving anxiety, into the
pale, sorrow-stricken face that now hardly left her bedside, day
and night, more haggard by reason of the effort he made to
smile, as he saw that he was recognized. Once more her tongue
pronounced his name in fond, natural accents ; her cheek was
pillowed upon his breast, while great, scalding tears, he could
not keep back, bedewed her hair. It was not a sight for other
eyes, and I stole away to weep for very gladness.
I wis still in my chamber, and hardly calm again, when a
knock was heard at the door and Miss Janetta answered my
bidding to enter.
" I looked in, on my way to bed, to inquire how Leah — how
Mrs. Moore is now."
" Better," I replied. " Much better, we think, and, at last,
quite sensible."
" You are then more hopeful as to her recovery ? "
" We are — decidedly ! "
She had declined my proffer of a seat, and now stood before
the grate twisting her bracelet — her cousin's gift — until the
soft flesh grew red beneath the friction and pressure.
" It is your design to leave us in a few days, is it not, Miss
Allison? I believe I heard you say something of such an
intention, this morning, to my cousin Charles."
" Yes. I must go very soon. I have lingered already longer
than I expected to do when I came, on account of Leah's ill«
ness."
" You are an orphan like myself, unless I am mistaken ? "
" I am."
She turned slowly towards me and fixed her keen eye upon
mine.
"And this was, in your estimation, a sufficiert reason for the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
209
haired you conceived against me before you had known me a
day, which has manifested itself in innumerable persecutions
ever since ? "
1 answered, in astonishment, that I had never persecuted or
interfered with her in the slightest degree.
She interrupted me. " You have not scrupled to play the
spy upon my actions, and to put the worst possible construction
upon the most innocent of these ; to slander me to Mrs. Moore,
and arouse against me her enmity also ; to sow the seeds of
strife between husband and wife, and all that you might render
this my only home, in the absence of my natural protector, as
intolerable as it was once happy ! Oh, you have clone a good
work m these six weeks — one that you have cause to be proud
of! But I am not here to criminate, or to quarrel with you.
I merely wished, as was but.natural, to notify yon of my pur¬
pose to thwart your righteous designs. So soon as Mrs. Moore
is sufficiently strong to bear the excitement of the disclosure, I
shall, :n the presence of her husband, unravel the whole mys¬
tery of your iniquity; right myself in her eyes or leave ihe
house. Not even your machinations have shaken Ms faith in
rne. You had best make your foundations sure before you
leave your dupe. I give you leave and notice to do this. 1
never fight in the dark — never stab in the back. God defend
the right ! "
" Amen ! " I returned, fervently. " You ought to know, if
you do not, Miss Dairy m pie, that there is not one syllable of
truth in all you have said. I have never acted the spy or in¬
former with respect to yourself or any one else. If I have seen
much in your conduct that appeared inexcusable, according to
my ideas of right and honor, Mrs. Moore is none the wiser for
these impressions and opinions. If she has witnessed yet more
to grieve and displease her, she has been equally dis reset
towards me. I do not expect you to credit this — "
18*
210
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
She interrupted me again with lier mocking, sneering smile
— cool and deadly — the look poor Leah dreaded and disliked
beyond expression.
" You are correct in the supposition. I see no necessity for
a further interchange of compliments. We understand one
another. I have the pleasure of bidding you good-night."
Did T understand her ? Had I then, or could I have any
just conception of the motives, base and pitiful, that urged her
to renewed efforts for the destruction of her unoffending victim's
peace ? And were this accomplished, finally and irretrievably,
what possible benefit could accrue to herself from the consum¬
mate villany, beyond the gratification of a senseless vanity and
petty revenge ? If she indeed loved Charles Moore in an un¬
lawful degree, if he were separated, divorced from his wife and
free to seek his would-be charmer's hand, public scorn and
reprobation would be their portion ; respectful compassion sur¬
round Leah like a shield and halo. Was the girl mad, or
dreaming ? Silly or impetuous I knew she was not. She was
safe in gratifying her spleen by the delivery of lier denuncia¬
tions against me to my face. I comprehended this, as she in¬
tended I should ; knew that she appreciated my i m potency as
thoroughly as I did myself. Not to rescue my good name from
universal ignominy would I have risked Leah's returning life
and senses by ominous sign or speech. I must go and leave
her in happy ignorance of the prepared mine ; could only com¬
mit her to the Helper of the innocent, the Trust of the upright.
The evening before my departure I went to her room, at night¬
fall, to sit with her until tea-time. I had heard Mr. Moore
leave her and run - down stairs, then out of the house, but a
moment before, and surmised correctly that he had gone to
procure some newly-thought-of dainty, wherewith to tempt her
slender and varying appetite. He was continually recollecting
"just the thing" to please her palate and "bring up hef
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
211
strength," and the result was a supply of delicacies, rare,, rich,
and delightful, that would have surfeited a well person. I
moved quietly, not to disturb her, should she feel disposed to
sleep, and when her weak, sweet voice broke the silence of the
dim chamber, I supposed, for a minute, that she was speaking
to me. The latter part of the sentence undeceived me. She
was fondling the babe who lay upon her arm.
"We have had a dear, blessed visit from him this eveninsr,
J C; /
haven't we, baby dear ? Mamma thought once — yes, many
times — that she would never be so full of peace and happiness
again as she is now. We have won him back, my own heaven¬
sent blessing ! "
By this time I had slipped out as noiselessly as I had en¬
tered.
I see that picture yet in my dreams, at times : the shaded
bed, the faint, but expressive outline of the young mother's face
bending lovingly down towards the infant ; I hear the gentle
tones, tremulous with joy as weakness, but I say no more to
her hopeful asservation — " God grant it ! " for mother and
child seem always to be lying upon the crumbling verge of a
precipice.
212
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
CHAPTER Y.
One sultry August evening, seven months after my visit to
the Moores, as my brother and myself were seated at our quiet
tea-table, a servant brought the message that a lady wished to
see me in the parlor.
" She came in a carriage, ma'am, and has a trunk," added
the girl, following me into the hall. " And she seems very
tired ; had I better get her room ready ? "
" By all means ! " And anticipating a meeting with some
cousin or aunt from a distance, I unclosed the parlor door.
A woman had sunk down into a large arm-chair, near the
middle of the apartment, and upon her knees lay a child, ap¬
parently asleep. I had only time to make out this much in
the dusk, when the drooping head of the weary-looking figure
was lifted, and a voice, familiar in spite of its strained cadences,
said with an outburst of hysterical laughter : " I have pre¬
sented myself at your doors uninvited, you see ! "
" Leah, my dear child ! can this be you ? " cried I, hurrying
forward.
She laughed again. " I believe it is ! I am not sure ! He
is asleep !" as I took the child from her lap. " I came off in
such haste that I could not supply the place of his nurse, who
is sick. Then, too, I wanted him all to myself for a little
while, you know. I suppose they could take him from me as
it is, couldn't they ! "
" What an idea ! " said I, cheerily, but with secret and grow*
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
213
ing uneasiness at her strange behavior. " Why, who would
want him ? "
" That is what I try to remember ! Nobody would care to
be troubled with the care of him, except the mother that bore
him. And it does seem to me that mine is the best right. She
never cared for children, and I hope he will let me keep my
boy ! "
" lie is a noble fellow ! " I responded, soothingly, while my
heart throbbed so violently it seemed that it must awaken the
little sleeper in my arms. " We will take him up to bed, and
mamma must have a cup of tea immediately."
Chattering on about the heat of the day, the dust, my delight
at seeing her — about everything that came into my head ex¬
cept the heavy, nameless fear that oppressed my spirit, I led
the way to her chamber. There was a light there, and when
I had deposited my burden upon the bed I went up to Leah,
who stood by a window, and offered to remove lier hat and
mantle. Turning her wild eyes upon me, she whispered, mo¬
tioning towards the servant who was unstrapping the trunk,
" Send her out ! " As the door shut behind the girl, Leah
threw herself upon my neck — " Oh, Maria, will you let me
stay here a little while, until I die ? "
An alarming fit of hysterics succeeded. It was two hours
later when, lying pale and exhausted upon her pillow, her hand
clasped in "mine, she told me the story of her sufferings since
we parted.
Janetta. had not carried out her threat of complaint against
and exposure of my " machinations," in the hearing of both
husband and wife. She had never attempted to traduce me to
Leah, nor was her conduct, throughout the convalescence of
the hitter, in the slightest degree offensive. She was gentle,
respectful, almost affectionate to the woman she had tried so
hard to injure ; accepted gracefully her secondary place in the
2i4
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
household. Her attentions transferred, for the nlost part, from
the husband to the wife, were well-timed and skilful ; her de¬
meanor to Mr. Moore frank and free, kind and cousinly, yet
evincing no desire for a prominent place in his regard, much
less a monopoly of his affections. In the generosity of her
lately-regained happiness, Leah was ready to consider much,
if not all the misery of the past wdnter as the morbid dream
of her imagination. Pier husband had declared, in the most
solemn terms, that she had misinterpreted many of his actions,
and been misled by a diseased fancy in viewing others, and
offered to renounce not only all intimacy but all intercourse
beyond that of the coldest civility, with his cousin. To this
Leah could not consent. It had never been her desire to in¬
terfere between him and his relatives. She felt real pity for
the friendless girl, committed for a time to his guardianship,
and expressed the wish that the mistakes and misunderstand¬
ings of the past should be forgotten, and the three form in fu¬
ture one united family. Nay, she went so far as to urge the
propriety and kindliness of this course upon Charles, when he
hesitated to make the experiment, and doubted whether sepa¬
ration would not be best for all parties.
By imperceptible degrees affairs slid back into their old
train. Janetta's manner lost its deference ; covert taunts and
open sneers, when Mr. Moore was not by, taking the place of
the loving appeal and soft answer. Charles — never harsh or
impatient in speech or look ; generous to supply every ex¬
pressed wish of his wife ; watchful of her health and bodily
comfort — nevertheless yielded, as formerly, to the exigeant
affection or vanity of his so-called sisterly kinswoman, and
was, ere long, as thoroughly her slave as in the dark old days
to which Leah had looked back with trembling ; whose shadow,
she began to feel, was stealing fast after the doubtful brightness
of the present. It was harder to endure in silence, now, than
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
215
it had been then. Her illness had unhinged and enfeebled her
nervous system. She was often irritable and peevish with her
husband — conduct invariably regretted and apologized for by
herself, and attributed by him to her health, when a more
searching inquiry would have revealed to him a deeper cause
in a tortured mind. Too proud to speak ; ashamed to com¬
plain of the work whose beginning was apparently in her own
imprudent confidence ; aware, moreover, that such remonstrance
would be met by the recapitulation of the license she liad
given, she resolved to bear on dumbly until the time for Mr.
Dairymple's return from abroad.
As if no drop were to be wanting in her cup of trial, there
arrived by the steamer in which they had expected him to take
passage a letter, announcing his intention of prolonging his
stay until the autumn. Iiis sister could either remain where
she was, he wrote, or take up her abode for the summer in the
family of another cousin, who resided in the western part of
the State. It was like Janetta Dalrymple to put the letter and
the question to be decided in Mr. Moore's hands, instead of
settling the matter promptly for herself. She had less genuine
self-respect than any other woman I ever knew. Of course
Charles' inclination coincided with gallantry and hospitality in
recommending her further sojourn under his roof. lie was so
incautious as to say as much to her before consulting Leah
upon the subject, and was reminded sadly by his cousin that
there might be an essential difference of opinion upon this point
between the heads of the household. Thus artfully prepared
to expect and resist an unreasonable show of opposition to his
scheme, he sought his wife, and opened up the question in a
tone that showed a foregone conclusion so arbitrary as to render
the form of consultation a mockery. Her timid attempt at
expostulation was met sternly, and her long and carefully re¬
pressed spirit arose in arms. She painted, with the burning
2 Iß
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
emphasis of truth and feeling, the neglect and insult which had
been, and were daily her portion, meted out by the hands of
husband and guest; sketched the probable end of the entangle¬
ment that was constantly binding him more tightly, and was
already the theme of slanderers' tongues, and closed by declar¬
ing that, if lie chose to retain Miss Dalrymple as a member of
his family, she would herself seek some other abode.
"The time has come when you must choose between us ! "
were the words with which she quitted him.
How he broke the decision to Janetta she never inquired ;
but he informed her coldly the next day that she had written
to engage board during the summer months with her distant
O O O
cousin. The letter and its discussion were not named between
Janetta and herself. In the process of time, the serpent in the
house took her departure ; and, in spite of her husband's low¬
ering brow and marked depression of spirits, Leah breathed
more freely. Strong in the might of her love, she believed
that she could yet win him back ; that, if the freshness and
fervor of that early devotion, which is made up of faith and
hope, were gone, there might still be in store for them a tran¬
quil enjoyment of life, and the society of one another and
their boy, that might take from memory its sting. After a
time, the salutary effects of her endeavors after his comfort and
pleasure began to be apparent. He recovered his cheerfulness ;
seemed satisfied and happy in her company, and there was, in
the attentions he was never backward in rendering, an alacrity
and soul whose lack she had felt most painfully while seeing
them continually exhibited in his demeanor to another. If she
suspected that he wrote regularly to his cousin, and received
letters in return, she put the idea out of her mind as soon as
possible, and concealed the hurt his silence upon this head
caused her.
Four days ago, she went on to say, he had told her of ira-
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
217
portant business which would call him away about the middle
of the month, and.might detain him from home for a fortnight
or more. He proposed, thoughtfully and kindly as it seemed
to her, that she should spend the time of his absence with me.
Thanking him for this considerate attention to her wishes, she
promised to think over the matter, and they separated for the
day. Court was in session, and he had to hurry off to be at
his post in season. As she was passing through the upper
hall in the course of the forenoon, she chanced to espy a waste-
paper basket, which the housemaid had brought down from her
master's study and left unemptied until her work in the cham¬
bers should be done. Upon the top of the disorderly pile
of torn manuscripts, old newspapers, etc., lay an unfolded
sheet of letter-paper, white and smooth, and evidently recently
written upon. By a mechanical impulse of carefulness,
prompting lier to see whether this might not have been added
to the -refuse by the servant's blunder, Leah picked it up and
glanced over it.
Voice and strength failed her. She drew a crumpled paper
from her travelling satchel — crumpled and worn as by num¬
berless readings — and passed it to me ; then turned lier face
to the wall. It was an unfinished letter from Charles Moore
to Janetta Dairymple.
" My own darling — my sweet Nettie," was the beginning.
The purport of the communication was that he had made his
arrangements to join the travelling party which was to set out
the next wreek for a fortnight's tour, and accepted, with eager
pleasure, her invitation to become her especial escort.
" And I warn you, my pet, that I will brook no interference
from the ' handsome young collegian ' of whom you try to
make me jealous—you witch! The thought of having you
all to myself for two long weeks has almost set me crazy with
joy. L. will probably pay Miss Allison a visit while we are
19
218
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
gone. " I say { we ' to you, not lier. You and I, my poor
darling, have suffered too intensely from her absurd jealousy
and prejudices in times past for me to run the risk of provok¬
ing the sleeping demon by revealing the direction of my journey,
or in what company it will be made. I have sacrificed my
inclinations and happiness to her so often during the last year,
that I am surely justifiable in seeking something like heart-
pleasure now. I shall count the moments until we meet — "
Here the delectable effusion had stopped. The date was
the very morning upon which Leah discovered the waif. He
had undoubtedly forgotten it in his haste when he found that
he was behind time. She told me briefly by and by, how she
had heard him that evening inquiring of the servant whether
she had taken a letter from his table, and blaming her, with
unwonted harshness, for having, as she confessed, picked up
one from the floor and put it among the waste matter, adding
that it was well she had burned everything she had taken
down, since there were papers in the basket he would not have
meet other eyes for a thousand dollars. For two days she
had to keep this terrible secret locked up in heart and brain ;
to act and speak as usual ; to forego mourning over the love
and hopes now indeed lost — buried forever ; then she calmly
kissed him " Farewell ! " held up his boy for a parting caress ;
and, with tearless eyes, beheld him depart to happiness and
her successful rival. Her own trunk was already packed,
and she took the next train for the town in which was my
home.
She poured out the story with a rapid incoherence that
would have made me question the verity of certain portions,
but for the* unmistakable evidence of the letter. Smothering
my indignation, I tried to persuade her to sleep, for her child's
Bake, if not her own.
" lily boy ! yes — I know ! Put his cradle just here, where
HUSBANDS ANT) HOMES.
I can lay ray hand upon it, and be sure the door is locked,
[»lease ! They may try to rob me of him ! He Li all they
have left me — everything ! "
The fearful misgiving awakened in my mind by her first
burst of emotion was too true ! Her sorrow and its unnatural
suppression had affected her mind. In this persuasion, I made
an excuse of her apprehensions on her babe's account to insist
upon remaining with her all night. She accepted the offer
thankfully, and with an effort at self-command, that reminded
me of the Leah of other times — when I had darkened the
room and lain down upon a lounge, as if for repose •— she
closed her eyes and tried to compose herself to slumber. She
had rested thus but a few minutes, when a low laugh, so hollow
and desolate in its meaning that it chilled my blood, came to
my ears.
" Maria, they named me rightly, did they not ? We could
hardly have blamed Jacob, had he deserted Leah entirely for
the better-beloved Rachel ! "
I would that I could obliterate from my mind as I can keep
from my readers' eyes the scenes of the week that followed.
After that fearful laugh and the accompanying words, there
gleamed not one ray of reason upon her fevered brain for seven
weary days and nights. She did not recognize her idolized
boy, and talked to me as to a stranger. Oh ! the matchless
tenderness — the depth of woe revealed by the ravings of
those dreadful hours! Wronged! deceived! deserted! thus
arose the climax of woes upon which she had pondered until
she had gone mad — and what wonder ?
My brother wrote and telegraphed in various directions foi
Mr, Moore. His partner in business had been furnished, as
had Leah, also, before Charles left home, with the names of
two or three places where communications wrould be likely to
intercept him, and there had arrived two letters for Mrs. Moore
220
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
forwarded by the above-named gentleman to our address, but
the postmarks lipon these gave no additional clue to the wan¬
derer's whereabouts, and, as we learned subsequently, none of
our messages or notes reached him on the route.
Upon the eighth day, the sick woman awoke from sleep,
sensible, calm — dying !
m I have dreamed of my mother, Maria ! " she whispered, a
smile of holy peace illumining her wan features. " Do you
remember those words : ' As one whom his mother comforteth ? '
I do not die alone while you and she are here—and there is
One nearer and dearer yet ! "
The eyes, large and lustrous, looked steadfastly upwards;
the lips moved without sound. There was no need of audible
language in that communion ! Then she asked for her babe,
and, while he laughed in her face and cooed his gladness at
seeing her again, she laid her hand upon his head and breathed
a blessing.
" B lifTor him, death would be all sweetness. As it is, I
find it very easy ! "
Even in that awful hour, my thoughts ran swiftly back to
another night — three short years before — when her full,
happy tones had sunk with the weight of w hat I now read as
fulfilled prophecy.
" God knows how constant and earnest is my prayer that I
may make him as happy as he deserves to be ! If the power
is denied me, I shall find death very sweet ! "
Oh, my poor, poor friend ! She had not to wait long for
the welcome guest, and his coming was painless as peaceful.
Her last words were, " Give my love to Charles!" Of his
infidelity and Janetta's vile treachery, she did not once speak.
Already, before the "Weary sank to rest, the wicked had ceased
to trouble her. At that very moment, according to the testi¬
mony of a member of the travelling party, Charles Moore was
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
221
waltzing with Janetta Dairy in pie in the ballroom of a fashion
able watering-place.
When he came to us, frenzied by the tidings that had m( t
him upon his return to his home, his wife had slept in the
grave for three days. I concealed nothing froni him. I could
not feel that he deserved mercy at my hands, although it was
plain that his heart's blood welled at every stab. It was im¬
possible for him to suffer as he had made her do, I reasoned
savagely, yet half terrified at the sight of his horror of re¬
morse.
"For pity's sake, no more!" he groaned, at last. "You
will kill me ! My poor girl ! Heaven is my witness that I
did love her to the end ! I never dreamed of wronging her !
If she had lived I could have explained everything ! "
How, he did not say, nor did I care to inquire ; but I
imagine that he would have attempted a repetition of the ar¬
guments and assertions that had brought balm to her wounded
spirit upon a former occasion. I suppose he assuaged his torn
conscience with these ; purchased from it rest and forgiveness,
as lie would have hoped to buy hers, had she survived the
blow he had dealt her, for he wedded Janetta Dalrymple in
less than eighteen months afterwards.
I am thankful that, before this event took place, the sinless
babe was gathered to his mother's arms, perhaps in answer to
that mother's prayers. I am glad in the thought that in that
high home of perfect peace, no knowledge or memory is per¬
mitted to enter that could mar the serenity of the tried and
faithful, of whom the world was not worthy.
They say that Mr. Moore lives happily with his new wife,
and it may b.e so. Justice and judgment are not of this life.
1 knew that when Leah died !
19*
HOMESPUN AND VELVET
CHAPTER I.
" I wish I could preach as I would wish to young people
upon the evils of premature engagements," said Mr. Coleman,
earnestly.
" Suppose you begin with the present audience ; or does
your philanthropy disdain so limited a sphere ? " suggested a
young man, who, with a lady, composed said " audience."
The elderly gentleman smiled quizzically beneath his spec¬
tacles. " What if I were to say that I do not consider either
of you in danger of entering too early into such obligations ?
that, speaking plainly, I regard you as having attained unto the
age of discretion ? Ungallant — am I not, Kate ?" — tapping
her on the head.
She answered the smile with one as free from embarrass¬
ment as his was from malicious meaning.
"I forgive you, sir, for my share of reproach, since you do
not hint that I have gained the age without the discretion, or
insinuate the rarity of temptations to commit the rashness you
condemn. But what has given occasion for this outbreak of
desire to lecture upon early betrothals ? "
" Nothing in our conversation, certainly," said the young
man. " We were speaking of Mr. Cameron's arrival at the
Hotel, and the public reception in contemplation among
our citizens."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
2_A3
" I saw him a moment to-day," returned Mr. Coleman. " lie
lws grown old rapidly since our last meeting. I have known
him for years ; indeed, we were college-mates ! Poor fellow ! "
" In what does he call for your pity ? " questioned Kate.
Is his domestic life unhappy ? "
"As unhappy as his public career is brilliant —as miserable
as the whimsical exactions of a peevish, sickly woman can
render it — as burdensome as the companionship of a badly
educated, narrow-minded wife can make matrimonial shackles."
" Uncle, how unkind ! Do you know the lady ? "
" I have seen her in her own house, where she was unami-
able and slatternly —- in society, where she strove to play the
agreeable. Silly she was everywhere."
" I am surprised ! Why did he marry her ? What could
have attracted him ? "
" It is the same old story. You have heard it a hundred
times of other men as high in intellect, and in standing as dis¬
tinguished — a college love-affair, a match made by propin¬
quity, which brings about more marriages than harmony of
sentiment, personal charms, or mercenary motives. He was at
the age when courting ' comes easy,' is almost a necessity to a
youth imaginative and affectionate as he was. He boarded with
lier widowed mother. The daughter was reasonably good-looking,
and eighteen. The result might have been foreseen. They weie
married at the conclusion of his course. A ow — heigh-ho ! "
" Perhaps he does not feel her deficiencies," Kate said, gently.
" He is accustomed to her peculiarities ; and they are doubt¬
less less offensive to him than to strangers. If he is really at¬
tached to her, he is willing to overlook whatever is objection*'
able in manner or mind."
" A husband does get used to foibles," answered her uncle.
" Faults, love overlooks and forgives. Neither habit nor love
can ever reconcile him to utter dissimilarity of character and
224
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
taste. Cameron committed a fatal error — fatal to Iiis happa
ness, ruinous to his peace of mind. It is a pity, a sad pity ! "
The third person of the little group was toying with a
spool of silk, abstracted from Kate Dinmore's work-basket,
lie unwound and rewound the shining thread with an appear¬
ance of great carelessness, and did not raise his eyes to Mr.
Coleman's face, as he said : " The perfectly paired are then the
only people who are happy in wedlock, according to your ideas,
sir? The odds are frightful that not one couple in a thousand
will reach your standard."
" I said nothing of perfection, Harry. I would, however,
have a man who thinks seriously of matrimony satisfy himself
by strict examination, and every test that is within his reach,
that his heart is filled, from its lowest depth to its brim, by the
object of his choice. Especially would I have him try this
choice by a ripe judgment. In these affairs, the sometimes
excellent maxim, ' Let well enough alone,' is pernicious in the
highest degree. It sickens me," continued the old gentleman,
rising, and walking the floor, '-to see men select wives, and
worse still, women select husbands, with less care and thought
than the one would manifest in the purchase of a horse, or the
other of a silk robe. If the private records of the households
thus formed could be exposed for the benefit of the giddy crea¬
tures pressing on in their footsteps, the road would be less
thronged. How few realize that the contract formed—after
half a dozen weeks, it 'may be days of acquaintanceship — is
for life ! that the vows assumed in the flush of admiration for
a pretty face or engaging demeanor, or nonchalantly spoken
upon the s well-enough ' system, can be annulled only by death !
Wretched homes, hollow faith, empty hearts — if they could
but look forward to these ! "
" You are excited, uncle ! " remonstrated Kate, winningljr,
laying her hand on his arm, and checking him as he passed
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
her. "We feel compassion for Mr. Cameron, not in the same
measure with yourself, perhaps but why need we or you be¬
moan what cannot be helped? We have 110 sad memories of
disappointed hopes and lonely hearteduess to brood over, and
trust in Providence and our own right feeling to keep us from
such a deplorable lifetime mistake."
He stood on the rug, looking gloomily into the grate. " A
lifetime mistake! that is the term! a mistake whose conse¬
quences are the same as if it had been a sin instead." He
resumed his seat, still holding the hand of his favorite niece.
She exchanged a glance of mingled curiosity and uneasiness
with her other companion. this clouded mood was most una-
X.
sual with the sunny-tempered old man. Somewhat eccentric
he was, and a free, earnest speaker of opinion and feeling, but
rarely melancholy — never morose. " Kate," he recommenced,
softly, his eyes fixed, as in reverie, upon the red coals, " did Í
tell you — did your mother remember that this is an anniver¬
sary with me — my wedding-day ? "
" No, sir."
"She was grave, for his wife had slept the long sleep for many
years. lie was a childless man and a solitary one, but for the
society of his sister's family, whose home he could not be
prevailed upon to make hie own.
" I am sixty years old. Thirty-seven years ago to-night I
was married. You have heard your parents speak of my wife
— and you, too, Harry, for your father and mother knew her
well."
" They have described her to me as very lovely in person
and disposition," replied Harry, with respectful tenderness.
" She was ! she was ! If she had a fault, I never discov¬
ered it. Beautiful in person, ingenuous in character, amiable
and guileless as a child ! She was a chdd, nothing mure. 1
knew her to be pure and excellent, too good for me; yet —
22 G
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
with shame I own it — when I placed the wedding-ring upon
her finger, when I spoke the words that made her mine, I also
knew, felt in my inmost soul,.that she was not the other self
Providence had formed for me ; that, however closely our
hands might be joined, our hearts were yet two, not the bliss¬
ful, beautiful one the Creator had ordered the twain to become
ore pronouncing the solemn form. We had been acquainted
but a month when we were betrothed. Our engagement lasted
two years. Our residences were too far apart to allow me to
pay her more than four visits a year ; but at each of these I
discerned more clearly, first with wonder, finally with an in¬
describable sinking of spirit, the want of congeniality in our
natures, the narrowing of the common ground upon which wé
could meet. I strove to interest her in my aims and hopes in
life, the principles that conducted, the aspirations that nerved
me. I sketched our future, in the working out of which bright
consummation I craved her aid, her sympathy, her counsel.
Not a chord thrilled at my touch. Her love was childlike and
absolute, her dependence unquestioning. What I told lier, she
adopted as true, with as little thought as suspicion. For some,
to many men, she Would have been the impersonation of the
ideal perfect wife. I was young, impatient, ambitious, and —
I must say it — selfishly unreasonable. Indifferent to most of
my schemes — indifferent because she did not understand their
bearing, or appreciate my interest in them — plastic as wax to
my hand though she was, she would never, I discovered, real¬
ize my hope of a helpmate. I must think, feel, act alone.
Bitterly have I understood since how slight was the value I
then set upon the priceless virtues that adorned the character
seemingly so tame. I misjudged the worth to me of her sin¬
gleness of devotion, her never-failing labors for my outward
comfort, her patient sweetness of temper, things for which
Cameron would barter fame and wealth. I loved 110 one be«
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
227
sides her. Thank Heaven. I was guiltless thus far ! My heart
was empty when I took my wife to my home ; and if she
failed to fill it, no intruder ever invaded the precincts she
believed sacred to herself."
" She never knew, then ! " interrupted Kate, eagerly. " Oh,
I am glad ! " Her cheek burned ; her eyes were tearful.
" No ! for ten years, we lived, and not unhappily, together.
I had wronged, had cheated her, as I soon saw when the reserve
of the girl gave place to the gentle fondness of the wife — always
evident, never obtrusive. I stood appalled at the act I had
committed. Honor had urged me to the redemption of my
plighted word. In the name of honor, I had perjured myself
to Heaven and to her; had deceived her who I vowed should
be the sharer of every thought, beloved and cherished as my
own life. Humanity and a sense of her right constrained me
to keep up the delusion. In plain terms, I must break her
heart or live a lie ! As I have said, for ten years the false
show beguiled even her eyes of affection. Not a syllablô of
altercation, not a cold tone was ever exchanged between us.
If she had an ungratified wish, it was because she failed to
express it in my hearing. "With her lust breath, she blessed
me as 'the fondest and truest of husbands.' The dying hour
is an honest time, I have heard, for the spirit that departs and
those who receive its farewells ; but I did not undeceive her.
In another world, I would fain hope that infinite goodness and
love withhold from her knowledge which compassion and justice
prevented me from imparting here.'
There was a pause. Kate's face was averted, but glistening
pearls fell unheeded into her lap. Harry Eldredge had reeled
off all the silk from the spool, and was knotting it into tangled
meshes. At length, he broke the silence.
" Yet, according to your own confession, you were not un¬
happy, sir. May it not be true that, during those years of quiet
228
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
contentment, you knew as much of enjoyment, more of peace,
than you would have had in a so-called ' love-match ? ' You
were disappointed in the picture of wedded felicity your boyish
imagination had painted; but were there not as few shades in
the actual scene ? "
" Did I say that I wis happy ? I think you misunderstood
me, Harry."
u He did ! " Kate interposed, without looking up. " You
said, or meant to say, that your union, in itself, was not one of
wretchedness. I can understand how an unsatisfied heart must
ever be restless, schooled and kept down though it may be."
m You surely would not have, liad your uncle act differently,
Miss Kate ? "
The speech was sudden, with a touch of indignation in it.
" I do not know ; I cannot decide," said the girl, sadly and
slowly. " He adopted' his course conscientiously ; he had his
reward in his conscience and in his wife's dying testimony to
his persistence in this line of duty. But"—and here she
lifted her head, a scarlet flush on her brow and a flash in her
humid eyes — "I feel that if I had been in her place I should
have detected the truth, consummate as his acting may have
been. Forgive me, uncle, but you have always urged me to
speak plainly, and to-night have set me the example. My hus¬
band could never have blinded me — deceived firy instinct;
and my sole reproach to him, upon the discovery of the terri¬
ble truth, would have been that he had not told me all before
the irrevocable step was taken — all, his self-deception at the
'first, or his changed affection, whichever had brought about
tllis state of affairs. I hold the letter of an engagement lighter
ö O O
than the lightest air, if the spirit be wanting. «From the letter
of a loveless marriage, there is no release." She looked tim¬
idly in the sorrowful countenance of her uncle, to the stern,
settled features of his friend, and added, hesitatingly : " This,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
229
however, is m hat my feeling, not my judgment, says — what
would be my action—not the recommendation of a general
principle™
"And, in,like manner, must every one decide in his or her
peculiar case," Mr. Coleman said, throwing off his meditative
air, and speaking in his accustomed firm accents. " With such
bitterness as these heart-trials bring, the stranger should not
ntermeddle. One thing is certain : the main fault, the un¬
doubted false step lay back of all the years of which I have
spoken. The wrong starting-point was the hasty engagement."
" Yours is a sad history," observed young Eldredge. " I
cannot agree with you, however, in thinking it a common case.
Why should it be ? "
« Why, indeed," echoed Mr. Coleman, " unless that youth is
apt to mistake fancy for feeling, impulse for judgment ? Believe
me, Harry, men do not generally tell of such disappointments,
and women sedulously shield from public gaze everything that
could betray the woful shipwreck of love an-d hope. Candor,
such as I have displayed to-night, is seldom met with, or you
would soon learn your error in believing my experience singu¬
lar. Look into these matters for yourself, my boy ! I have
turned out my heart-lining for you -— why, I cannot exactly
say. It is not often that I am confidential upon this subject.
I never said so much before to living man or woman ; but you
two are my children, as it were, and a certain inward tempter
has led me on, perhaps too far. Maybe, Harry," with an effort
of playfulness, " I have heard some ominous whispers touching
your visits to that Happy Valley beyond the mountains. Look
before you leap ; and, having looked and determined upon the
venture, may safety and happiness attend you ! "
" Thank you, sir."
•> *
The laugh that attended the brief sentence was short and
forced.
20
230
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" And as for you, Katy," caressingly, " forget your uncle's
sober story, and smile for me once more before I go. My love
to your mother ; I am sorry lier headache has kept her in her
room this ev.ening. Take care of her, my dear, and don't be
in too great a hurry to quit lier, if you have reached the age of
discretion.'
He kissed the saucily pouting lips, and received from lier
his hat and cane. Harry Eldredge likewise arose to go.
" It is not late," Mr. Coleman remarked, in some surprise.
" Do not let me hasten your movements."
u I cannot stay longer, sir, much as I would like to prolong
my visit. There are letters which must be written before I
rest to-night."
" Does the ITappy Valley mail go out to-morrów ? " asked
the senior.
Again Harry colored and tried to laugh. There was a gleam
of pleasantry in Kate's face, yet she looked sorry at his early
departure. A perception of this feeling on her part had nearly
made him resign his purpose.; but resisting the temptation by
a resolute effort, he left the house with her uncle. The paths
of the two parted ere long. The elder held on his deliberate
way down the quiet street, whereupon stood his residence; the
younger quickened his gait at the instant of their separation.
Faster and faster rang his iron he-el upon the pavement, as
urged to speed by impatience or necessity. Arrived at his
lodgings, he went up the stairs three at a bound, to his own
room. The lamp, when lighted, revealed a pale countenance,
which care had touched since the " good-night " was said at
Mrs. Dinmore's door. lie cast aside his hat, and wiped the
perspiration from his forehead.
" Let me think," he said, half aloud ;— " if I can ! "
A turn or two through the chamber seemed to prepare him
foi reflection. He seated himself at the table, and drew from
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
231
a portfolio an unfinished letter. It Avas read over with more
thought than had been expended in its composition, then put,
almost tossed down, with a sigh. An hour of deep and painful
muring followed. At its close, the thousand warring emotions
that had striven together upon his face were banished by an
expression of determination the most daring Avould have shrunk
from opposing — a look that succeeded the signs of mental
disquiet like the clearing-up of a December storm, when,
through the widening rifts of cloud-banks, appears the hard
gray-blue of the Avinter sky, more threatening and pitiless than
the tempest.' Drawing towards him the rejected sheet, he be¬
gan to write out a conclusion. No love-letter was ever tran¬
scribed Avith such even pulses as beat in the Avrist that upheld
the pen. The stony repose of feature remained unaltered to
the close; yet the subject Avould carry excitement to the far-off
reader for Avhom the epistle Avas designed. It was one Avhich
is rarely named by those personally interested in it, Avithout
stirring emotion. There Avere here and there phrases of en¬
dearment, and these, too, Avere set down with mechanical regu¬
larity — conscientiously, one might have said — as if the Avriter
were bent upon the fulfilment of the self-imposed duty in all
its minutiae and to the utmost.
Thus read the addenda to the document, incomplete at his
entrance : —
" And now, my dear Mildred, do not be startled at my ap¬
proach to a topic Avhich vitally concerns us both. The thought
of our union should, by this time, have become too familiar to
us for the mention of it to agitate either. But, hitherto, Ave
have A'iewed it as a distant event, as a promise, rather than a
coming, a nearing reality. The time has at length arrived for
more practical consideration. I have turned the matter over
and over in my mind Avith regard to its bearing upon my other
\ dations in life, my business prospects, etc., and have come ta
232
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
the settled conclusion that the period of my piobation should
be almost , at an end, that there is no visible obstacle to our
speedy marriage. I would not appear arbitrary in my avowal
of this opinion and my inevitable desire that the necessary
arrangements should be instantly commenced. But have you
not, my dearest girl, given over to me the right to judge when
will be the fittest season for the fruition of this long-cherished
hope ? Your conduct has been beyond praise, equally removed
from prudish affectation and the impatience which is the off¬
spring of distrust. Two years ago, you frankly acknowledged,
in reply to my questionings, that you were ready to seal the
compact we entered into when we were yet girl and boy. It
has assumed a more solemn and binding form since that early
plighting ; but I have faith in you to believe that your con¬
stancy has kept pace with your sense of the importance of the
pledges then given. I know you to be true as- steel. Not
a syllable of doubt, not an upbraiding sentence has ever passed
from you to me; while I have often appeared inconsistent and
petulant. May my heart cease to beat before I slight youï
fidelity, or prove ungrateful for your love !
u But it is with facts, more than with sentiment, that I must
deal to-night. Your preparations — so you once informed me
— would not occupy much time. Neither will mine. Write
as soon as you can after the receipt of this, and state the earliest
day 011 which you can leave your present home for that which
I hope to have ready for you in due time, however soon that
happy time may be."
" How cold and business-like ! " exclaims a fair reader, who
treasures, in a jealously locked drawer, a ribbon-bound packet
of letters, whose bulk is increased every few days by corpulent
envelopes, all bearing the same handwriting.
"Very proper and sensible !" pronounces Miss Prim; "so
different from the love-sick flummery girls are fed upon now
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
a-days, until they are married! then — " A shrug and an
acid smile finish the sentence.
The epistle, folded, sealed, and directed, lay on the table.
Harry leaned back in his chair, and looked at it. It was as¬
suredly not the novelty of the address that attracted his gaze,
for he had written it at least once every week for three years.
Mildred Farrar's parents were near and intimate neighbors
of the Eldredges ; and the companionship of the young people,
during Harry's summer vacations, was a thing of course. He
had just turned his twenty-first year, and completed one session
of his legal studies, when an attack of fever converted this
usual season of enjoyment into one of suffering and languish¬
ing. The fury of the disease expended its force in a short
time ; but it left him in a state of deplorable weakness, con¬
demned to a slow and discouraging convalescence. It was
esteemed by all a happy chance that made Mildred the guest
of Mrs. Eldredge through, the weary weeks that must otherwise
have seemed endless in their tedium to the invalid. Mr. and
Mrs. Farrar were absent upon a visit to some distant relatives ;
and their daughter was left in the indulgent charge of thgir
friendly neighbor. Harry, wrote truth when he spoke of his
fiancee's freedom from affectation. In the care she gradually
came to exercise over him, the thousand attentions she rendered
so quietly and delicately that only the recipient was aware of
half he owed her, there was such singleness of desire for his
comfort, so much unconscious self-denial, that he was won to
gratitude, then to admiration, then to a warmer, stronger feel¬
ing, which, according to his reasoning, could be nothing but
love. Ile was in the heyday season of waking dreams ; and
among the many ambitious prospects hung in the picture-
gallery of his imagination was an unpretending domestic scene,
dearer than all the rest, a sketch of the home which was to be
his, and the presence that should fill it with beauty and affec-
20#
234
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
lion. He coulcl not have told when or ho'w the veil dropped
from the features of his incognita, when his household di¬
vinity stepped from her pedestal, and sat down, the woman
and the wife, beside his liearth-stone. The revelation was not
sudden, for he did not start when he found himself associating
his nurse with every vision of the future, following her move¬
ments witlr an eye that bespoke something of a proprietor's
interest in all she said and did. Hers was the lightest step
about his couCli — hers the most dexterous hand to smooth his
pillows, or prepare refreshment, or adjust the furniture ac¬
cording to his capricious taste — hers the sweetest voice that,
in conversation, reading, and song, invoked ease and slumber.
As the day of parting drew near, the thought of his solitary
city-lodging filled him with dread. Still beset by the nervous
fancies of sicknèss, he persuaded himself and Mildred that it
would be the most comfortless of earthly habitations, if unblessed
by the ray of hope which she alone could shed upon the dark¬
ness — the anticipation of another abode which she should
christen " home " for the lonely man. They parted— plighted
lovers—■ the one to engage in a hand-to-hand strife with the
O O
world, and, in conquering, to gain character and manliness, the
knowledge of people and things as they are, to cultivate the
talents that promised him the eminence he craved, and the
tastes that brought delight to himself, and distinction for him
O O 7
in the eyes of others ; while she, remaining in her original
obscurity, ignorant of his aims and her own deficiencies,
changed in nothing from the girl he had wooed that idle,
dreaming summer.
It was, in brief, as Mr. Coleman would have said, " the
same old story," one which is repeated so often in our ears,
acted so continually before our eyes, that few, save those who
have borne some share of the suffering ever interwoven with
the drama, heed its sadly warning moral, " A mistake for a
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
235
lifetime ! " I know, as I write the words, that my pen probes
many sore and aching hearts — pierces the crust of indifference
to the hidden fester that makes all within to be shunned as
hateful — strikes, like steel from flint, the telltale spark from
petrifactions that were hearts once, hearts that throbbed,
burned, bled, grew chill and numb, and froze into stone.
Harry had disciplined his well ; curbing fancy, and turning
a deaf ear to a regretful murmur, that sounded oftenest and
most mournfully through his soul when lie was at Mildred's
side, or read her letters. His rigid notions of duty and honor
were stalwart supporters of his constancy ; nor was there want¬
ing a species of philosophy, convenient and fashionable, which
sneered down Utopian ideas of wedded felicity, oneness of
spirit and heart, and lowered the standard of wifely perfection
to suit circumstances. Mr. Coleman's story had called the
insurgent principles, for the first time, into the open field. We
have seen with what stringency of action, what boldness of
manœuvre, their march was arrested. But a partial reaction
succeeded this unmerciful measure. Tender recollections,
anguish unavailing, contended with the stern officer, Duty.
Mildred's miniature was worn habitually about his person.
He took it now from its hiding-place, and laid it, side by side,
upon the table, with an exquisite engraving he had purchased
a few days before — lie hardly acknowledged why, even to
himself, nor what caused him to put it away with such care in
a secret compartment of his portfolio, instead of leaving it ex¬
posed to the gaze of any chance visitor. He knew, now, saw
and understood the motive which had tempted him to make
himself its possessor, and to guard it from profane eyes. A
wonderfully accurate likeness of Kate Dinmore looked up at
him from the paper. The arch mouth, the full, eloquent eyes,
the air of spirited intelligence, softened by native sweetness of
temper and the practice of whatever is lovely in womanhood —
23 G
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
these could not have been more faithfully copied had she sat
for the picture which purported to be a fancy sketch. As
Harry studied it, it took, to his sight, a new expression, that
of half pain, half wonder that had embarrassed her smile as he
announced his intention of concluding, at so early an hour, his
visit of that evening. For a moment, Memory was traitorous
to Duty's'trust. Glancing backward, he gathered many similar
evidences of pleasure in his society, some more marked than
this transient but unmistakable token — remembered how they
had never been strangers to each other, but friends from their
earliest meeting — how their sympathies and opinions, if not
always in unison, had invariably harmonized — how every
interview had drawn him nearer to her, revealed new beauties
in mind and disposition.
" Do you love her, then ? " demanded Conscience.
" No ! " he answered, aloud ; " but " — and he set his teeth
upon his under lip, and spoke through them — "I could have
done it ! loved her, oh, so much more — "
He grasped the engraving, made as though he would have
pressed it to his lips, but restrained the impulse, and, with an
unshaking hand, held it in the flame of the lamp. A quick
blaze, a shuddering and shrivelling of the burnt paj und the
ashes dropped thickly upon the miniature beneath.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
287
CHAPTER II.
Mrs. Harry Eldredge's appearance in the society of
which her husband was a popular member was looked for with
interest and curiosity. Mrs. Dinmore gave her the introduc¬
tory party.
" Have you seen the bride yet, Kate ? " asked Elvira
Moseley, a lively rattle. " Rut I suppose you have, as you
and Mr. Eldredge are such intimate friends. She was out
when I called. What is she like ? Is she pretty, sensible,
agreeable ? Do tell me ! I am devoured by the desire to see
something of the unknown enchantress who has borne off the
prize for which we have been pulling caps these two years
past.
' We sadly think, as we stand about,
With spite and envy dying,
How the merest stranger has cut us out,
With only half our trying.'
Do enlighten me, Kate ! "
" I have been waiting a quarter of an hour for an opportu¬
nity to do so," answered Kate, smiling. " Let me see if I can
reply, in the right order, to your queries. I have seen the
bride. She was in when I paid my visit. She is pleasant in
face and manner, and, so far as I could j udg-e, in the course of
our short conversation, not deficient in sense. She may be the
' merest stranger ' to us, but Mr. Eldredge has known her a
long time ; they have been engaged for nearly four years."
238
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
"Indeed! Hie wicked flirt! not to have told us, all the
while we were breaking our hearts and losing other chances
O O
almost, if not quite, as eligible, in the hope of securing him!
Parlez clu — no matter whom—but see him! or them, as I
must learn to say, I suppose. O dear ! "
Mr. Coleman stood by his sister, as the newly-married pair
paid their respects ; and to him Harry next presented his wife.
" You must allow the privilege of a familiar friend, my dear
madam," said the old gentleman, kindly, holding out his hand.
" I want to prove to you, moreover, that I entertain no grudge
towards you for having robbed me of the society of my favorite
companion."
Mrs. Eldredge smiled and looked at lier husband. He waited
an instant, in the hope, it wmuld seem, that she wmuld reply to
the salutation herself, then responded for her : " She is as in¬
nocent of the intent to rob as of the deed, sir. You shall not
shake me off so easily ; you will still see more of me than you
wish, I am afraid." And they passed on.
A while later, Mr. Coleman was again in their vicinity, not
accidentally, but through desire to see and know more of the
object of his friend's choice. She was just then engaged by
Mrs. Moultrie, a lady whom Harry particularly liked and ad¬
mired, but whom he appeared now to avoid. This inclination
she thwarted by stepping into Iiis path, and confronting him
with a congratulatory smile and a word of welcome. She said
some pleasant phrase to Mrs. Eldredge, as they were intro¬
duced, and received, as Mr. Coleman had done, a smile of
pleasure. Mrs. Moultrie persevered. She spoke of the native
valley of the bride, well known to her by the reports of admir¬
ing tourists, and which she had once seen with her own eyes,
many years before.
" A great, many improvements are going on there now," re¬
marked Mrs. Eldredge. " There is some talk of running a
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
239
failimad through it. The surveyors have been at work in the
mountains for I don't know how long."
"It is almost a pity —— is it not?" said Mrs. Moultrie.
" Think of the steam-whistle piercing the stillness of those
grand solitudes ! And, instead of enjoying the prospect from
the summit, I suppose we are to be whirled through a dark,
stifling tunnel, cut in the very heart of the mountain."
" I hope they will conclude to lay the track, and make haste
about it," returned Mrs. Eldredge. " There will be a beau¬
tiful view of the cars from my father's house, and I can get
there so easily ! "
" We trust, in time, to lessen the weight of that consideration,"
smiled Mrs. Moultrie. " We will do our best to reconcile you
to your new residence ; or, are your rural tastes so confirmed
that you cannot tolerate city life? "
" I don't know much about town ; I never was here but once
before," answered the bride. I get along pretty well, only I
can't drink the water, and I didn't fancy the milk at the board¬
ing-house. I have heard that the city milk is nothing but
chalk and water."
" This inoffensive, quiet place of ours is often styled a moral
Sahara by country-bred misanthropes," interrupted Harry, with
an effort at easy gayety. " You perceive that Mrs. Eldredge
considers it as a desert in another sense, Mrs. Moultrie."
" Come and see me frequently, Mrs. Eldredge," pursued
that lady ; " I live almost in the country —- quite upon the .out¬
skirts of this thirsty land. You shall have clear well-water
and real milk in abundance."
it h an injunction to Harry to bring his wife to visit her
very soon, she was turning away, when Mrs. Dinmorc ap¬
proached.
" You are a musician, I am sure, Mrs. Eldredge. Mr. El-
dredge's love and taste for music are a guarantee of your skill.
210
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
I have heard that you used to sing away pain and weariness
from him, in that most fortunate sickness of his. You see, I
have heard one early chapter of your romance."
Mildred colored high. " I do not play at all, ma'am. I took
lessons when I was at school, but I have not touched a piano
for eighteen months and more."
Mrs. Moultrie, and even the less critical hostess, misinter¬
preted the confusion apparent throughout this speech. The
shyness with which the young wife shrank from the jesting al¬
lusion to the courtship she had been taught to regard as a thing
not to be talked of in general company was, to the polished
dames, mere gaucherie, or the shame she felt in confessing'her
inability to comply with the request made of her.
" Commonplace in person and mind ; destitute of grace of
manner without accomplishments ; not wealthy ; — why did
he marry her ? " was Mrs. Moultrie's mental comment, as she
mingled with the crowd.
Had it been repeated aloud to the bridegroom, he would not
have felt more certain as to her judgment.
Mr. Coleman, too, had been an auditor of the above eonver
sation, and had now withdrawn to a little distance, although
his design had plainly been to join the young couple. Harry's
cheeks tingled with mortification at the suggestion of his sen¬
sitive pride, that the practised eye of his Mentor had already
divined the true state of the case. A riddle the match might
be to others besides Mrs. Moultrie ; but, in the involuntary
shake of his head, in the sympathy expressed by Mr. Cole¬
man's benevolent features, the conscious husband saw that this
union was classified — recalled the despairing emphasis with
which he had said of another's domestic infelicity : " The same
old story," and " a mistake for a lifetime." He bad never
spent a more uncomfortable evening ; his irritation found fresh
goads at every step. Ile was annoyed if his wife failed to
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
241
talk, as she often did, when she could not, so to speak, find
anything in the remarks addressed to her to hang a reply upon.
Of the art of small talk she was absolutely ignorant ; badinage
and repartee wrere terms as strange to lier as their practice
would have been difficult. When she did speak, his vexation
was in no wise abated by nervousness lest she should commit
some gross offence against custom or good taste, and the neces¬
sity this imposed upon him to watch for these transgressions,
and cover them as dexterously as he could. There are certain
tones and inflections of voice, acquired insensibly, rather than
studied, by persons of education and refinement, which are not
to be mistaken by the initiated, and are noticeable in the .brief¬
est sentence. On the other hand, who does not recognize the
truth that the uncultivated accents, the provincialisms^ of the
illiterate ör careless stamp him as such, ere he can articulate
half a dozen words ? Mildred was not illiterate in the ordinary
acceptation of the word, but she was provincial, and her range
of thought had hitherto been as limited as her experience. It
may have been a false shame that caused Harry to grow hot
and cold by turns ; made his laugh to tremble and his forehead
become damp with the sweat of agony, a hundred times in the
course of the few hours passed in that brilliant throng ; but
if so, the keenness of the suffering was some atonement for
As folly.
" You look very tired," said Mildred, going up to him, after
they reached home, and putting back the hair from his face.
" I, am tired," he responded, moodily. "These parties are
stupid affairs. I do not care if I never go to another."
" Don't you ? " —joyfully. " I never enjoy them ; but I
fancied that you were fond of going into society."
" I used to be — " He stopped, and added, with more con¬
sideration for her feelings than would have appeared in the
remainder of the sentence as he had first framed it : " The
21
212
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
truth is, Milly, I find myself more willing to stay at home, now
that I have a house of my own. There is no need to seek
comfort abroad."
" We have indeed a comfortable establishment," said the
matter-of-fact bride, with a satisfied survey of the well-furnished
room. " It will be such a pleasure to me to keep it in order.
There is nothing I love so much as housekeeping."
Harry was silent. His humor just then did not dispose him
to look upon excellent housewifery as the chief qualification to
be desired in his partner for life.
Mildred continued : " I went over your trunk and drawers,
to-day, while you were down town, and could not help laughing
at the queer mixture in them. I don't think your bump of
order cgn be very large."
" Maybe not," he replied, listlessly, swallowing a yawn.
" There were a dozen pairs of socks that needed mending,
and eight more odd ones tossing about. What has become of
the fellows, do you suppose ? Is your washerwoman honest ?
"I believe so. The socks are lost, I imagine. Throw the
others away. Do not trouble yourself with them."
" It is no trouble. I like to take care of your things.
Mending is fine work for the evenings ; and I have enough to
last a long while. You know I have no sewing of my own 011
hand. My wedding outfit will prevent my wanting anything
else this winter. I am sure I liad rather stay at home and
sew, than attend these tiresome parties. I must say, Harry "
— with a laugh — " that I do not feel at ease in the company
of your grand acquaintances. They are too fashionable for
me. I am so much afraid that I will say or do something
wrong."
" There is no necessity for such a dread. It only increases
your discomfort, and makes you more liable to blunders."
" I can't help it. I have never been used to gay society,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
243
and have no taste for it. There is so little sincerity among
these people ! "
"How do you know ?" was questioned shortly.
" Why, I have seen —- that is, I have always heard that men
and women of the world are not to be trusted ; and they seem
so artificial to me, are so devoted to dress and style, talk in such
a highflown strain, and are so ceremonious, that, as I said, they
make me uncomfortable."
" You are prejudiced," Harry trusted himself to say. " The
opinion is prevalent throughout the country that women who
live in cities are bound to become frivolous and heartless — the
men hard and selfish. For my part, I have never met with
warmer hearts and more disinterested kindness anywhere than
I have known and received from the very friends you stigma¬
tize as insincere — "
" There ! there ! you are getting excited ! We will let the
matter pass. I believe them to be whatever you say they are,
and am sorry I was so uncharitable. I did not mean to wound
you, Harry dear."
Mildred was undoubtedly amiable. She had little tact, a
want that bordered upon obtuseness ; but she bore the conse¬
quences of her indiscretion with unruffled good-humor. She
was patient and willing, moreover ; and Harry conceived a
bright plan ; he would mould her into some semblance of his
ideal wife, would train her tastes into congeniality with his.
Without realizing what she did, she agreed to his projected
course of study and polish. If she sighed at having to lay
aside the beloved mending and the piece-basket during such of
the long winter evenings as they passed at home, the sigh never
reached his ear ; and the smile with which she listened to his
readings and remarks thereupon, the attention she yielded as
he designated what portions of the text-book he wished her to
ptudy the following day, were to him an augury of success.
II USB AMDS AMD HOMES.
The ground received the seed. It was beyond his pon er to
cause it to spring up and bring forth. Her memory was a
faithful machine. The tasks he set were duly conned and
recited, with, perhaps, secret wonderment that she, a married
woman, should be required to " learn lessons " like any school¬
girl ; but " Harry wished it ; " and whim though she might
think it, his whims had more weight with her than the most
cogent reasonings of others. She tried hard to look delighted
when he bought a handsome piano of fine tone as a Christmas
gift for her, and informed her that he had engaged the best
music-teacher in the city to give her instruction in the long-
neglected art. She meditated the propriety of expostulation
upon these extravagant expenditures for her gratification ; but
she felt that somehow it would not be agreeable to him were
she to avow how much greater pleasure the same amount of
money would have brought her, had it been applied to the pur¬
chase of furniture or a carriage. For dress, she cared com¬
paratively little ; and here, also, she fell short of her husband's
model. He had an eye for the beautiful and becoming in female
attire ; and Mildred's carelessness on this head more than
annoyed, often provoked him, the more as he felt his inability
to instruct her as to what items of costume made up the general
effect he admired. More than once, he actually took an inven¬
tory of a particular dress of Kate Dinmore, or some other lady
of approved taste, and insisted, without saying why, that his
wife should procure such and such materials, and have them
fashioned after a certain style ; but, despite her literal obedience,
the result was so often a burlesque, sometimes so nearly gro¬
tesque, that he had no inclination to persist in the experiment.
The resolution to eschew parties was more easily formed than
oarried into execution. Invitations were constantly pouring in
upon the rising young lawyer, which it was neither polite nor
politic to decline. While the prosecution of his scheme foi
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
245
Mildred's transformation lasted, he dragged her with him
wherever he went — dragged her spirit, for the body seemed
to move readily. Thus, through the whole season, the ill-
assorted pair were ever seen in company ; and Harry's assidu¬
ity of devotion became a nine days' wonder to all who beheld
them — to those who only noted the contrast in the externals
of person and behavior, as well as to the few who looked
deeper, into the more numerous and important differences of
mind and feeling.
But this outward union was too unreal to last long. I t is
probable that both were heartily tired of the attempt to walk
in all things together, before they came to a virtual agreement
to disagree in some.
Towards spring, Mildred took a cold, which rendered it pru¬
dent for her to avoid the night air, while it did not interfere
with the routine of indoor life.
" Are you not going out this evening ? " she asked Harry,
one night, as he began to draw off his boots, and called for his
slippers.
" And leave you here sick and alone ? " said he, with a sort
of complacent indignation.
It was the true Hazael spirit— " Is thy servant a dog that
he should do this thing ? "
" I am not sick," argued Mildred ; " and you know I am
never lonely when I am busy. Look here ! " And she raised
the lid of her work-stand.
" I meant to read to you," Harry remarked. " It has been
an age since I have done so. At this rate, Macaulay will have
finished the last volume of his history (which some say he
never will do) before we get through the first."
" Oh, never mind him ! The book will keep, and this is only
one night, after all. ou like sensible parties, such as Mrs.
CoUrtenaye gives, I have heard you say. You had better go
21*
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" £iicy> will be a pleasant gathering." Harry delayed re-«
moving th^ other boot. " Mrs. Courtenaye understands whom
to invite together, and how to entertain her guests."
It was a symptom of surrender ; and Mildred followed it up
so successfully that, in half an hour more, he was arrayed in
party costume, hat in hand, ready to go.
" Are you certain that you will not be lonely ? that you are
not afraid to remain here all by yourself?" he said, lingering,
after he said " Good-by."
That solitary figure at the fireside contrasted painfully with
his remembered pictures of domestic life.
" Afraid ? of what ? If you could only be convinced how
much I prefer staying at home ! This cold is a happy excuse.
You cannot make a fine lady of me, Harry, do what you will.
Homespun will be homespun to the end of the chapter."
Harry shut the door somewhat hastily behind him ; he was
not satisfied as to the propriety or kindness of his conduct in
leaving his wife, and was willing to ascribe all his irritation to
the uncomfortable impression produced by her last words.
" Why cannot she try to conform to my ideas — to take
pleasure in such pursuits as I prefer? " he said, sharply, within
iiimself. " If she loved me with all her heart, would she not
sacrifice her inclinations sometimes to contribute to my happi¬
ness ? She must see that the non-accordance of our sentiments,
the total lack of harmony in everything, is an incessant trial to
me, greater than open outbreaks of temper, or even of jeal¬
ousy, would be."
There was an unusually large number of companionable
people assembled that evening, thanks to the indefatigable
elforis of Mrs. Courtenaye, who prided herself upon her " star
parties," as they were called, and Harry entered into the spirit
of the scene with a relish that surprised himself. He felt very
much as if he had been suddenly relieved of a troublesome,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
0
247
embarrassing clog, to which four months' wear had not accus¬
tomed h;m — so free was his speech, so buoyant his mood.
" I shall' not be absent more than an hour — or two, at
farthest," he had assured his wife. lie did not recollect this
promise until he caught sight of the lighted chamber-window,
as he neared home at two o'clock in the morning.
" This is too bad ! " he muttered, self-reproachfully. " The
poor child must have had a wretchedly uneasy time. It was
unpardonably careless, cruel in me ! What must she think ?
how must she feel ? "
Repeating " Poor girl ! " in tones more like the tender ac¬
cents of a lover than any she had heard since her marriage, he
opened the door of her room. His confident expectation was
to find her walking the floor in an agony of expectation, or,
dissolved in tears and pallid with watching, seated by the fire-
less hearth. The fire had indeed gone out, and the dead coals
were cold also ; their glow had departed so long before. The
room showed no marks of a restless vigil, of the distraction of
grief ; and his wife slumbered peacefully upon her pillow.
One would naturally have expected some expression of satis¬
faction at the removal of his apprehensions — relief, which was
perfected by a study of her quiet features, unstained by a tear,
unwrinkled by a frown ; but our unreasonable Benedict sighed,
as he turned away.
" If she cared for me, she would have sat up until my return,
or, at least, been troubled that I did not come in at the time
I set. However " — his face clearing a little — "I need fear
nothing in future from wounded feeling on her part."
This decision did Mildred injustice. She loved her husband
with all the wTarmth of her nature, but she was neither sensitive
nor imaginative. She would have been pleased to have him
spend the evening with her, if Macaulay were not to be the con¬
sequence of this piece of conjugal civility. There was just
2-18
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
¡his grain of selfishness in her desire that he should seek en¬
tertainment abroad. The fire burned brightly ; the lamp shone
clearly upon her sewing ; the room was warm ; her chair soft and
luxurious, and her work interested her far more than the bril¬
liant historian had ever done. If she missed Harry, she did not
regret his absence, satisfied that he was enjoying himself else¬
where. When the hour he had named as the ultimatum of his
stay had come and gone, she concluded, very sensibly, that he
had met with entertainment sufficiently alluring to detain him
later ; and, feeling sleepy, like a prudent woman, betook her-
seh to her bed. She spoke honestly, the next morning, when
she expressed her gratification that Harry had been tempted to
prolong his merrymaking, and described, complacently, the
" nice time " she had had at home.
Thenceforward, Harry felt no compunction in following the
lead of his own fancy. His home was a convenience undoubt¬
edly ; a suitable place in which to receive his friends ; rather
a pleasant retirement when he was wearied by the toils of
business life, or jaded after excitement. The mistress of the
establishment was an excellent manager, a pattern housekeeper,
"who always met her husband's guests with a smile, never kept
them waiting for dinner, and did not become so absorbed in
the literary, philosophical, and legal questions discussed at her
table, as to overlook the need of a single visitor in the matter
of sauces, gravies, etc. She was happy as the day was long ;
plump and rosy, by reason of her stirring habits ; and fully
persuaded of what she had indeed never dreamed of doubting
— that she had the best partner in the world, and that lie had
chosen and wedded her out of the plenitude of his loving ad«
miration for those charms and qualities which made her, of all
women, the one most thoroughly adapted to him. " Home¬
spun," as she styled herself, the incongruity of that material
and the fine velvet she would have acknowledged him to bq.
HUSDANDS AND HOMES.
249
the odd effect produced bj placing them side by side upon one
shelf, did not present itself to her straightforward intellect.
The coming of a blue-eyed daughter, the mother in minia¬
ture, arrested, for a short season, Harry's growing callousness
of heart. Ardently as he had hoped for a son instead, as he
raised the tiny creature in his arms and pressed his lips to her
soft cheek, he thrilled with new and delicious emotion. Towards
her, whose was the partnership with him in the precious gift,
he experienced a quickening of interest that lent an unwonted
cadence to his speech, a fervency to the kiss of congratulation
with which he replaced the babe by her side. This was Mil¬
dred's opportunity, if ever that oft-slighted angel offered to her
the means of winning her husband's love, and she knew it
not. Calm and undemonstrative herself, she was, probably, of
all his friends, the least acquainted with his far different tem¬
perament. He was kind and indulgent to her, and she ad¬
hered, in theory as in practice, to the motto — " Deeds, not
words." To her child, she was, in her quiet way, an example
of maternal devotion. In the absorption of her every thought
in care of and pride in it, she overlooked the Important fact
that the love of the father is never so self-forgetful as that of
the mother. Harry's home began to lose what had heretofore
been almost its only attraction — its air of neat comfort.
Mildred's supervision of every department of housekeeping
relaxed in vigilance. He was often mortified by ill-served
meals and untidy rooms when he had company ; and his tem¬
per was tried by irregularity and neglect where he had always
enjoined, and until now found, punctual regard to his wishes.
Mrs. Eldredge fell into the country habit of seeing visitors
in her chamber-nursery, and there was seldom fire In the parlor
when the master of the house came home. If he played the
dutiful and domestic by passing the evening with his " family "
— a name that had sounded most pleasant at first — his choice
2.30
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
of recreation, after his day's labors, was very limited. Mildred
no longer sewed at night, knitting requiring less light, and
consideration for " baby's " eyes rendering a dim room neces¬
sary. Harry could not read by the faint radiance to which she
tempered the lamp, and chess, a favorite game with him, was a
perplexing mystery to his wife. He might talk if " baby "
slept very soundly and he did not speak too loudly, but his be¬
loved cigar was absolutely tabooed. Mildred was not a shrew
or tyrant, only the instinct of maternity was more powerful
than the graft of wifely regard. Unselfishly as ever, she ex¬
cused her husband's absences from home, the more cheerfully
now that " baby was so much company." Harry's social nature
pleaded persuasively for indulgence, and his sense of duty had
been so frequently overcome that its voice was weakened.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
251
CHAPTER III.
"Without further detail of the process which led to such a
result, pass we to the period when Harry Eldredge was known
in society as a " gay married man," a reputation than which
every loving wife who knows the world would rather have her
husband bear the title of a Diogenes. Still, he maintained his
place in public favor. The many who flattered and caressed
him, if they ever gave a thought to lier whom the law called
his companion, were but the more profuse in their attentions,
as a compensation for what he must undergo in an alliance so
unfortunate. The minority who really knew and loved him,
while they could not conceal from themselves that his course
was reprehensible, yet felt little sympathy for the wife who
was unconscious that she stood in need of their commiseration.
One friend had marked the career of the mismated man,
from the first step to the present time.
" This will never do, Kate ! it has gone far enough — I am
afraid too far ! " ejaculated Mr. Coleman, one night, as, seated
beside his niece, in a crowded concert-room, he beheld Harry
make his way through the throng, with a young and beautiful
girl on his arm.
Kate, now Mrs. Strother, the wife of a man who deserved
and valued the prize he had won, was chatting gayly with her
husband, and had not remarked the entrance of the pair who
had called forth her uncle's expression of disapproval. " What
tvis gone too far ? " she inquired, startled.
252
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" I'll wager my head," continued the old gentleman, striking
his cane upon the floor, " that the poor, unsophisticated child
Harry Eldredge has been dancing attendance upon, this month
past, has not a suspicion that he is a married man."
" Uncle ! "
lier shocked face was more eloquent than her accent of
horrified surprise.
" I believe what I have said, Kate ; this is not the first time
I have watched them. She is an innocent, simple little thing,
susceptible as pretty, and a visitor to that giddy Mrs. Mor-
land."
" Hush ! hush ! " whispered Kate, glancing around appre¬
hensively. " Do not call names here ! "
"As you please," assented her uncle, Towering his voice.
" All I have to say is that it is a shame. I thought the boy
had more principle. It is bad enough to slight his wife, with¬
out playing the flirt with such a novice as this young girl.
She is too sweët a creature to risk the wreck of affections in
this style. I wish she were back among her friends. I sup¬
pose she has some protector somewhere."
" Change the subject," said Mr. Strother, aside to Kate.
By the exercise of much tact, she effected this object. The
old man was growing garrulous, and was more excitable than
of yore. Mr. Strother did not communicate that night, even
to his wife, a circumstance that had aroused Ms uneasiness, yet
had escaped the eyes of his companions.
Directly in front of Mr. Coleman sat a young man who
seemed to be connected with no party or person in his vicinity.
From the instant Harry Eldredge's name was mentioned, he
had listened keenly to every word uttered by the censor, lis¬
tened with stilled breath and a changing cheek. He offered
to rise, as if to confront Mr. Coleman when the subject, was
dropped ; but some reverse of intention, or the recollect^ of
the publicity of the place, caused him to retain hi¿» seat.
HU SB Al ÍDS ANO HOMES.
o rrf>
U *J
Harry enjoyed :he concert exceedingly. In addition to the
gratification of his musical taste, he had the pleasant conscious¬
ness of having conferred delight upon another. Esther Mo. -
rison was the relative and guest of Mrs. Morland, a lively,
fashionable widow, good-natured, and thoughtless to a fault-
She gave biilliant parties, and was the leader in every attrac¬
tive scheme of amusement. Her house was the favorite resort
of the gay youth of her acquaintance, and was frequented by
many whose intellectual stamp was of a higher order than that
of the fluttering moths that constantly followed her. Esther's
simplicity of manner, and the pure, fresh style of her beauty,
had captivated Harry's eye. His admiration, he knew, would
insure the homage of others who might otherwise overlook the
modest stranger. Mrs. Morland had confided to him her res¬
olution that her " sweet snowdrop of a cousin " should be the
fashion in her set that season, and invoked his assistance in the
accomplishment of this plan. Misled by the prevalent idea
that, because the attentions of a married man can excite no
" expectations " he can offer them with impunity, he had con¬
stituted himself her especial escort, and commenced, as zeal¬
ously as the dashing widow could have wished, the task of
" bringing out " and crowning her with belleship.
On their return from the concert in question, while Mrs.
Morland's cavalier took* leave at the door of her mansion,
Harry followed the ladies into the parlor with the easy confi¬
dence of a privileged friend. Refreshments were brought in,
and, sitting side by side with Esther upon the sofa, he was
discussing an ice and the prima donna of the evening, when a
ling at the front door, sharply repeated, drew from Mrs. Mor¬
land an impatient exclamation at the footman's tardiness.
" And the bell-wire in this room is out of order," she said,
rising and walking into the back parlor from whence she could
summon the delinquent. He had answered the door by the
22
254
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
time she rang ; and, hearing him pass through the hall on his
way back to the kitchen, she stepped out to admonish him
against a repetition of .the negligence. By such slight straws
of circumstance is the whole tenor of life and feeling often
changed. She was petrified with amazement at the scene which
was presented to her view upon her return to the drawing-room.
Esther, pale and alarmed, clung beseechingly to the arm of the
new-comer, a young man of two or three-and-twenty, whose
voice was thick with fury as he addressed Eldredge.
" Sou pretend ignorance, sir; are 'unconscious of any injury
intended or offered to me or mine.' I will enlighten you, and
that speedily, but not here. This is no place for such conver¬
sation."
He tried, but vainly, to disengage himself from the frightened
girl.
Mrs. Morland, astonished though she was, retained more
self-possession than her timid cousin. " Ronald," she said, lay¬
ing her hand upon his other arm, " what does all this mean ?
This gentleman is my friend, and an acquaintance of your sis¬
ter's. You told her this morning that you had never seen him.
What is the cause of this unbecoming behavior and language
to him, and in our presence ? "
She spoke firmly, with more dignity than she was wont to
__ *
assume. The fiery boy lowered his tone, although in no wise
appeased by her interference.
" I am aware, Mrs. Morland, that my manners do not be¬
come your presence or house — that, in your refined clique, it
will be considered a capital joke that the unsophisticated coun¬
tryman should have endeavored to save his sister from a life¬
time of misery."
" You are surely mad ! Who talks of misery ? Nobody
ever thought of such a thing except yourself," returned the
really bewildered lady.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
255
" Probably. The word lias been excluded from your vocab¬
ulary, is never spoken in ears polite." And, with the sama
fierce sarcasm, he proceeded : " I came here to-night intending
to seek information, to confer privately with you with regard
to certain matters I heard discussed not two hours since in a
public assembly. I was told that I should find you here ; but,
instead, I interrupted an interview, a confidential tete-a-tete —■
mark you, madam ! sanctioned by your ladyship ! — between
my sister and a notorious married fiirt ! "
Esther fell away from his arm, and, staggering several paces
to a seat, gazed, white and speechless, at Harry. The look
almost unmanned him. He was as pale as herself, as he replied
to the unexpected attack.
" I repel your charge, sir. My position and character are
well known in this community. You have been grossly mis¬
informed if you have been led to believe that my attentions to
your sister have been other than might have been offered by
an elder brother or uncle. A flirt I am not, nor ever shall be.
That I am married is a 4 notorious ' fact, if you like the word.
It is no news to any one here besides yourself. Mrs. Morland
knew it. Miss Morrison could not — if I had desired to trifle
with her — have been kept in ignorance of it"—turning
towards her.
Her head drooped upon her hands. She seemed not to have
heard the appeal.
" Of course, she could not ! " Mrs. Morland said, quickly.
" The very idea is absurd. It is all a mistake, you see, Ronald.
Unless I am greatly in error, Esther has met with Mrs. El-
dredge since she has been with me. At any rate, she has
heard a hundred times that Mr. Eldredge had a wife."
" Never once ! as Heaven is my witness, not once ! " uttered
Esther, in a tone so hollow and broken that all started. With¬
out another word, she arose, her face of unspeakable misery,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
ghastly by contrast with her gay attire, and passed from the
apartment.
Mrs. Moríand accompanied her to the door, but paused there,
and returned to the two who stood glaring upon each other.
" I am shocked ! distressed beyond expression ! " she said ;
and there were tears in her eyes. " I cannot believe — it- is
incredible that I could have been so careless, or that Esther
should not have heard abroad what were Mr. Eldredge's rela¬
tions ; but indeed, Ronald, it was all my fault, my inexcusable
thoughtlessness. Mr. Eldredge is perfectly innocent. His
wife is very domestic in her tastes, and -— and — never goes
out. He is fond of company, and is an intimate acquaintance
of mine. As such, he has waited upon Esther as her own
father might have done. I solemnly declare this to be the
truth."
Stern and gloomy, Ronald stalked up and down the room,
so far from being pacified that the kind-hearted hostess essayed
a second emollient : " I do not know who has so vilely misrep¬
resented their intercourse to you. I could not have credited
the existence of such base spite in the world. Not a whisper
of scandal has ever been breathed about them before, for in
society these things are so well understood."
" Enough ! " broke forth Ronald, abruptly. u Between you
two, you have destroyed the happiness of a foolish, trusting
child. It matters little where the blame lies ; you may divide
it, and each of you have more upon your conscience than I should
like to bear upon mine. My visit to the city ends to-morrow,
madam. Will you notify my sister that she is to accompany
me ? The sooner she quits ( society ' forever, the better. I
have no inclination to hazard a second peep at its iniquitous
mysteries myself. As to you, sir," to Harry, " without pre¬
tending to decide the difficult question whether you are or are
not a cold-blooded villain, as well as a faithless husband, allow
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
257
me to inform you that, if you ever attempt to speak to my sister
again, I will blow your brains out. Nothing but the reflection
that she would be compromised in the eyes of the public by
such an act prevents me from doing it now."
" I am ready for you, sir, at any moment," began Harry,
haughtily; but Mrs. Morland, with a scream, threw herself
against him, and fairly pushed and pulled him into the hall ;
then, by mingling persuasions with tears, prevailed upon him
to leave the house without further hostile demonstrations. As
she had anticipated, he waited some time outside the door,
watching for the egress of his antagonist, and she took care to
O O o 7
defeat his design. Ronald, in spite of his wrath, was detained
by divers manoeuvres, until Harry's patience and heat both
declined.
Full of bitter thoughts, he mounted the stairs to his wife's
chamber. She was usually asleep at this hour, but to-night
the little Milly was not well, and the mother sat by the fire
with her in her arms, singing, in soothing tones, an old lullaby.
She turned her round, good-humored face towards the entrance.
"Ah, Harry, you are early! Was not the concert a good
one, or was your pretty new belle less interesting than she gen¬
erally is ? By the way, I saw her in a store to-day, and had a
fair look at hc*\ I don't wonder at your taste. Mr. Marvin
says you have the reputation of bringing out the prettiest girls
of every season. He asked me if I wasn't jealous, as if I had
not perfect confidence in you ! I laughed in his face, as I did
in that tattling old Miss Vaughan's, when she told me that you
went, everywhere, by the name of the married flirt."
She laughed now, as she repeated the absurdity she imagined
would awaken his merriment also, and, meeting no response
from him, settled it in her own mind that he was " tired and a
little bit cross," and recommenced lier song to the child.
A single glance of grieved tenderness — the moistening of
22*
258
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
an eje — tlie trembling of a note in her careless speech would
have drawn the miserable man to her feet, for his heart was
breaking to pour itself out into a sympathizing ear. He would
thankfully have laid his head upon her breast — unloved wife
as she was — and sobbed, in childlike abandonment, a confes¬
sion of his yearning affections, his incomplete existence.
And, in unintentional mockery, rang out Mildred's voice : —
" And this the burden of his song,
Which evermore would be,
I care for nobody — no ! not II
Since nobody cares for me."
Harry Eldredge has greatly depreciated in the estimation of
his merry comrades of former days ; has hardened and settled
into the merest business machine. He is making his way rap¬
idly to the top of the political ladder, for, say his opponents,
feeling never stands in his way ; heart and nerve are alike iron.
Home he has none ; for, except after dark and on Sundays, he
is rarely seen in the house where his wife and children live.
She, insensitive, and, consequently, contented as ever, Dutch in
figure, and ruddy in countenance, fondles and corrects, as occa¬
sion demands, the thrifty olive-branches that are shooting up
about her, and inculcates, as cardinal duties, the propriety of
clean faces and whole aprons when papa comes home, together
with a scrupulous avoidance of the neighborhood of the library,
where he writes and studies far into every night. She is still,
to herself, the model wife and mother ; for, does she not live
with, labor for, and trust in him with fidelity, diligence, and
implicitness ? He is morose — " it is because business troubles
him," she says — sad, and " he has a fit of the blues, which will
go off of itself, if he is not noticed."
What knows she of the pale spectre that, at these hours —
ay, and often at other times — in the whirl of business, the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
259
clamor of political strife, the still darkness of wakeful mid¬
nights, glides before him, with eyes full of sorrofwul reproach ?
of hollow accents, that repeat, like the knell of happy dreams
and love's hopes, " ISiever once ! as Heaven is my witness, not
once ! "
By what faculty of her nature, what instinct, is she to learn
the secret cf the depths, dusty, and dark, and drear, of his empty
heart?
TWO WAYS OF KEEPING A WIFE.
CHAPTER I.
It was an event of no ordinary importance which drew
together so large and gay an assemblage at the hospitable
mansion of Mr. Pierson, on a moonlight evening of early May.
Two sisters, who had hardly been separated for a day from the
birth of the younger until now, were united in wedlock to
young men, intimate friends and partners in business. It is
seldom that unions so agreeable to the parties most nearly con¬
cerned meet with such unequivocal approbation from relatives
and the public at large, as did this double marriage. Both
brides were pretty, one beautiful ; both sensible, amiable, and
refined. The grooms formed an undeniably eligible firm in
appearance, intelligence, moral worth and enterprise.
" And they have paired with singular judgment," commented
a beau to a lady acquaintance. " Wonder if it was by mutual
and unselfish agreement that the better looking man took the
plainer girl ? A novel method of striking a balance, was it
not ? "
" I am rather disposed to consider it as another illustration
of the all-prevailing law of compensations," rejoined his fair
companion. " In point of loveliness, or lovableness, if you
will allow the polysyllable, however, the sisters are more alike.
If either is my favorite, I must concede the palm to Fanny,
whom you call4 plain.' She has more character than Iiose,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
wlio unconsciously relies somewhat upon her face to win love,
and open her a path through the world."
" She may well trust to it," would have been the comment
of the happy and fortunate husband, if he had overheard the
criticism. Yet John Gray was not liable to be governed by
the desire of the eye. In his selection of Rose Pierson as a
helpmate in the life which was so practical and earnest a
matter with him, her beauty was the least weighty of the con¬
siderations that swayed him. To-night, in the fulness of his
wedded bliss, while he recognized, with the rest of her specta¬
tors, the enhancement of every charm by excitement and hap¬
piness, he exulted less in the possession of the greatest of these,
than did Raymond Parkhurst in the contemplation of the —
to others — less attractive sister. But, to the lookers-on, if the
handsome features expressed more pleasure than did the nat¬
urally graver countenance of his partner, it was because they
were handsome and eloquent in their obedience to the mandate
of feeling.
" John Gray was a steady, safe, good fellow," said men of
the world. " The concern was a flourishing one, and without
pretending to a knowdedge of what went on behind the scenes,"
they surmised shrewdly, that " he was the balance-wheel, the
hold-back horse to Parkhurst's enthusiasm, which some " —
not themselves, of course, but the ubiquitous, infallibly-judging
" Some " — " might term ' flightiness.' "
O O
With the other sex, Parkhurst was decidedly popular.
More than one rosy cheek paled for an instant as his fervent
response to the nuptial vow broke the stillness of the crowded
room ; many a soft heart heaved with an involuntary sigh at
the sight of his devotion to his bride, and her modest, yet
palpable appreciation of the prize she had drawn in the greatest
and most uncertain of lotteries. Not that Raymond had ever
indulged in the very fashionable and very masculine recrea-
262
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
tion — with too many, a studied profession — of flirting. His
attentions had been as open as they were general and sincere,
*
until he fell in love with Fanny Pierson's frank, smiling face
and fascinating manners. If any maiden chose to wear the
willow for him, her assumption of the woful wreath was gra¬
tuitous, and by him unsuspected. He " liked the ladies," he
would have affirmed, with a hearty " Heaven bless them ! "
Pie felt a spontaneous affection and reverence for everything
in the shape of womanhood, for had not he " a darling mother,
the jewel of all women, and four of the best sisters ill the uni¬
verse," still living in and about the old homestead, a'hundred
miles or so back in the country ? And, as his eyes dwell lov¬
ingly upon the bright young creature at his side, pass from her
face to the simple, broad band of gold upon her finger, with a
smile of triumphant security, experienced, for the first time in
all its rapturous sweetness, by the newly-made husband, when
God and man have set a public seal upon the heart-contract —•
one sees clearly what is his mental supplement to the eulogium
upon the sex at large, and the feminine portion of his family
in particular.
John Gray had been reared very differently. He, too, had
a mother, a strong-minded, strong-doing woman, who had thrust
out, in succession, five sons from the parent-nest so soon as
their callow bodies were, figuratively, covered with feathers
enough to keep them from freezing outright. Once beyond
the shelter of their birthplace, the principle of action, if not of
speech, was, "Fly or break your neck!" Four did fly —
after a while — vigorously and successfully ; a fifth, the young¬
est, who most narrowly missed being the home-pet, if one could
imagine such an anomaly in the mother's stern, hard existence,
kept back from the venture though he was, longer than any
of his predecessors, fluttered aimlessly from bough to bough,
heedless of maternal admonition and paternal remonstrance,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
263
and then fell, few knew or eared into what jaws of temptation
or pit of crime. John was the third son, and none other had
thriven better since his compulsory achievement of an inde¬
pendent career. His early lot had not soured him. His
temper, if firm, was even and pleasant ; his principles, if rigid,
strictly honorable, or, to use a word we value more highly in
these so-called " honorable " times — honest. If less admired
than his associate in business, he was universally respected,
and beloved by one, at least, with a depth and strength that
would have compensated to a more craving heart, for the dearth
of motherly and sisterly tenderness.
The bridal tours of the two couples were to the respective
homes of the bridegrooms. Rose was welcomed with solid
satisfaction, and made much of, after the fashion of her ambi¬
tious mother-in-law, as the daughter of a wealthy and prominent
citizen of a growing city, and the probable stepping-stone to
"my son's" increased honor and affluence ; while Fanny was
" Ray's wife " to the five doating, " dearest women in the uni¬
verse ; " petted, caressed, almost worshipped, at first, in virtue
of this relationship ; subsequently, for her own sake. Mr.
Pierson's primary action with regard to his sons-in-law would
not have disappointed Mrs. Gray, Senior, had he not contented
himself, for the present, with bestowing upon the sisters neatly-
furnished houses, built and finished in modern style, situated
in a block of buildings owned by himself.
" The house is all very well," pronounced the sagacious
dame, when she spent a day in the city, to see far herself how
her son was likely to fare after his recent " investment." " In¬
deed, it is too handsome for a man of your means, John.
Young people should not strive to begin where their parents
left off. In making you this gift, Mr. Pierson binds upon you
the obligation to live in a certain style, which does not seem to
me to befit a man who has his fortune to make It would
264
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
have been more wise and kind in him to give you the worth
of the property in money. You could have invested it in your
business, or in some other way. Money grows by handling.
It is like a snowball, swells by being often turned over. Real
estate is an incumbrance, unless one rents it out, or can afford
to have his funds bound up in it until the property greatly
increases in value. You cannot sell this at any rate, during
Mr. Pierson's lifetime. It is a pity that you must be hampered
by family feeling and policy."
" But, mother," said John, respectfully, " we must live some¬
where, and where so comfortably and cheaply as in our own
house ? The saving of a year's rent will almost cover our
other expenses."
" Where ! why, in a boarding-house, in a decent, not over-
stylish establishment, such as millionaires have not disdained
to occupy after their incomes doubled, trebled, yes, quadrupled
the amount of their original capital."
John was silent. Ashamed as he was of the ungrateful slurs
cast upon the generosity of his wife's father, he could not but
acknowledge to himself that there was a deal of practical wisdom
in his mother's comments.
" What is done cannot be helped, I suppose," resumed Mrs.
Gray, lowering lier voice as Rose was heard approaching.
"All that you can do towards retrieving this injudicious step
is to study good management and practise economy."
At Fanny's urgent solicitation, Mabel, Raymond's only
unmarried sister passed ten days with them immediately after
their induction into their new abode. She carried back such
a description of this sojourn in that terrestrial paradise, "Ray's
and Fanny's house," that the mother, who, in country parlance,
" had not been out of the smoke of her chimneys " for thirty
years, was beguiled, in a moment of excitement, with a half-
promise " to look in upon the boy some time next winter, if
Providence spared her life and health so long."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES-
265
Mr. Pierson, with the counsel and assistance of his wire,
had succeeded in rendering the sisters' dwellings almost exact
counterparts each of the other. If there was any difference,
it consisted in sundry luxurious devices, planned and executed
by Mrs. Pierson for promoting the comfort of her elder, and it
was sometimes whispered, her best-loved child. Fanny was
too noble of spirit, and herself loved her beautiful sister too
well to be jealous, had such favoritism existed, and she knew
that there was no ground for imputation save in the imagina¬
tions of those who promulgated the story. Rose was, in dis¬
position, dependent, and as a child, liad been delicate in health.
It became the habit of the household to indulge lier, and her
second nature to expect and need indulgence.
" She is a sensitive plant, John. Deal very gently with
her," was the mother's charge in relinquishing her into her
husband's keeping, and his response was sincere in its emphasis :
" My own life shall not be guarded so carefully as her ease and
happiness."
" I am behaving very generously towards you," Mr. Pierson
said to Raymond, as they grasped hands at parting, the morn¬
ing after the marriage. " I am robbing my home of its brightest
sunshine in resigning my Fanny to you."
Time sped on with its burden of changes, responsibilities,
and joys, and brought the second anniversary of the double
wedding — a fortnight later, the birthday of the sisters, which,
by a rather singular coincidence, occurred upon the same day
of the month, Rose being exactly two years Fanny's senior.
This year it chanced to fall upon Monday, at once the dread
and comfort of notable housewives, the universal washing-time,
which a wicked wit asserts to have been instituted in commem¬
oration of Job's natal-day — the one he cursed.
The afternoon was warm ; within doors, oppressive. Rose
Gray sat in her nursery. Her sewing lay in the basket by
23
266
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
her side, thimble and scissors thrown upon it, dropped hastily,
to be resumed at the earliest possible moment. Her present
occupation was the attempt to soothe and amuse a fretful, puny
girl upon her lap. Maternal duties and anxieties had stolen
elasticity from the frame, and color from the cheek of the
young wife. It was easy to perceive that she had grown com¬
paratively indifferent to her dress and appearance. Although
several hours had elapsed since dinner, she still wore a morning-
wrapper, clean and whole indeed, but old-fashioned in pattern
and faded by use. It had formed a part of her trousseau, and
her wardrobe contained few garments of a later date.
" I should not know what to do with it," she would reply to
her sister's recommendations to purchase this or that article
of apparel. " I had such a number of dresses when I was
married, that I have not begun to wear them out. Then, too,
I stay at home so closely, that it would be sheer extravagance
to add to my stock of clothing."
The room was in perfect order. The furniture, Mr. Pierson's
gift, was, with the exception of the cradle, in every respect the
same as upon the day the owners had taken possession, and its
good preservation argued housewifery the most careful and
painstaking, the thought of which would have caused any re¬
flecting mother a throb of pity, as she looked at the babe, just
arrived at the most troublesome and mischievous age. But
the little creature seemed to have no heart for play, no pro¬
pensity to litter the carpet, or toss around all the movables k
could lay its restless hands upon. The heat from its swollen
gums had diffused itself throughout the body, and was aggra
va ted by the sultry day.
" There, there, my darling ! " murmured Rose, as the peevisk
wail recommenced, and the child's limbs writhed in passion ct
suffering. "Is mamma's Hetty thirsty ? does she want «orne
bread ? Oh, see the beautiful dolly grandpa gave her !
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Hetty rejected drink, food, and toy, and the plaintive, yet
annoying cry continued to torment the parent's nerves.
" O me ! " sighed she, rising with the infant in her arms,
and pacing the floor. It was not the noVelty of the ordeal,
but its repetition, that forced the tears now coursing down her
face. She did not know that they were there, only that there
was some relief of the suffocation in her throat, the dull aching
in her back. They were such unreasonable drops as arouse
quick-tempered men to anger, and good-natured ones to con¬
tempt, which all concur in pronouncing " womanish " and
" babyish " — descriptive epithets, that none of the initiated of
our sisterhood should care to dispute. Let us rather be thank¬
ful for their flow, when sleepless nights, and days of fatigue,
and solitude, not the less wearing because it is voted "unneces¬
sary," " altogether uncalled-for," " what all mothers have to
undergo and should therefore expect," have racked and strained
muscle and nerve ; turned our daily bread into ashes, blunted
our perceptions to all that was once beautiful to the sight,
pleasant to the ear, stimulative to the intellect.
One single complaint had Rose once uttered in the hearing
of her healthy, hearty-eating, soundly-sleeping lord :
" I had no idea that babies were such a trouble ! " she was
unnatural enough to say, at the close of a toilsome day, follow¬
ing upon a vigil as trying.
John let his paper fall in an excess of surprise and indigna¬
tion. " Rose ! I never expected to hear such language from
you ! Wc idd you be happier if your child were taken from
your One might suppose, from your manner and words, that
you wished her dead ! "
" Dead ! Oh, he little guessed what a leaden weight crashed
through the mother's brain, and tore its way to the bottom of
her heart, when the full meaning, the direful import of thai
Word rested there. How could he suspect, when he chided
268
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
her, in the morning, for having taken the babe to her couch,
there to sap the foundations of strength and vitality, by its
remorseless demands, that she had sprung, at midnight, from
the pillow, wet with the hot tears of self-reproach, and wild,
terrible forebodings of the awful thing he had named, and crept
to the side of the crib where reposed her darling in the dream¬
less, un stirring sleep of infancy, so like its twin brother, Death !
how eagerly she had snatched her idol to her bosom at the
thought. Yes, hailed its awakening scream with an inarticu¬
late, but how devout a thanksgiving that it was still alive and
hers !
A lumpish Irish girl, red-armed, and slatternly from the
wash tub, checked the doleful promenade through the apart¬
ment. Between a moist finger and thumb she held a card.
" Lady and gintleman in the parlor for ye, Mrs. Gray ! "
" Mr. and Mrs. Wyndham ! " read Rose, in dismay. " What
shall I do ?" "
They were influential friends of Mr. Gray's, fashionable,
punctilious people, whose acquaintance lie particularly wished
her to cultivate.
" Catherine ! don't you think Hetty will stay with you a
little while ? Will not you try to keep her quiet while I am
in the parlor ? just a few minutes, Catherine ?"
The girl, thus implored, extended her arms, but Hetty re¬
belled at the sulky invitation, and clung screamingly to her
mother's neck.
" What shall I do ? " reiterated the nearly distracted Rose.
" Hetty ! be still ! you must go ! Take her, Catherine ! "
Literally torn from her hold, the child was borne off, filling
the house with her shrieks. To this music, which no walls or
doors could deaden, Mrs. Gray was obliged to listen while,
panting from recent exertion and lier hasty toilet, she tried to
entertain her visitors. Relieved at length by their politely
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
269
considerate departure, she flew to the kitchen to quell the
tumult. Catherine was deep in her tub, and Hetty, sitting
upon the floor, in alarming and most uncomfortable proximity
to the red-hot stove, inhaling, at each vociferous inspiration,
the vapor, redolent of turpentine soap, and the more nauseous
effluvia of suds, in which the soiled clothes had undergone a
nominal purification — the not-analyzable, but unmistakable
incense that ascends weekly from thousands of kitchens in our
land, to the patron saint — if there be a saint with such vil-
lanous taste in perfumes —of washing-day.
" When will I be setting the tay-table ? " queried Catherinev
as her mistress reshouldered her heavy load.
" It is almost time ! " answered Hose, with a despairing look
at the clock. " Don't leave your work, Catherine. I will do
it for you."
The nymph of the suds evinced neither surprise nor grati¬
tude at this reply. Why should she, when her question had
been designed as a hint to her fellow-laborer that this portion
of her regular Monday's duties was not to be evaded for such
slight reasons as a crying baby, headache, lassitude, and painful
bones ? A woman can accomplish wonders, in an emergency,
with one hand ; and Rose, tolerably well-trained, of late, to
these feats, put on the kettle, and proceeded to spread the cloth
in the dining-room ; to set cups, saucers, plates, and glasses ;
to arrange spoons, knives and forks, with Hetty, diverted by
the clattering china and bright silver, therefore quiet for the
nonce, upon her arm. But bread, butter, cake, and John's
indispensable chipped beef were still to be prepared, and Miss
Hetty's lively sense of her grievous personal wrongs was
rekindled in all its bitterness when she found herself tied in a
high chair, and left to seek amusement by inspecting her own
image in the bowl of a spoon. The bread was cut unevenly
and too thick — a point concerning which, John, although nol
23#
270
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
a confessed epicure, was very particular ; and the cake was
forgotten, along with the glass dish of preserves or stewed fruit
that usually mounted guard before his plate.
Unconscious of her shortcomings, Rose ascended the stairs to
the nursery ; cast, for the hundredth time that day, a wistful,
hopeless glance at the work-basket and its pile of collars, a new
set, for which John was " actually suffering," and addressed
herself anew to the refreshing, delightful recreation of tending
the baby.
" Mere sport — entrancing occupation — a never-ending,
ever-new joy," say out-of-the-house-all-day husbands, sentimen¬
tal misses, and poetic amateur nursery-loungers, and the pub¬
lic is bound to take their descriptions for unembellished truth,
for has it not been with them " a favorite study ? " Rose Gray
was neither sentimental nor poetic. She loved her baby better
than she did the right hand that held her up to her sore and
bowed shoulder ; better than the head bent, in very exhaustion,
upon the flaxen poll of the little one ; better than the blood that
filled her veins ; yet if the hand had felt less like parting com¬
pany with its faithful wrist, the shoulders been erect and free,
instead of cramping lungs and heart ; had the head throbbed
less violently, and the blood streamed in a cooler, slower tide,
she would have been in a fitter condition A> appreciate the
gushing melody of the " well-spring of pleasure," which the
above-quoted Tupperian philosophers are fond of describing.
Fanny Parkhurst's spacious dressing-room had been con¬
verted into a nursery at nearly the same date with the advent
of Iletty Gray. Master Charles Pierson Parkhurst was 'he
occasion of this innovation in household arrangements — an
important personage in his small sphere, a distinction he rec¬
ognized by the daily, hourly development of some eminently
boyish trait. His lungs were powerful ; his limbs active and
lusty ; his temper quick, yet in the main sunny, and, under the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
271
tutelage of his proud father, he was fast becoming the noisiest,
most reckless romp that ever smashed crockery, or tumbled
fifty times per diem from every imaginable and unimaginable
climbing-place.
On the spring afternoon that so tried the patience of his
cousin and his aunt, the chubby rogue was extended on the
carpet of his state drawing-room, changed from its original use,
as before related, to accommodate his highness, kicking his fat
heels into the air with a sort of lordly independence that ac¬
corded well with his pouting mouth and laughing eyes. Near
by was his mother — her book closed upon her finger, her lips
parted in a smile at the antics of her first-born. Her face was
slightly flushed with the warmth of the day. A glass of iced
water, and a palm-leaf fan 011 the stand at her elbow, showed
that she was not insensible to the effects of the change of sea¬
son, but the glow made her complexion seem fresher and clearer
than was its wont, and her animated expression, even girlish
in its glee, combined with this to give her a more youthful
appearance than had been Fanny Pierson's on her bridal eve.
Her robe was a thin barege, its colors well-contrasted and del
icate, its flounces falling in silky folds from the slender, rotund
waist to the floor. For a headdress, she wore a spray of
myrtle intertwined with pink and white verbenas. The breath
of other and sweeter flowers — mignonette, roses, and lilacs —
stole balmily upon the senses from a bouquet that graced the
mantel. Their vernal beauties would not have been safe at a
shorter distance from the grasping fingers of the embryo Alex¬
ander, rolling about on the rug like a seal in the sunshine.
They were not hot-house exotics, but blossoms of domestic
growth, common home-plants. Raymond had bought them at
market (hat morning ; cheated the dullard of a saleswoman by
paying a "levy" for a room-full of perfume, such as Nour-
mahal might have coveted in the midst of her orange-blooms
272
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
and tuberoses. The honest fellow felt a twinge of conscience
at the recollection of the swindle, unthinkingly perpetrated, as
Fanny caught the bouquet from his hand on his return home to
breakfast, and buried her nose so deeply in its recesses, that
only her delighted eyebrows were visible above it ; then
thanked the " darlingest, most thoughtful of husbands," with a
kiss, in which was blent all the fragrance of the flowers.
The tableau of mother and boy was thrown into disorder by
the sound of a bounding step and cheery whistle upon the
staircase. Instantly, Master Charley whirled over to his hands
and feet, and crept rapidly towards the door. He did not
reach it until his mother had received the salutatory kiss, and
his father was quite ready for him.
" Hallo, my man ! " exclaimed Raymond, catching up the
sturdy urchin, and tossing him up and down, as far as his stal¬
wart arms could carry him. " Want to fly, hey? So he shall,
as long as papa can furnish him with wings. Hear him chuckle,
Fan. What a boy it is ! "
"I wish he would walk, instead of creeping," said Fanny.
" He soils and wears out so many frocks. Who would think
that he was dressed clean directly after dinner ? "
" Papa and Charley don't care ! " retorted Raymond, tick¬
ling the plump neck with kisses, until the babe fairly shouted
in his merriment. "We admire dirty frocks and torn aprons ;
don't we, my boy ? 'Tisn't everybody's child that can creep,
but we are a locomotive, with full steam on. See ! " — taking
a ball from his pocket, and trundling it along the floor—-
" Charley, catch ! Now go it ! How the fellow travels ! "
"I play brakeman to this train !" laughed Fanny, capturing
boy and ball together. " Really, Ray, dear, I had as lief not
have the trouble of washing and dressing him again this after¬
noon. This sultry weather makes me lazy."
" Are you not well ? " inquired the husband anxiously.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
273
" Perfectly ; only a little languir! in consequence of the
nnusual heat, and the sudden change in the atmosphere. I am
always more tired 011 Monday afternoon than on any other
day — "
" Because you will undertake the sole care of the child ! "
returned Raymond. " I wish you would listen to my persua¬
sions and hire an extra washerwoman, if your cook cannot get
up the clothes in proper season. It worries me to see you do
a servant's work ! "
"Tell papa he knows nothing about the fine times we have
here — all by ourselves ! " said Fanny, presenting the baby's
mouth for a kiss. " Bessie only helps Bridget in the kitchen
until the clothes are washed and hung out. If papa and
Charley like to máke frocks and aprons dirty, they must not
blame mamma and Bessie for liking to see them clean again."
She lifted Charley to one of her father's knees, and estab¬
lished herself upon the other. Raymond trotted them alter¬
nately.
" It is hard to tell which is the heavier," he said jocosely ;
then, gravely : " You are not looking very robust now-a-days,
pet."
" Ah ! It is only a fancy of yours, I think. I suffer no
pain. I eat and sleep well, and am conscious of no indispo¬
sition."
Raymond did not reply. He appeared to be listening to the
passing of vehicles in the street. Gently setting aside his
double burden, he walked to the window.
" Come here, Fanny ! "
A light buggy, drawn by a glossy horse, was at the door.
The whole equipage was so neat and stylish that Fanny ex¬
claimed with admiration ——
" A pretty turnout ! What a beauty that horse is ! To whom
does it belong ? "
274
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" To you ! "
" You are going to treat me to a ride, then? You are too
good ! and I have been wishing all day for a breath of fresh
air ! But where did you hire such an elegant establishment ?
Il lias not the livery-stable look."
"I bought the horse several weeks since, that I might assure
myself that he was a safe animal before I put my treasures at
his mercy ; the buggy I had built, stipulating that it should be
completed by to-day. Will my wife accept it as a token that
her husband loves her better, is more desirous to minister to
her comfort and happiness, than he was two years ago ? It is
but a poor proof, after all, of how much dearer the wife is than
was the bride."
Forgetful of passers-by and opposite neighbors, Fanny threw
her arms about his neck, and fairly sobbed upon his bosom,
" It is too much, too much ! " she cried. " You make a spoiled
baby of me, Raymond ! " laughing hysterically, and wiping
away the tears that others fell fast to replace.
"Fie ! my darling," said Raymond,pretending to scold, while
his eyes were full also. " You are ruining your eyes and mak¬
ing your nose red, when you ought to be looking your prettiest,
for you are to ride in your own carriage now, directly. Hear
Charley blubber "mamma ! ' Do quiet his distressed heart !
He thinks I have been maltreating you."
"May I take him with us? " asked Fanny.
" Certainly ; he can sit between us. You shall not hold him
on your knee again, as you did the other day ; he is growing
too heavy. I am convinced that a ride in that position does
you more harm than good."
" You rate my powers of endurance at a very low figure,"
said Fanny, busying herself with getting out the hats and wrap¬
pings necessary for their jaunt.
" Not at all ; I wish to preserve them unimpaired, Give
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
275
me Charley's cap and cloak ; I will play dressing-maid tu
him."
The new buggy swung easily upon its springs ; the cushions
of the seat and back were "just right," Fanny declared;
Charley was miraculously quiet in the mighty interest awak¬
ened by the various objects they passed ; the sleek bay was
gentle as fleet, and his owners compared notes, with the grati¬
fying conclusion that no excursion of their courtship was ever
more pleasant than this ride into the green and fragrant country.
" Do all women think their husbands the best of mankind ? "
wondered Fanny, thoughtfully ; " or am I really more highly
favored than a majority of wives ? "
" Not a bit of it ! " returned Raymond, bluntly ; " every seine
tl at splashes into the sea matrimonial brings up better fish
than you have caught. Good-afternoon, Mr. Brent."
They had turned the horse's head towards the city, and the
individual addressed — a fat farmer, driving a pony as corpu¬
lent — took the right side of the road to give them the main
track. As he did so, he raised his hand as a signal that he
had something to say. With apparent reluctance, Raymond
halted.
" I left the strawberries and the genu wine cream — no chalk
and water — 'cording to our arrangement," he drawled. " Hope
you'll enjoy them." And pursy man and pony jogged on.
" Strawberries ! " repeated Fanny, " and cream ! What
does it all mean, dear ? "
" It means that a little surprise which I meditated as a sauce
to your supper is spoiled by an officious tongue," said Ray¬
mond, provoked.
" What a man you are ! " was the brief rejoinder ; but the
affectionate glance accompanying the ambiguous sentence spoke
volumes. " I have but one suggestion to offer with regard ta
your programme of ' the day we celebrate,' " remarked Fanny,
276
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
as they neared home ; " have you any objection to Rose's and
John's company to tea? You know this is her birthday, too."
" I remember ; and shall be more than glad to have them
with us. Here we are close by their house. I will wait for
you, while you run in and invite them."
Fanny was absent longer than Charley thought convenient,
and the endeavor to appease his resentment at the injury he
had sustained occupied his mother until they were set down at
their own door. Bessie, a smiling lass, whose rosy face and
white apron were alike discreet concerning the mysteries of the
kitchen rites which had occupied her since early morning, ran
down the steps to receive the " babby." The man from the
livery-stable was in attendance by appointment, and, transfer¬
ring the reins to his keeping, Raymond followed his wife up to
her chamber. lier sparkling countenance was subdued into
pensiveness ; but, without speaking, she folded her shawl and
laid it away with her bonnet, brushed her hair, and replaced
lier headdress. Then she sought lier favorite perch — her
husband's knee — and the concealed trouble came out, as he
had expected.
" Poor Rose ! "
" What of lier ? " inquired Raymond.
" She is overtasked, Ray ! John is a kind, worthy fellow,
but his education did not qualify him to cherish as he should a
girl so delicately reared as was our Rose. She never thinks,
much less speaks, a word of complaint ; but it tries my for¬
bearance sorely to see her fading beauty, and remark how her
strength has failed. She is a slave to everybody, husband,
child, even to her servant. There she was, pacing the lloor,
trying to sing to the cross babe that had scarcely been out of
her arms the live-long day, looking ready to drop with fatigue
and headache. Hetty fretted so that I could with difficulty
make her understand my errand, and myself comprehend her
refusal."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
277
" She refused, did she ? "
" Yes. Keeping but one girl, as she does, the entire care
of the child falls on Rose's shoulders every Monday and Tues¬
day—"
" And at most other times, too, I suspect," interrupted Ray¬
mond. " To-morrow is ironing-day ; Wednesday baking-day ;
Thursday scrubbing-day ; Friday Catherine's rest-day, a sea¬
son the ' misthress ' never liad the remotest glimpse of ; and
Saturday general cleaning-day. It is a shame for a man to
impose upon a wife as John Gray does. I would give him a
piece of my mind on the subject, were it not that he might
accuse me of unwarrantable interference in family matters."
" John means well," replied Fanny. " His antecedents were
unfavorable for teaching him right ideas of woman's duties and
woman's strength. He measures our dear, gentle Rose by Iiis
mother, whose constitution is one of a thousand."
" She is no woman," said Raymond ; " she is made, soul and
body, of cast-iron. The man that dared marry her must have
been brave as Julius Ciesar. No wonder he died young ! I
should have expired before the ceremony was over, granting
that I had survived the courtship. Bút, to return to the orig¬
inal question,—your girls leave off work at tea-time. Has
Rose learned to imitate Mamma Gray so well that she forces
the ill-used Catherine to rub at the wash-board after dark ?
Why cannot she sit by Hetty's cradle long enough to allow the
real servant leisure to take tea here ? "
" Just what I proposed ; but Rose 'never liked to ask extra
work from the help on busy days, especially Monday.' One
thing I can do —send her a portion from the bountiful supply
of dainties with which my husband has crowned my birth-night
board,"
Accordingly, while Mr. and Mrs. Gray sat at their earljf
tea, the neat-handed Bessie made her entry, bearing a traj
24
278
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
whereon were placed a glass dish of ripe, odorous strawberries,
a silver pitcher of " genuwine " cream, and a plate of frosted
cake, with " Mrs. Park hurst's compliments, and many happy
returns of the day."
Rose's face and appetite were alike quickened into vivacity
at the sight. The cool, acid fruit was what she had longed for
through all the melting day. John had suffered an equal thirst,
appeased by sundry glasses of " cream soda, with pure fruit
syrups," imbibed unpremeditatedly, as he happened to be pass¬
ing certain druggists in his street. His wife " was at liberty to
do likewise," he would have said, if taxed with selfishness in
this particular. So she was, if she had not had the baby to tend,
the house-work to do, a cross servant in the kitchen to coax and
humor, and if the soda-founts so convenient to his store had not
been half a mile from his residence. He was hungry to-night,
and, after his wife's omissions in the usual bill of fare had been
noticed — attributed to Catherine's "Irish stupidity," and gen¬
erously assumed by the virtual maid of all work, as she re¬
paired her negligence — he contrived to swallow a tolerable
meal, to which strawberries and cream were no unwelcome
adjunct.
We have slandered John Gray, if the reader is led to con¬
sider him as unkind or unfeeling. He was a thorough man of
business, and, apart from his strong affection for his wife and
child, he possessed a sterling sense of right and honor, that
would have caused him to provide well for his family ; to see
that, so far as he knew, they should want for nothing. He was
not, strictly speaking, a liberal housekeeper, but he was too just
to be parsimonious. Rose might have had whatever she needed
or wished, for the mere asking ; but, with a queer perversity,
not uncommon in more courageous wives, the asking was to
her the most unpleasant task in the world. We know a lady
whose practice it is to lay her empty portemonnaie, its open
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
279
mouth testifying to its condition, upon her husband's dressing«
case before he arises in the morning ; and she assures us that
its mute eloquence never fails to accomplish the desired effect.
We know another, whose name we prefer not to mention for
especial private reasons (one of which is a praiseworthy fear
of tempting the less fortunate to a violation of the tenth com¬
mandment), whose drawer is visited — not periodically, that
would imply a stated allowance, but at uncertain intervals, al¬
ways short, however — by some perennial Santa Claus, who,
no matter how often he may find leanness and poverty of
pocket, never fails to leave a purse like an aldermanic oyster
behind him.
To neither of the systems did John Gray incline. Family
expenses, including bills for dry-goods and fancy articles, were
defrayed by him personally, and he had no suspicion of any
use which a woman could, in these circumstances, have for
money, unless for five dollars or so a quarter, wherewith to
purchase confectionery. Although it has no immediate bear¬
ing upon our story, we may here revert to the fact that Rose's
private hoard consisted of a forlorn three cent piece at the
period of which we are speaking, and that she was no poorer
than she had been for weeks.
" Raymond is a good fellow, but disposed to be extravagant,"
John said, as Rose replenished his saucer with fruit. " Straw¬
berries are dear at this season."
" But how delicious ! " answered Rose. " I have not tasted
anything so delightful in an age. Then, too, this is an extra¬
ordinary occasion — Fanny's birthday."
She did not add " and mine," lest he might imagine that a
hint lurked in the sentence.
" Did I tell you that he had bought a horse and carriage ? "
asked Mr. Gray.
" No ; but they called here as they were taking their first
280
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
drive tins afternoon. The whole affair was a surprise-gift to
Fanny."
" Indeed ! She had notified him of a hankering for it, no
doubt. Fan is stylish in her notions — rather gay. I trust
she will not tempt her husband too far."
"It is her nature to be lively," returned Rose; "but noth¬
ing was more foreign to her intentions than to ask for a car¬
riage of her own. Cannot Raymond afford it, my deai ? "
" Why, yes ; that is, the expense will be covered by his in¬
come ; but so could I 'afford ' a hundred follies which it would
be unwise to commit. A young man should lay by son ething
every year — every month, in fact, against a rainy day.''
" Raymond has insured his life for the benefit of his family,"
said Rose, who both loved and admired her brother-in-law.
" True. And if he is content that they will be moderately
well off in the event of his decease, it is none of our business
what becomes of the rest of his money."
Hetty's fretful cry, at awakening, here summoned her mother
to the nursery. Mr. Gray read the evening paper in the snug
library, and then went up stairs. Rose was in the act of depos¬
iting the babe in the crib. " Sh-sh-sh," she whispered at her
husband's entrance, and, as the child's slumber outlasted her
transfer, a sigh of weariness, intense and inexpressible, escaped
the much-enduring parent.
"You look jaded," remarked John, kindly. " Go to bed
early, and get a good night's rest. I have an engagement with
a country customer at the ——- Hotel at eight o'clock, and can¬
not say definitely at what hour I shall be home. Do not sit up
for me."
Rose had been revolving the bold plan of coaxing Catherine
to pass an hour in the nursery while John and herself should
step in to see Fanny, and thank her for her recent kindness ;
and the frustration of this simple desire cost her, in her worn
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
281
and tired state, a flood of tears as soon as her husband's back
was turned.
The outer air was invigorating after the confined atmosphere
of the house, and John enjoyed its freshness, as he walked
slowly up to the hotel. The engagement was neither tedious
nor unprofitable. It was not nine o'clock when the merchant
found himself in his own street, and opposite his partner's dwell¬
ing. The windows were open, and the sound of merry music
rang out blithely into the night.
"I may as well look in upon them," he decided, after a
moment's pause. And he rang the bell.
Fanny was at the piano, Raymond standing behind her, sing¬
ing with her. There was no one else present.
" I called in to offer the compliments of the occasion — to
say, ' many'happy returns,' etc.," said John, shaking hands v.rith
them both. "May your shadow never grow less, Fan, and
you live a thousand years ! "
" I wish you had afforded us the chance to say the same to
Rose," replied Raymond. "We were disappointed that you
could not celebrate the joint birth-night here."
" Joint birth-night ! " echoed John. " How forgetful I am !
It has not crossed my mind before that you were born on the
same day of the month. Why did not Rose remind me of it ?
And that was the meaning of the very proper message Bessie
delivered with your most acceptable donation to our tea, Fanny ?
It struck me as being decidedly Hibernian in its construction."
There was an awkward silence of an instant; John was dis¬
posed to be aggrieved at his wife's reserve, and his hosts were
sympathizing with lier in the causes that had induced this
reticence, and marvelling that no pang of self-blame at his for-
getfulness worried him. The temporary embarrassment was
quickly over, and a social, friendly chat of nearly an hour
followed.
24*
.82
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" Bring Rose with you the next time you come, and let that
be soon," was Fanny's parting request.
" I will, if I can ; but she is growing willfully domestic,"
answered John. *
The phrase recurred to him with painful force as he con¬
trasted the exterior of his dwelling, dark and desolate-looking,
save for a dim light in the second story, with the light and music
he had just left. Rose was asleep, with Hetty upon her arm.
So profound was her -repose that she did not stir at her hus¬
band's entrance. The care-worn lines had not passed from her
face, and John stood over her, scanning every feature with a
mingling of pity and discontent.
" She might be ten, instead of two years older than Fanny,"
he said to himself. " She was much prettier than her sister
when we were married ; but, poor girl ! she is not now. What
can be the reason that some women break so much faste1* than
others ? "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
283
CHAPTER II.
Ten years brought to the sisters larger households and pro«
portionably heavy cares, and to the firm of Gray & Parkhurst
steadily increasing wealth. Both families still occupied the
houses which were the parents' bridal gifts, but it had been
found necessary to make additions, and each had, in turn,
received needful repairs. In these alterations, they had lost
their original resemblance to one another. The Grays' house
was a substantial, comfortable building, with, as old Mrs. Gray
remarked, in unintentional plagiarism of Mr. Edmund Sparkler,
" no nonsense about it."
"But it isn't grand and pretty like Aunt Fanny's," com'
plained Hetty, her grandmother's namesake, but not her admirer.
" Her house looks just like her. Anybody who had ever seen
her would know it in a minute. The front parlor windows
open down to the floor, and the balcony is all overrun with
vines. Her greenhouse is at the back of the other parlor, and
is full of beautiful flowers ; and there is a library, and music-
room, and such a lot of lovely pictures, and birds, and a great
play-nursery for the children — not a bit like this cramped
dingy place " — glancing contemptuously around the apartment.
" Mother, is not father as rich as Uncle Parkhurst ? "
" If he is, he knows better how to use his money," interposed
the grandmother, snappishly. " You will live to see the time
when you will thank him for not squandering it in useless
frippery, instead of laying it up for his children."
284
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" When will that be ? " queried Miss Hetty, pertly. " I am
afraid I shall not know how to enjoy it, if I have to wait very
long."
" You will learn, never fear! There is enough of the Pier-
son blood in you to keep you from tying your purse-strings
in a hard knot. If they know anything, it is how to spend
money."
Her oblique look at Rose pointed the sneer. It was under¬
stood and felt, but the daughter-in-law essayed 110 retort. She
stitched on diligently upon a pair of half-worn trousers — the
property of her only boy, the second child, a stout urchin of
eight years, who was mending a broken top by binding its frac¬
tured parts with twine.
" It won't stay together ! " he said, after several fruitless
attempts. " I wish I had a new top, mother. Bill Ellis pegged
this, last week, on purpose, the mean thing ! Charley Park-
hurst has a beauty, his father gave him on his birthday. He
lends it to me whenever I go there, but it looks shabby in a
fellow to be forever borrowing another fellow's toys."
" You had better be studying how to save and make money,
instead of wasting it." It wras the old lady who again assumed
the mother's prerogative of mentorship. " A great boy like
you to be fretting for playthings like a baby ! I am ashamed
of you ! "
" I am not fretting ! " fired up the boy, " and Charley is much
bigger than I am — a whole head taller — and he has play¬
things — a plenty of them ! "
" Charley Parkhurst is a spoiled child — the worst play¬
mate you could have ! He will make his father and mother
see trouble in abundance before he is grown, or I am mistaken.
He is completely ruined now. I saw that the moment I set
my eyes upon him."
" I say he isn't, either ! " said John, waxing hotter. " Hg is
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
285
the best boy in town, and Aunt Fanny calls him a real comfort,
so she does ! He minds the baby, and shows Bobby how to
ride his hobby-horse, a splendid horse, that was his — Charley's
own — when he was a little fellow, and he never grumbled a
word when Bobby wanted it — and goes with Rosey to school,
and winds silk, and runs errands, and I don't know what not."
" John ! go to play in the yard, my son," said Rose, warn*
ingly. "It is very naughty to speak in that manner to grandma."
" What did she call me a ' baby ' for, then ; and Charley a
J ruined boy,' I want to know ! It is bad enough to have no
fun, or toys, or anything, and to be obliged to split wood and
lug coal up-stairs, without being scolded to death every time a
fellow opens his mouth ! "
" Very well, young gentleman ! Your father shall hear
every word of that fine speech when he comes home," said the
old lady, reddening with anger. " This comes of your style of
training, Mrs. Gray. I must say that I did not expect to be
insulted downright by my son's children, in his house, and his
wife's presence ! "
As she swept out of the room, Hetty broke forth with a tor¬
rent of tearful passion, which Rose tried in vain to check. She
abused her grandmother under every vile epithet she could
muster ; bewailed her own misery and that of her brother and
sister in being obliged to submit to constant " snubbing " as
she called it ; declared her intention to maintain open war, and
to aggravate the enemy by every means in her power .; accused
her father of lack of affection for his wife and children, because
he liad invited said enemy to take up her residence in his house.
Here the mother's gentle spirit was aroused to indignation. As
calmly as she could, but more sternly than any of her children'
had ever heard her speak before, she reproved her daughter's
unbecoming language and demeanor, and sent her to her cham¬
ber to reflect upon her fault.
286
HUSBANDS AND HOMES,
The nursery having been thus cleared, save of the baby that
slept in its crib in the corner, Mrs. Gray could work and think
in outward quiet, if not inward peace. The " breaking," de¬
plored by her husband, so many years previously, liad continued
without intermission. There was a sweet, resigned expression
in her face, which attracted the beholder's eye to linger upon
its wasted lineaments, and this was the sole vestige of her once
fresh and fair beauty.
" Your wife had a miserable constitution to begin with,"
John's mother informed him, now and then, when an illness of
a few days was Nature's revenge for the unreasonable burden
imposed upon her energies. " And your children will grow up
as good-for-nothing, if you do not make them hardy while they
are young."
So, for the juvenile members of the family, were early set
lessons of industry and self-denial, such as adults are loath to
learn, except when necessity enforces their practice. Rose
yielded sometimes ; sometimes remonstrated feebly, and, oftener,
manoeuvred secretly to spare her darlings fatigue and grant
them forbidden indulgences, a course that weakened her influ¬
ence as well as their father's. The elder Mrs. Gray had given
up housekeeping, eighteen months before, and signified to her
son a willingness to confer upon hi inland his the benefit of her
society and example. As we have seen, the children hated, as
much as they feared her, while upon their mother the infliction
rested most grievously. Apart from the cares which this addi¬
tion to her family involved ; the restraint upon her will, speech,
and action ; the petty insults and direct outbreaks of temper,
with which her tormentor did not scruple to afflict lier, she had
the misery of seeing her personal importance diminish in her
husband's sight, day by day, and the unbending spirit of his
mother work out its purposes, in compelling his respect, and,
usually, his obedience. Fanny Parkhurst woffld, if placed in
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
287
a similar situation, have insisted upon her rights, declared her
supremacy as the wife of her husband's choice and the faithful
mother of his children. Hose's submission was so absolute, so
readily effected, that while her mother-in-law despised her as
she tyrannized, John suspected neither the subjugation nor the
despotism. Immersed in pecuniary transactions, outside of their
sphere he knew little, and comprehended less of the workings
of his domestic policy. While he imagined himself undisputed
master in his house, it never occurred to him that there might
be feuds between the inferior powers, and seditious mutterings
against these among the governed.
At the very hour that witnessed the storm we have described,
he was sauntering contentedly homeward, to dinner, in company
with his partner. Both were well-kept men of their age. There
may have been a slight tendency to a stoop in John's shoulders,
the result of too close application to his pen and desk, and Ray¬
mond's face was a trifle more full and ruddy than of yore, but
they had reached the prime of life with strength, health, and
looks uninjured by labor or time.
" That matter of Wheeler's is likely to turn out well," ob¬
served John, complacently. " It was a capital hit of yours,
Parkliurst. I confess that I had my fears, at one time, lest
your confidence in him might have been misplaced. You have
a longer head than you get credit for, with most people."
" I care comparatively little for what ' most people ' think or
say," replied Raymond, " so long as I am in the right track.
By the way, are you going to hear Mr. Everett this evening ?
My allusion to modest independence suggested a like trait in
Iiis character of Washington," smiling as he spoke.
" Does he deliver his oration to-night ? It had slipped my
mind. It is a mystery how you remember everything. I had
not thought of it, but I may go."
"Do, by all means!" urged Raymond. "Fanny and I
288
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
heard him in Baltimore last spring, and our appetites were
only whetted, as it were. It is a treat, such as few enjoy twice
in a lifetime. You will never forgive yourself if you miss it."
" I am not so enthusiastic in my notions as some of my
friends," said John, jestingly, " yet I appreciate a really fine
thing, after my fashion, and I suppose I am in no danger of
being cheated in this case. Where can I get tickets ? "
"At A 's and B 's, and four or five other places.
If the reserved seats are not all sold, you had better secure
two for yourself and wife. It will be more convenient and
pleasant."
" I do not know that Rose will care to attend," answered
John, carelessly.
" Not care to attend ! Nonsense ! " cried Raymond, indig¬
nan tlv. " The doubt is an insult to her understanding and
*/ O
taste ! Moreover, think of the double pleasure to yourself.
Much as I crave a repetition of the delight with which I
listened to him on a former occasion, I would not stir a step
without my wife."
" Circumstances alter cases," said John, in the same indiffer¬
ent tone ; " Fanny and Rose are very dissimilar in their tastes
and habits."
Raymond bit his lips to avoid speaking too plainly his opin¬
ion of the influences that had occasioned the change in those
whose early lives had been so much alike.
" Dissimilar or not, they are two of the best wives in Chris¬
tendom," he rejoined. " Our good luck in getting them should
be a source of lifelong thanksgiving with us."
" So other men think and say, whose companions do not
seem to us models of perfection," said John. " Rose is a good,
dutiful wife, I must admit, and a devoted mother. She is a
thought too indulgent, perhaps ; but that is not a singular
failing."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
289
" Fanny is a better manager of the young ones than I am,"
replied Raymond. " She lias a way of controlling them which
I cannot acquire, study the art as I will. They love and
obey her better than they do me, and I admire their taste, the
cunning imps ! They know that she is worth ten of me."
John shrugged his shoulders. "I begin to believe your
account of your native modesty."
"Believe, instead, in my discrimination, if you please. I
value a first-class woman when I find her. Solomon spoke
very guardedly when he declared the worth of such a one to
be above rubies. It behooves us to cherish our treasures with
jealous care, for they cannot be replaced if we lose them,
John ! Is not Rose looking badly ? So it struck me when I
met her yesterday. Do not let her overwork herself. They
will do it, the most sensible of them. I have to watch my
wife all the while to prevent her from committing this suicidal
mistake. She would think it a privilege to be allowed to
carry her load and mine too, to say nothing of serving and
pleasing the children. Women have an uncontrollable pro¬
clivity towards self-sacrifice. I hardly know whether most to
honor or deplore it."
" Rose appears to me to be as well as she has been at any
time within the past dozen years," said John. " She was never
robust, and she seems more frail than she really is. People of
her complexion and organization wear out early. She was too
delicately raised. It is a crying fault of this age, the neglect
of girls' physical education. Parents seldom acknowledge it
until it is past cure."
" So I think ; therefore I take care that my girls shall have
abundance of fresh air and exercise ; encourage them to play
with their brothers, and provide inducements for them to be
much out of doors. And this reminds me of a scheme which
Fanny and I had upon the carpet last night. Our Rcmy is
25
290
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
nearly ten years old, and, like your Hetty, is growing fast. I
was offered a lady's pony the other day, docile as a dog, and a
pretty creature. Suppose we make it the joint property of
the girls, and let them ride it by turns ? It would do more
for them than all the gymnasiums and dancing-schools extant.
Or, what will be better still, let us buy them a horse apiece, so
they can exercise in company."
" Better set them to sweeping floors, and buy each a spin¬
ning-wheel," John replied, with one of his mother's maxims.
" Girls in our generation have nothing to do but fall into ill-
health. Our mothers found occupation in their own houses,
which frightened off dyspepsia and spinal complaints."
" I retort with a proverb you cited just now," said Raymond,
good-humoredly. " ' Circumstances alter cases.' Spinning-
wlmels in private families, in this age of machinery, ' do not
pay.' he work which Hetty and Rosey would perform would
be the expensive and useless productions of amateurs. While
I keep servants to sweep my floors, it is ridiculous for my
daughters to perform menial offices. My highest ambition is
to have them grow up intelligent, cultivated, lovable women,
to marry men worthy of them, and to do their parts towards
the moral regeneration of our race ; for in this mighty refor¬
mation women — rightly so called — are to exert a wonderful
if unseen influence. God has blessed me with wealth enough
to afford them every facility for the attainment of this standard,
and, to be consistent, the intervals between their study-hours
should be appropriated to suitable pastimes. Their mother
wall see that they learn housewifery, and they could not have
a better teacher. I do not black my boots or rub down my
horse for amusement, and I do not mean to subject my wife
end daughters to the degradation of unnecessary drudgery.
All work and no play ' — you do not need that I should repeat
the rest of the adage. Come in and dine with us, won't you ? "
— as they halted at the foot of his steps.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
291
" No, thank you —"
The sentence was cut short by the opening of the door, and
an avalanche of clean-faced, smooth-haired, merry-voiced chil¬
dren. " Papa ! papa ! " was the greeting, and in the hall be¬
hind them appeared their mother, smiling as bright a welcome.
She nodded a cordial recognition of John's parting bow, and
he had leisure to notice the taste and neatness of her apparel
and the becoming arrangement of her hair.
"What a wife-spoiler Parkhurst is ! " he said, half aloud, as
much to silence a whisper of mournful contrast in his own lot
as to express his sentiment. " He is bringing up his girls in
the same way, too. I hope he may not find his system as chi¬
merical in- its advantages as I anticipate. What wild theories
he indulges in sometimes ! very fine and very impracticable."
There were no joyous acclamations as be turned the key in
his front door. His wife was in the dining-room always at this
hour, and thither he directed his steps, after laying aside his
hat and washing his hands.
" Dinner ready, Rose ?"
" Nearly," she responded,' hurriedly arranging the dessert-
plates upon a sideboard.
" It is high time that it was on the table ; I am later than
usual to-day."
And not to lose a moment of his valuable "time," he drew
a paper from his pocket, and began to read the reports of the
stock-market.
Rose disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. Susan,
one of Catherine's remote successors, was drawing the meat
from the oven, and none of the vegetables were dished.
" Mr. Gray has come home in a great hurry, Susan ! " ex¬
claimed Mrs. Gray, catching up a pot of potatoes, and pouring
off the water.
This was an every-day story, and produced as much effect
as could have been expected.
202
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
"Hetty! Hetty !" called her mother, at the bottom of the
staircase.
No reply.
"John, run up stairs, and tell your sister that I want her in
the kitchen right away ! "
And back she darted to assist the cook, by doing three-quar¬
ters of the work herself—a result upon which the shrewd
" help " had learned to calculate with such certainty that she
would have deserved to forfeit her reputation as a " shirk "
(all Mrs. Gray's servants were " shirks," after living with hei
awhile), if she had not availed herself habitually of this aid.
Hetty came in, slow and sulky, as the last dish was ready
to be carried into the eating-room. Avoiding her mother's
sorrowful eye, she followed her to the table, where the iron
grandmother already sat in stern stateliness.
" lour cook does not improve in punctuality," she observed
to her daughter-in-law, the instant the blessing was said. " I
am surprised that you keep her. It must be a serious incon¬
venience to you, and may be the cause of positive loss to your
husband. Methodical habits on the part of his family are of
the utmost consequence to a business man. I notice that my
son is never tardy."
Rose, heated and breathless from her rapid movements in the
close kitchen, found her ordinary refuge in silence, and ladled
out the soup as fast as her shaking hand would allow. The
other courses were served in quick succession, and dispatched
in corresponding haste ; for had not Mr. Gray lost ten minutes
of priceless "time," in waiting for his "tardy " wife to take up
dinner ? If she had ruptured a bloodvessel in her anxiety to
repair this incalculable damage, it would have been but an
insufficient expiation.
The meal was plain, but good, and all ate heartily, excepting
the one who sat at the head of the board. She trembled with
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
293
a sickening heart, lest her mother-in-law should execute her
O 7
threat of informing against her boy, for his disrespectful de¬
portment and words — lest Hetty's lowering brow should attract
her father's attention, and explanation lead to punishment for
the misdeeds she was ever ready to forgive and overlook. But
the chairs were pushed back, the children had withdrawn, and
no disclosures had fulfilled lier forebodings. With a brief
" Good-afternoon," John quitted the apartment in quest, no
doubt, of the lost ten minutes, and Rose breathed once — a
long, free respiration that heaved a load from her heart. She
started with a stifled scream when he suddenly reappeared.
" What ails the girl ? " asked the old lady, sharply. " You
have given way to these nervous notions until you are ready
to fall into a spasm if a pin drops. Are you afraid that your
husband will bite you ? "
" I beg your pardon ! " And Rose forced a smile to her
pale lips, as she addressed him. " I thought you were gone."
" There is no occasion for fright at' my return, that I can
see," he said, drily. " You should try to overcome that foolish
habit of starting and screaming out at the least surprise. I
stepped back to inquire if you wanted to hear Mr. Everett
to-night."
Ungracious as was the invitation, Rose's eye kindled at the
proposition. Had John been accustomed to note the changes
in her countenance, he would not have paused for a verbal
reply.
"Would not you like to go, mother?" she said, timidly, as
a second thought suggested the propriety of the appeal.
"No! I would not pay a dollar to hear General Wash¬
ington himself, and I shall not lend my support to any such
humbuggery as this oration. It is a regular imposition to
charge so much, and for what ? To buy a few acres of poor
4 old fields ' and a handful of bones ! Pugh ! There will ha
25*
294
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
fools enough to fill the house without me. Thank goodness,
my happiness does not depend upon gadding about to this and
that show and sight. In my day, women stayed at home,
mended their husband's clothes, watched the servants, took
care of the children, and left politics to the men. But these
proceedings are all of a piece with the rest of the strong-minded
doings of the times. I expect to see a woman President of the
United States, before I die."
"Well, Rose — and you?" pursued John, smiling at this
tirade.
" Perhaps I had better not go," she said, hesitatingly, scan¬
ning his face for encouragement to decide differently.
" As you like. I did not suppose that you would care par¬
ticularly about going, you are such a home-keeper. I shall be
up early to tea, and do see that Susan is not dilatory, or I shall
lose my seat in the hall. The crowd will be immense, and I
dare say you will be more comfortable here than there."
"Where is Rose?" inquired Fanny, as she was jostled
against John in the animated throng that poured into the
brilliantly lighted hall.
" She did not wish to come," was the ready and sincere
reply. And not a regret, hardly a thought, on account of her
absence, interrupted the eager interest with which lie heark¬
ened to the silver-voiced orator. Her life was of his " a thing
apart."
husbands and homes.
295
CHAPTER III
" Rat's " children were always in demand at the old home¬
stead, and this summer the three elder were left there, while
the parents made an excursion to Canada, by way of the lakes.
" Fanny was getting thin — the effect of nursing that great,
fat child all the winter," Raymond discovered, and his love
instantly took the alarm. Before starting, he made one more
ineffectual attempt to persuade John of the expediency, amount¬
ing to a necessity, of recreation for his overtasked helpmate ;
but was baffled by the same strange carelessness, a dullness
which would not or could not recognize any reason in his
expostulation.
The Parkhursts were absent three weeks in performing
their tour, and spent three more in rusticating among Ray¬
mond's relations. Immediately after their safe arrival at
home, Fanny hastened to see her sister. We will leave her
to relate the substance of what she then learned of the course
of events since her departure.
" Would you believe it ? " she began, with glittering eyes
and scarlet cheek, to her husband, before she fairly closed the
door after her entrance. " That wild, dissipated, worthless
William Gray has come to life, again, and is actually domes«
ticated at John's ! "
" Is it possible ! When did that happen ? "
" A fortnight ago, Rose says. He arrived late one night,
when John was out of town ; frightened his mother almost out
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
of lier wits, and shocked poor Rose into a fainting-fit; for,
only think, darling ! he had an attack of delirium tremens
within an hour after he got there, and for two days raved so
that they were obliged to hold him down in his bed ! Since
his recovery, he has had a conversation with John, who pro»
posed to allow him a certain sum for his maintenance in a
respectable boarding-house ; but he vows that he will not be
kicked out of doors like a pauper, and his mother is as deter¬
mined that if he goes, so will she. It is the only spark of natu¬
ral affection I have ever heard of her showing, and how unjust
it makes her ! For love of, or sympathy with this ungrateful
spendthrift, whose excesses have disgraced her name, she
would fasten an absolute curse upon a dutiful son and his
unoffending family ! Rose is completely crushed. I never
heard her intimate a censure of Mrs. Gray, much less of John,
before ; but to-day she wept as if her heart wou.d break when
she told me how she had gone down on her knees to her
husband, and implored him, for the sake of his boy and his
innocent daughters, not to subject their home to such a plague
as the constant presence of a drunkard and infidel must
prove."
" Went down upon her knees ! "•— Raymond was tramping
the floor, scattering chairs and ottomans in all directions as he
moved. " I would see mother and brother in the other hemi¬
sphere before I would*permit my wife to stoop to that! Poor
Rose ! dear child ! suffering angel ! Go on, if you have any-
thin 2; more to tell ! "
" She said that John was deeply afflicted, almost distracted
by her importunities and his mother's resolution ; but finally
decided that his paramount duty was to support those of his
own blood ; that it would be unsafe to leave the old lady
exposed to William's mad freaks, and unkind in the exlretne
to desert him because he is poor and unfortunate. Rose says
ÍIUS1UNDS AND HO M KS.
297
this is a noble determination; indeed, she quite deifies John
for it, and blames her selfishness that will not let her reason
her heart into acquiescence. She is afraid of William, dares
not remain alone with him for a single moment, or suffer the
children to do so. His morose and violent fits keep her in
perpetual dread. She was never courageous, and her nerve
seems now entirely destroyed. Unless there is some change
in her surroundings, I have great fears that she will not live
very long."
This apprehension was shared by Mr. and Mrs. Pierson.
They had submitted silently, but with inward heartburnings,
to the spectacle of their child's privations and trials, and now
the cup of bitterness ran over. Raymond's earnest pleadings
with his friend were seconded by them, with more heat and
less judgment. John, already smarting under the wound to
his pride produced by the abandoned course of his reckles«
brother, irritated by his mother's inconsiderate and violent
opposition to his wishes, sensible, withal, that he had acted
wrongly as well as weakly in turning a deaf ear to his wife's
prayers, was exasperated beyond measure by the arguments
and entreaties used to alter his purpose. His interview with
Parkhur-st terminated in a peremptory command to the lattel
to " mind his business, and not meddle with his neighbors'
7 O
private concerns ; " that with the Piersons was even more
stormy, and was the foundation of a marked coolness on both
sides — a cessation of social intercourse, between himself and
Rose's parents. The old people never came to the house when
Mr. Gray was at home, and, while he insisted that his wife
should continue her visits to them, nothing could prevail upon
him to cross their threshold.
Rose " bore up wonderfully," said her relatives. Even the
watchful, affectionate sister marvelled at her stoical composure,
and began to believe that the hardening process had wrought
298
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
out its end, with such unlikely materials as the tender, sensi¬
tive wife. John and his mother congratulated themselves and
each other that the family rupture had so slight an effect upon
her, both acknowledging that they had expected a storm, instead
of the dead calm that had come over her. She toiled meekly
as ever through her onerous duties, growing daily more " wil¬
fully domestic," never intimating her realization of the added
weight so unfeelingly put upon her; and John, relying on his
mother's guarantee that she " would see to it that William's
residence with them should not swell their expenses one dollar's
worth in the year," instituted no inquiry as to the kind and
quantity of the help she furnished to accomplish this end
Rose could have told him, and so could the discontented chil
dren, whose murmurs she hushed before they assailed his ears.
They saw the keen surveillance exercised towards their
mother's actions ; her privacy invaded ; all her contrivances
and expenditures dragged to light, criticized, and condemned ;
their few indulgences in appetite, recreation, and dress curtailed
by the same vigilant and pitiless dragon^ and their hearte
brimmed and boiled with such passions as youth and infancj
should never know.
Heaven is merciful, ana to human endurance — even to
woman's endurance — there must come an end. Through the
tedious, darksome winter, Rose Gray suffered and worked with
the fortitude of the Christian martyr who sees the end not far
off. Early in the spring, a feeble babe, a tiny caricature of
healthy, plump infancy, so puny was its skeleton frame, sent
up one tremulous wail in the dwelling of the Grays, one piteous
cry, that sounded like a deprecation of life and a prayer for
death, and its brief existence was over.
" It is dead ! " said the grandmother, in her cold, hard tone.
Mrs. Pierson looked anxiously towards the bed ; but the
caution came too late, if there had been any disposition t»
regard it.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
299
£< Bring my baby to me, please, mother ! " petitioned a sweet
weak voice.
They laid it upon her arm, and her thin fingers passed
caressingly over the meagre little face. tears dimmed Mrs.
Pierson's vision, and the tender-hearted Fanny drew back out
of sight to weep.
" I am very thankful ! " said the gentle tones, weaker and
sweeter than before, " very thankful ! The Father is good to
it and to me, for you know, mother, it was a girl, and — it —-
is — best — so ! "
Her head drooped towards the baby-daughter, a fiutteiing
sigh was breathed upon its unconscious brow, and with the
mother, too, it was well !
HOW THEY DO IT;
EMBODYING A PLEA FOR WIDOWERS
PART I.
how he did it.
" He ah this, girls ! " exclaimed Mrs. Waitley to three or four
young ladies who were collected about her in her pleasant sit¬
ting-room, one fragrant August night ; and she read from the
evening paper : " Married, on the third inst., by Rev. J. Smith
Robinson, Conrad Elliott, Esq., of Oldport, to Louise Kather¬
ine, only daughter of G. B. Sinclair, of this city."
" You don't say so ! "
" Impossible ! "
" Infamous ! "
« Why ! his wife has not been dead a year yet ! " arose in
confusing chorus from the horrified listeners.
" And those sweet children ! what a trial for them ! They
still talk of their own mother — still mourn her ! " said Mrs.
Waitley, her eyes wandering involuntarily to her little Freddy,
her first-born, who had fallen asleep upon the foot of the sofa,
after the fatigues of the day's sports. " That is the most ob¬
jectionable feature of second marriages — this installation of a
stepmother, who may or may not be fit to have charge of such
sensitive little beings as children generally are.''1
"That is your view of the evil ; but, for my part, I consider
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
• >n i
o »; J.
all such unions not merely inexpedient, but positively wrong—■
utterly inexcusable ! " pronounced Clara Mercer, a fine-looking
girl, who sat at the hostess' right hand. " No man who evei
truly loved his first wife has a right to marry again. In so do¬
ing he must be false either to himself, to his former love, or to lier
whom he has chosen to supply the vacant place in his home.
It was never meant that one should espouse a wife because he
needs a housekeeper or nursery governess. Marriage in these
circumstances is worse than a mockery — it is a desecration of
this, the most ancient and the holiest of human contracts."
" Hear ! hear ! " said a manly voice behind the energetic
speaker. " Who has, by committing this heinous crime, brought
down upon his head the weight of your righteous indignation,
Miss Clara ? "
Mrs. Waitley's pale cheek flushed and her eye sparkled with
pleasure as her husband leaned over the back of the sofa to
kiss her, regardless of the observation of the rest.
" Only think, Edgar ! Conrad Elliott is married again ! Isn't
it perfectly disgraceful ? "
" Something very like it, it must be confessed," rejoined Mr.
Waitley, amused at the earnestness of her reprobation ; and
taking the paper from her hand he read the paragraph to
which she directed his attention. " When did his first wife
die ? "
"Don't you recollect? Last January—just eight months
since ! It seems only yesterday that I attended the funeral,
and wept over the motherless babes, so carefully nurtured, so
sadly bereaved," said the tender-hearted Mrs. Waitley, the tears
starting anew at the recollection. " And while her image is
yet fresh in their minds — young as they are — it is hard that
they should be forced to call another — a stranger — by the
endearing name of ' mother ! " If I believed that you could
act so heartlessly — bo cruelly, Edgar, after my death, I would
26
802
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
pray with my last breath that I might take my darlings with
me to a better home."
" Gently, my pet! You are going on at a terrible rate ! In
the first place, you may outlive me by some dozens of year» ;
in the second, if I were doomed to the misfortune of surviving
' » O
you, I trust that I know what is due to you, to my children,
and myself, too well to select your, successor in such indecent
haste. Elliott's feelings are none of the finest, I have always
thought. He is not one who would be troubled by scruples
on this score."
" I blame the lady of his choice as much and more than I do
him," observed Clara Mercer, severely. " She had not even
the pitiful plea of convenience or expediency, behind which
otherwise disconsolate widowers shelter themselves from the
just censures of society. Ugh!" continued the young lady,
with a tone and gesture of intense disgust — " how I despise
the perfidious wretches — practising with crocodile tears and
furnace-like sighs, upon the sympathies of credulous, simple-
hearted and soft-headed maidens ! How any woman of com¬
mon sense or common prudence can listen to them for an instant
passes my comprehension. Still less can I imagine the process
of reasoning by which a girl who possesses one atom of true
delicacy of feeling or depth of affection lowers herself to the
point of becoming any man's second-best love and second "wife ! "
" Take care ! you may live to repent your words ! " The
caution came from a mischievous damsel of eighteen, who until
now had appeared wholly engrossed in the task of dressing a
doll for little Susie Waitley, a child of three summers, sitting
watchful and happy in the lap of her friend. " I should not be
a bit surprised to see you marry a widower yet, and that in less
than a year from the period of his first becoming ' disconsolate/ "
" Myra Jewett ! how dare you say so ! " retorted Clara, hall-
vexed, yet laughing at the absurdity of the prediction. " What
warrant has my conduct ever afforded for your remark ? "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
303
" I judge chiefly from your violent protestation that you
would act differently," replied the minx composedly. " When
you are eauglu I shall remind you of this talk."
" You may ! " Clara promised readily.
" I believe all you say now," pursued the other, " but, do
you remember how Hazael asked -— ' Is thy servant a dog that
he should do this thing ? ' and became a murderer twenty-four
hours afterwards ? The race of Hazaels seems to me to multi¬
ply instead of diminish. As to men, they are all alike — "
" Thank you ! " Mr. Waitley bowed gayly.
" You needn't ! I was going to say that if you were ever
to become a widower, which Providence forbid ! — you would
behave as all your brethren do who get a chance to figure in
that character. It is a common adage that when a man loses
his wife lie buries his senses with her, and really I credit it
when I witness the fantastic tricks of the bereaved creatures.
I am not sure that it is not a fortunate instinct which impels so
many of them to rush frantically into matrimony again, since
by this means they can recover their lost reason."
" Hit him again ! he has no friends ! " interpolated Mr.
Waitley; then, tapping his wife's cheek — "Come, little lady,
cannot you venture a word in defence of the sex ? "
" We are not abusing the sex, Mrs. Waitley," said My ra.
" As bachelors, they are desirable — as husbands, convenient
and comfortable — often rather ornamental than the contrary ;
— as widowers, they are — "
" Detestable ! " Clara finished the sentence, ringing out the
adjective clearly and strongly.
" Fie ! fie ! I would have said 1 irresistible ! ' " said Myra,
in pretended horror. " I hope no member of the fascinating
brotherhood will ever pay his devoirs to me ! 1 Surrender oí
flight ' would be the only alternatives."
304
HUSBANDS AND IIOMSS.
" I will treasure up the hint, and recommend you to the fust
eligible widower I meet," threatened Mr. Waitley.
" As you please ! " said the unabashed maiden, coolly clipping
off a needlefull of silk — " only, if it is all the same to you, I
should prefer that the term of his affliction had lasted longer
than that of the latest case that has come under my notice. The
unhappy man spent two whole nights in bewailing himself,
stretched weeping upon his wife's grave. Upon the third morn¬
ing he was discovered diligently fanning the damp mound, con*
sidering it but decent that the marks of his tears should be
dried before taking a second partner to his lacerated bosom."
" Oh ! oh ! " was the simultaneous exclamation in various
tones of laughing incredulity.
" What is the matter ? " asked Myra, in mock surprise.
" Now his conduct in thus testifying his regard for appearances,
strikes me as being eminently respectable. I knew one man
who selected spouse No. 2 while peeping around the corner of
the handkerchief held gracefully to the eyes at the funeral of
No. 1. Still another case—and for the truth of this I myself can
vouch, was that of an elderly gentleman, who on being mildly
reproved for having contracted a second alliance in three months
after the decease of his wife, replied, in innocent amazement —
' Where is the harm ? Isn't she as dead now as she ever will be?
Will she be any deader in three years than in three months ! ' "
" Don't, Myra — please ! " begged Mrs. Waitley. " It gives
me a pain at my heart to hear such talk, even while I know it
to be the veriest jesting. It is a sad and dreadful thing, this
sundering of the nearest and dearest tie of earthly love. I
cannot think of it without a shuddering prayer that my hus¬
band may be spared to me, and I to him. That there are those
who can and do forget their sorrow quickly, and insult the
memory of the departed by an early marriage with another,
proves nothing beyond the fact that some husbands are not
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
30 ¿
gifted with fine feelings, or are deficient in affection for their
partners ; but we must believe that there are exceptions to the
rule, In the event of my decease my husband would never so
disgrace himself—never put such wrong upon my babes, and
there are many others like him."
No one spoke for a while. The v/ife's tone was too lull of
sorrowful earnestness to admit of further pleasantry upon this
topic. At last, Clara Mercer, with her accustomed decision of
thought and language, ended the silence : —
" It is a mystery to me how any of them can do it ! "
" And to me ! " rejoined Mr. Waitley, seriously, and there
the subject rested.
The conversation soon passed from the minds of the par¬
ticipants therein ; for within the following fortnight a graver
matter interested and saddened all. This was the alarming
illness of the most popular member of the little band — Mrs.
"Waitley. She had complained of a cold and feverislmess for
some days previous to the evening of the girls' visit, but on that
occasion rallied so far from the languor of indisposition, and
spoke so lightly of her malady, that her husband indulged the
confident hope of her speedy recovery. The next morning
she awoke with hot hands and throbbing head, and coughing
hoarsely. The disease gained character and ground so rapidly,
that, at the end of the week, it was reported throughout the
town where she had resided since her birth — loving and be¬
loved — that but slight hopes were entertained of her recovery.
On the tenth day they told her that she had but a little while
to live. She met the trial with Christian calmness ; gave minute
directions concerning the family arrangements that should suc¬
ceed her departure ; kissed her babes lingeringly, praying, in-
audibly but fervently, as she took a last, loving look of their
unconscious faces smiling into her dying eyes ; then lay quietly
back in her husband's arms to await the summons.
2G*
SOG
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Around the bed were gathered other friends, for sweet Anna
Waitley was a general favorite, and among these were several
members of the merry party that had assembled about her
lounge but a short week and a half before. As her eyes rested
upon these, once her companions m innocent gayety, lately he
affectionate nurses, some vague reminiscence of that last even
ing of comparative health may have entered her mind to ruffle
its heavenly tranquillity, for she gazed up at her husband with
an expression of wistful tenderness, not unmingled with anxiety.
" What is it, my own one ? " he inquired, ín response to the
mute appeal.
"Toa will not forget meV she articulated in feeble accents;
yet with perceptible emphasis.
" Never, darling ! never ! "
Tears fell with his kiss upon her brow.
" Thank you ! "
A smile of unearthly sweetness irradiated her countenance —«
was stamped there, not many minutes later, by the marbling
hand of Death.
The funeral over, and the sorrowing and busy friends having
dispersed to their several homes, the widower came back to
his desolate abode to fold his motherless little ones to his breast
in speechless, tearless anguish ; and when they had been carried
off to their beds, awe-struck, yet wondering in a blind, piteous
way at the fearful change that liad come over him and their
daily life, he watched through the live-long night in the cozy
boudoir she had loved and beautified — made to be the very
bower of domestic peace — staring in stony wretchedness into
the blank, icy darkness of the existence from which the sun had
been ruthlessly blotted out at noontide. With the day came
the stern demands of external duties, the mechanical drudgery
of business, the compulsory association with other men —■ and
he met these with sullen endurance, wralking faithfully through
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
307
the joyless routine, yet with an apathetic despair that was dis¬
cernible by tlie least observant of his acquaintances.
" It was plain," so people whispered pityingly to one another,
"that he took this affliction very hard. It was an awful stroke,
and had made quite another being of him. It was doubtful
whether he would ever be himself again."
This doubt was impressed upon the minds of most persons
who came in contact with him. Gloomy, reserved, unsmiling,
listless — it would have been hard to conceive of a greater
contrast to his former buoyant, earnest self, and the compas¬
sionate regards of the community went out, as the heart of one
man, towards the stricken household, as represented in him the
suffering head. He looked not merely lonely and sad, but lost,
bewildered, and wretched, beyond the power of words to express
— and he felt all this, and more. His love for his wife had
been deep and true, dating back to the girl-and-boy-days of
both. Their courtship had comprised all the romance that was
to be found in the lives of either ; their betrothal had preceded
their union by four years, and she had just entered upon the
seventh of her wedded life when the fiat of separation came
upon them like a thunderbolt from a cloudless sky, and behold
ruin and blight in place of smiling serenity and dear delights !
At the base of this stupendous mountain of calamity, on the
hither side of the grim door, that shut out from him forever
the blessed Past, lie had dared, in happy presumption, to dream
would be continued — a glorious, changeless Now — through
the maturity and old age of both — he stood appalled, hopeless,
rebellious! He had never thought of Anna's dying — his
shocked senses could not comprehend even now the whole
might and weight of the misery contained in that one word —•
" widowed !
The companionship of his children, which others seemed to
expect would be a solace to him, was, in fact, rather an aggra-
308
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
vation of his distress. Their artless prattle and innumerable
questions about the parent they missed at every turn, sometimes
wrought him into a kind of impatient frenzy. Talk with them
oil this theme he could not, and he repelled them hastily — it
appeared to them harshly. Often the very sight of the pair
was insupportable to him -— recalled the image of the deàd
mother, as he was wont to see her continually, busied about
their welfare ; memory rehearsed her tender offices and fond
endearments with such cruel fidelity that he was fain to fl y their
presence, to hide his grief in private.
Two months dragged by, and the cloud abode still black and
frowning upon his spirit, unlighted by one gleam of promise.
Still he lamented the departed in the wild bitterness of unsanc-
tified woe ; rejecting the proffered consolations of friends ; see¬
ing in the bereavement the destruction of every mortal hope ;
still visiting, as the one dear spot that remained to him on
earth, the green mound, beneath which he had seen laid to its
final rest the gentle head so long pillowed upon his bosom.
One bland autumn afternoon lie repaired to the cemetery,
intending to pass the sunset hour in its quiet seclusion, in real
or fancied communion with the spirit, whose presence and
blessing he so constantly and passionately invoked. As he
ncared the terminus of his pilgrimage, he perceived, through
the embowering trees that lined the avenue, the flutter of a
woman's robes, at or in the immediate neighborhood of his
wife's burial-place. Dreading a meeting with the intruder, he
approached her very cautiously under cover of the shrubbery,
designing either to drive her away by discovering himself un¬
expectedly, or to lie in wait near by until she should be gone.
A high arbor-vitse hedge enabled him to watch the movements
o co
of the unwelcome apparition — himself unnoticed, even while
he stood within a few feet of her.
It was Clara Mercer —- his wife's chosen and most intimate
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
309
associate — who, kneeling by the grave of her friend, was
arranging thereon the contents of a basket of ilowers which she
O o
had brought with her. It was not unnatural that Waitley's
first impulse should be one of fierce, almost uncontrollable jeal¬
ousy — resentment hasty and high — at sight of other hands
than his employed about the hallowed spot, and that these were
augmented by a certain angry recollection that he had, upon
several occasions, marvelled at the perfect preservation and
continued bloom of the blossoms he liad deposited above the
pulseless heart of the pale sleeper below. It was evident to
him now that these had been secretly removed between his
visits, and others deposited in the stead of the faded ones. But
this emotion of displeasure was transient — gave place to more
worthy and softer reflections, when, by a change in her position,
Clara's features were brought into view. Her face was be-
dewed with tears that, ever and anon, dropped upon the leaves
and buds she was grouping, obliging her to pause in her task
to clear her sight sufficiently to allow her to proceed. Her
work done, she remained kneeling by the mound, looking down
upon it with an expression of yearning and fondness that went
to the heart of the spectator.
u She too is a mourner ! " he said, inly. " How steady and
strong ivas the friendship between my Anna and her ! She
knows the extent, the irreparable nature of my loss ! "
After laying her hand caressingly on the turf, as in tender
adieu, Clara arose and turned to go. Mr. Waitley left his
place of concealment and met her at the gate of the enclosure
with outstretched hand and a countenance of grateful emotion,
which told that the object of her visit was understood. Startled
and embarrassed at the encounter, she blushed and tried to
stammer some words of excuse for the " liberty she had taken."
lie checked her. " There is no need of apology. I beg
you to believe that I appreciate and deeply feel the reason why
BIO
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
I find /ou here. This place is sacred in your sight as it is in
mine. I thank you for remembering her, and for the proof
of affectionate remembrance you have paid her. She loved
you dearly — next to the members of her own family. You
have a right to mourn with us ! "
Clara's fast-dropping tears were her response to this speech.
The tone of respectful gratitude towards herself — of gentle
affection for the dead — of profound melancholy in alluding to
his stricken family — sank deep into a heart already softened
by regrets for, and dear memories of, her early companion.
She was a woman of fine intellect and powerful feelings, but
she was not demonstrative of the latter ; was regarded in her
circle of associates as singularly independent of others' opinion
and esteem, if not deficient in feminine softness of character
and manner. Anna MY ait ley alone, of all lier young acquaint¬
ances, had thoroughly understood and warmly loved her.
Their intimacy had been close and long, extending over a
space of ten or twelve years, for both had passed the earlier
stages of womanhood.
" She was my best friend. I lost much in parting with her,"
she began, but the effort to control herself was insufficient, and
she made a movement to pass him.
" Allow me to see you to your carriage ! " said Mr. Waitley,
yet more gently, seeing her too much moved to sustain any
part in the conversation.
They walked, without another word, side by side, towards
the end of the avenue, where her conveyance was waiting, and
parted with a silent grasp of the hand. There was no one
besides Clara inside the carriage, and as the coachman drove
off, Waitley had a passing glimpse of her face, ñ om which she
had removed the handkerchief. The tears had bathed without
disfiguring it, and the blended sorrow, sympathy, and loving
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
311
remembrance, depicted in lier noble features, gave her an aspect
of peculiar loveliness.
" She looked almost angelic ! " lie said to himself, in retrac¬
ing his steps to Anna's resting-place. " My poor darling
always declared that there were few women like her ! "
Then, taking his accustomed position at his wife's side, his
mind swung back to meditations upon the magnitude of his
grief, and unavailing repinings for the society of his buried
love.
A week later he returned, at evening, to the habitation he
used to call " home," and going, from the force of habit, to the
library, exchanged his boots for slippers, his coat for a dressing-
gown, sighing heavily as he did so. Both these necessary
articles of fireside comfort were of Anna's manufacture, and,
after the manner of most other good wives, she had greatly
enjoyed making and presenting them to him. She was con¬
tinually studying ways and means for affording him additional
gratification. He was fast learning to seek but and cherish
depressing fancies ; his mind becoming morbidly alive to such
links of memory as at once hallowed, yet rendered afflictive,
the sight of every object associated with his wife, making his
misery her representative. It is a common form of selfish and
excessive woe. So, yielding to the train of thought suggested
or, more correctly speaking, deepened by his unwelcomed
entrance into a house where his appearance at noon and even¬
ing used to be the signal for general rejoicing, he sat himself
down in his arm-chair, opposite the vacant one he would not
have removed from the corner where she would sit — watchful
of every motion, ready to anticipate every want —in the blessed
days of old, and buried his face in his hands, groaning aloud :
" O, my precious wife ! how long can I miss you thus and
live ? '"
He seldom sent for the children to keep him company ai
312
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
tnis hour, although, in former times, he, with Anna, considered
it especially the little ones' season of liberty and petting —
gave themselves up to the combined amusement and teasing
consequent upon the society of these household tyrants. How
often he had sat just where he did now and listened to her
pleasant tones, repeating to them, as they hung about her or
climbed on her lap, the exquisite domestic lyric, beginning, —
" Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations
That is known as the children's hour."
It was this souvenir of her — not the desire to have them
with him — that caused him to inquire of the housekeeper,
when she brought in the evening paper, where Susie and
Freddy were.
" They went to ride this afternoon, sir, with Miss Mercer.
I thought you would not object, sir ? " interrogatively.
" Certainly not," rejoined Waitley, listlessly. " You are the
best judge of these matters."
"Miss Mercer called by for them," pursued the housekeeper,
upon this encouragement, "and they were so overjoyed at the
invitation that I had not the heart to refuse them. They have
seemed uncommonly quiet and dull lately, sir — poor things !
It isn't to be expected that children will grieve like grown
persons. If they are low-spirited long, it is generally a sure
sign that they are not well."
Mr. Waitley raised his head at these words. They were
the more worthy of notice since Mrs. Garth was not a great
talker, and was usually so much awed by her employer's grave
taciturnity as to imitate it while in his presence.
" Do you think them sick, then, Mrs. Garth ? "
" Not exactly, sir ; but the moping life they have led, since
— since — "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
"Ï understand!" interrupted her listener, with a look of
deeper gloom, as she stammered for a phrase that should be at
once delicate and expressive. " Go on ! "
" I mean to say, Mr. Waitley, that quiet and lonesomeness
don't agree with them any better than with most others of their
age."
" What would you recommend ? " asked the father.
"If they were mine, sir, I would let them go out oftener
and have young playmates at home," said the good woman,
further emboldened by the awakened interest of her hearer.
" Ah, Mr. Waitley ! sorrow is hard enough for older people to
bear ! You can't desire that they should understand all that
they have been deprived of. That knowledge comes all too
soon to every motherless child. The best we can hope for
them is to keep it from them while they are so small, and
make them happy while we can."
There was no reply beyond a sigh ; and after pausing a
moment to see whether he wished to prolong the confabulation,
she lowered the window-shades, set the drop-light near his
elbow, and left him to ruminate upon the hints she had thrown
out.
Had his woe, then, been so selfish as to render him unfeel¬
ing— blind to the wants and sufferings of his innocent offspring
— Anna's babes ! Was the deadly nightshade of his sorrow
poisoning their young lives? It was a sharp thought — but
the pang was a wholesome one, for it was endured for others'
griefs than his own.
" I, who should have striven to supply, in some measure, her
place — to compensate, to the utmost of my poor ability, to
them for their great loss— I have withheld from them even a
father's love and care ! "
He walked to a front window, and remained there, revolving
bitter self-accusations, while he watched for the return of the
27
314
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
defrauded children. He liad not to wait long, an 1 by the time
the carriage stopped he was at the bottom of the steps, ready
to lift out its living freight.
O O
" See, papa, what I have got ! " cried Susie, gleefully, hold¬
ing aloft a brown paper package in both her hands ; and
" Papa ! don't you think Cousin Clara bought me a splendid
bow-and-arrows ! " shouted Master Freddy, forgetting, in his
excitement, the oft reiterated injunctions of the nursery-maid,
" not to speak loud or make any noise that could worry his
poor sorry papa."
Mr. Waitley kissed them both, retaining Susie in his arms,
while he thanked Clara for her thoughtful kindness to his
children.
" It has been a long while since I have seen them so happy,"
he subjoined, penitently. " I feel keenly that I have failed in
, _;ö of the most important duties of a parent — that of render¬
ing his children's lot as pleasant as possible, whatever may be
his private and personal despondency."
" I believe that it is a duty," responded Clara, more modestly
than she was apt to speak in delivering an opinion. "Yet it
can hardly be demanded of you just now. It is not surprising
that you should, at times, be unequal to the effort of entertain¬
ing them. They appeared to enjoy their jaunt."
" And she says, papa, that, if you are willing, she will take
us out a great many more times. Wont that be jolly though ! "
vociferated Freddy, jumping up and down upon the steps
behind his father, too full of delight to stand still, as lie un-.
folded the enchanting prospect.
Mr. Waitley actually smiled — a gleam of real amusement
such as rarely visited his countenance now-a-days.
" I have no doubt that you think so, my boy ! Whether
Miss Clara may not repent of her bargain is another matter
which it may be well to consider."
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
815
" I will take the risk ! " she replied. " I may call or send
for them again soon — may I not ? Are you willing to entrust
them to me now and then ? I will bring them home in better
season next time."
•'I am more than willing—I am greatly indebted to you
for offering them so healthful a diversion."
" Then children — in a day or two we will have another
ride. Good-night ! "
"Isn't she a brick, papa?" inquired Freddy, following his
father into the house.
" She is a very kind, lovely lady, and you ought to feel very
thankful to her," rejoined Mr. Waitley, unable again to sup¬
press a smile at the patronizing manner of the precocious
youngster. He set Susie down upon the hall-floor, and bade
them both, " Fun away, now, and get your hats and cloaks
off! I mean that you shall take supper with me to-night."
With shouts of " Good ! good ! " the children scampered up
stairs.
Of late, their father had fancied that he could not support the
trial of having them at table with him in the evening. He
O m O
was always most sad-hearted and abstracted as the night came
on, and their noisy prattle about trivial and indifferent things
disturbed the sombre current of his musings. He saw them
but a few minutes at his hurried breakfast, to which they did
not come down so punctually as when the mistress' hand was
on the wheel, and lie invariably dined down town, near his
place^ of business. His tea was brought to him in the library,
and, as frequently as not, went away again untouched. Freddy
and his baby-sister Avere tutored to creep in 011 tiptoe at bed¬
time and bid him " Good-night," Avith faces curiously chastened
by the feeling of pitying amaze awakened by his dolorous vis¬
age and silent caress. It Avas no marvel, then, that the promise
of being once more admitted to the honor of supping Avith him,
316
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
as well as the influence of his unusually genial mood, filled
them with rapture.
They were back soon, hair and clothes in nice order, eager to
display their acquisitions. " Cousin Clara " had taken them to
a "magnificent"— (Freddy could just manage the polysylla¬
ble) toy-store, and there let each choose a plaything. FTot
without an effort, Waitley examined and admired the doll's
bureau, which was a miracle of elegance and utility in Susie's
eyes, and gave Freddy instructions in the use of his bow and
arrow. The little girl sat upon his knee while the lesson was
in progress, her fat, white arm laid over " Papa's " shoulder.
When he ceased speaking to her brother, and looked again at
her, he met her regards fixed upon him with an expression that
thrilled him to the soul, which made him draw her nearer to
him — hold her more tightly. How like the daughter's eyes
to the mother's ! Susie heard the stifled sigh, felt the strain
of the closer embrace. In an instant the other plump arm had
joined its fellow at the back of her father's neck, and the cherry
mouth was pressed again and again to his.
" Dear papa ! I love you so dearly 1 " *
" And I, too, papa ! " echoed Freddy, sliding his rougher
fingers into the hand that rested upon Waitley's knee. " And
I am going to be a better boy, sir ! "
" This is the refreshment I have denied my fainting spirit ! "
thought the parent, remorsefully. " I have yet something left
to live for ! "
This was the beginning of a reaction—not violent, but
o O f
healthful — a change in his demeanor and language which
none hailed with greater pleasure than did the inmates of his
-home. The servants no longer crept about the house like
solemn shadows ; Mrs. Garth ceased to think it necessary to
speak in condoling cadences whenever duty compelled her to
address the widowed master, and the children sported, laughed
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
317
and talked in rooms, to which the air and sunshine were once
more admitted. This altered state of domestic arrangements
had, without doubt, a potent effect in winning back the lost bloom
and childish gayety of spirit to the orphans, yet some part of
the happy change in their appearance and health was attributa¬
ble to Clara Mercer's judicious kindness. Their rides were a
never-failing source of enjoyment to the brother and sister,
and these excursions were but one of the many means she em¬
ployed for their entertainment. Her praises poured from theii
tongues into their father's ears with an eloquence and con¬
stancy that would have won for her his interest and gratitude
had she been a stranger. As Anna's best friend, her attentions
to Anna's children assumed a value for which common-places
of thankfulness and obligation were a poor and unworthy rec¬
ompense.
Chancing to overtake her in the street one morning, he
walked several squares by her side, and said some phrases of
acknowledgment of what he felt to be her great goodness.
" Do not speak of it ! " she interposed hastily. " Had they
no stronger claim upon my notice than their own merits, I
could not treat them with indifference. They are most engag¬
ing little creatures. It is impossible to know and not to love
them. Freddy has in him the material of a noble man, and
Susie is the dearest child I ever saw. By the way, I was
wishing for an opportunity of preferring a petition to you.
To-morrow is Freddy's birthday, and we want him to drink tea
with us. Children always expect a treat on birthdays, you
know. There will be no party, of course—only my three
nephews and their two sisters, to meet your boy and his sister,
and help demolish the great cake which is an institution upon
such anniversaries. I promise to see that there are not too
many sugar-plums eaten, and to send your children home in
the carriage at nine o'clock."
27*
318
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" There is no need of that ; I will come for them myself,"
answered Mr. Waitley, on the impulse of the moment. " 1
accept your tempting, invitation for them, and thank you in
their name."
Clara looked gratified, but astonished at his offer to calk
Since his wife's decease, now four months since, he had never
crossed the threshold of a single house as a visitor — had, so
far as society was concerned, been a complete recluse. He
repented him heartily of his hasty proposal almost so soon as
it was uttered, but he could not retract it gracefully
Even when he reached Mr. Mercer's door on the birthnight.
O ?
lie halted, and held serious debate with himself as to the feas¬
ibility of yet changing his plans, and despatching a servant in
his stead. The recollection that Susie was inclined to be wil¬
ful latterly — that she might be sleepy and cross on the way
home, and unmanageable by any one excepting himself, settled
the matter finally, and his irresolution ended in his mounting
the steps and ringing the bell. More important issues than
those which flowed from this decision have often been settled
by a more trifling consideration. The parlor was brightly
lighted, and the small people were in the full tide of hilarity,
playing blindman's buff. At the moment of Mr. Tvaitley's en¬
trance, wee Susie was being blinded by " Cousin Clara's " fin¬
gers. Their kind and cunning work was speedily made evident
by the child's careful avoidance of tables, ottomans, and the
like stumbling-blocks that beset her way. Her blindness was
plainly not of a dangerous type. Her father saw this, and
smiled at the tact that allowed the babe a share in the game,
yet guarded against harmful accidents. He laughed as the
outstretched arms grasped his knees, and a voice shrill with
delight cried —
" Papa ! I have caught papa ! What a great big ' buff ' ha
will be ! "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Clara interfered with ready subterfuge, and rescued the
prisoner, waiving the laws of the play in this instance, and
nominating his substitute. She was ever mindful of his feel»
ings — ever quick to avert annoyance and possible pain from
him. He took a seat with Mr. and Mrs. Mercer, without the
ring of boisterous revellers, and contemplated the scene with a
mingling of sadness and pleasure — pleasure in the spectacle
of his little ones' happiness — longing and heart-sickness in
the reflection of the contrast between this fireside and his own.
After ail, the seclusion of the past few months had been as
irksome as injurious to hint, he was slowly discovering— even
while he had believed that it was his choice, that his wounded
spirit shunned the society of his fellows. He was naturally
social in temperament, and had done his moral nature actual
wrong in avoiding all intercourse with his friends. He was
O O
glad to find that the present exhibition of cheerful domesticity
suited his palate better than the very bitter salad of the soli¬
tary which had been so long his daily food. He hailed it as a
symptom of returning health in mind and heart.
By and by, a tray of refreshments was brought in, and he
aroused himself from his philosophical cogitations and went to
assist Clara in distributing them amongst the children. It was
pleasant to note her management of their caprices ; her man¬
ner to them, winning and lively, and exactly adapted to the
character and comprehension of each.
"You pet without spoiling ! " observed Mr. Waitley aside to
her, as Susie, who liad set her infantine affections upon a bit
of richer cake than he thought good for her, sulked desperately
at his refusal, threatened a stormy scene, and only condescended
to be appeased by Clara's offer of another less hurtful, yet as
palatable dainty.
" That is the secret of getting along smoothly with these
very juvenile specimens," she returned smilingly.
320
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Mr. Waitley heaved a sigh at thought of the many times
when he was at his wit's end respecting the best method to be
pursued with his "juvenile" subjects, dreading to punish with
unwise severity, yet fearing lest he should injure them by urn
reasonable indulgence. He wished devoutly that heaven had
endowed him with the gift of " getting along" in such straits.
" But what can a man do ? " he asked inwardly and despond-
ingly. " A woman is alone fitted for this sort of work — a
woman, and a mother ! "
A series of thoughts flashed through his mind with the ce¬
lerity and force of chain lightning. He nearly dropped the
basket of cake in little Winny Mercer's lap, while she was
solemnly hesitating between lady's fingers and macaroons.
His first earthly duty now was assuredly to his children. They
were in a fair way to he ruined for the lack of suitable govern¬
ment. Clara might pronounce them " engaging little creatures,"
and they sometimes deserved her encomiums, but he could not
shut his eyes to the palpable deterioration of character and be¬
haviour in both. Mrs. Garth and the servants indulged them
to excess, and he did not spend enough time in the house to
enable him to counteract the growing evil. Freddy was be¬
coming rude — Susie pert and passionate. Since a woman's
tact and a woman's care were imperatively demanded by their
necessities, ought he not to consult their welfare rather than
his own selfish preferences, and procure for them such an
instructress and guide ?
With a deep flush on his brow that looked like anger, he
replaced (lie basket upon the tray, and strode to the other end
of the apartment, where he seemed to stare through the win¬
dow into the outer obscurity, until a musical voice at his side
accosted him.
" Mr. Waitley, in providing for others you have forgotten
yourself. Allow me to remind you that you are mortal, and
HUSBANDS AND HOMES
<321
stand m need of refreshment ; " and Clara held out to him a
small waiter, containing ice-cream, cake, and Avine.
He wheeled quickly towards her; bent upon her a glance
•of such eager inquiry as startled and confused her — she knew
not why — then recovering his self-pössession, thanked her,
took the burden from her hands, and set it upon a table near by.
" And you — are you superior to the wants of our common
humanity ? Can I do nothing for you in return ? "
A rash, perhaps a foolish, impulse had seized him. He was
in just the frame of mind that disposes one to trust to luck, and
make superstitious ventures.
" If she accepts anything from me, I shall give this subject
further and more serious consideration. If she declines, I will
dismiss it at once, and forever."
In blissful ignorance of the important matter to be settled by
her action — thinking to put him at his ease by eating with
him — Clara took a French kiss from the plate of cake, a mor¬
sel of crystallized froth, and pretended to nibble it, Avhile he
very soberly tasted his cream, and tried to discover whether
he were glad or sorry that the question was decided in this
way. He found himself presently scrutinizing her in a neAv
light. To be sure he had no intention of marrying her, or any
one else, at present — the wound in his heart Avas all too fresh
for that — still there Avas no impropriety in studying an attrac¬
tive character that might be of use to him some day. Clara
would be an excellent mother for his neglected children —
there Avas no room for doubt on that head — but had there
been unintentional meaning in her playful address to him ?
In providing for others, luid he overlooked his own needs ?
Was it not true that, Avhile he wore the garment of mortality,
he was indeed subject to human wants ? that the companion¬
ship of a kindred mind and heart ; the many nameless ways
in which a woman's presence and influence in a household are
322
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
felt for good ; the cheer and comfort and rest he had once enjoyed
so heartily —• which he now missed so sadly — were more than
desirable? Were they not indispensable to him? Without
them,"would his not be a dwarfed, sickly existence? Would
lie not grow misanthropic, morose, prematurely old, a curse to
his children, to the world, and to himself?
What of Clara Mercer's capabilities for filling this responsi¬
ble post — always providing that he should, upon mature delib¬
eration, determine to elect any one to it? He saw—not a
frivolous, giddy girl, whose chase after pleasure would shock his
sense of fitness, and conflict with the matured tastes of a man
who had lived in the world for thirty-three years, and whom
sorrow had chastened into thoughtfulness—-but a well-devel¬
oped woman, comely to behold ; a lady by birth and education,
of strong, well-regulated intellect, and, withal, a large, true
heart, whose worth he ought to know, perhaps did know better
than any one else now living. What more could he or any
other sensible man require ? He would think the matter over.
Little Susie added impetus to this resolution that night.
" Papa," she said, when he bent over lier crib to kiss her
before leaving her to the rest she needed after her unwonted
dissipation, " I wish you would ask Cousin Clara to come and
live with us all the time. I do love her so ! "
" Jolly ! " came from Master Freddy's bed — the energy of
his assent rendered somewhat less effective by his endeavor, at
the moment of articulation, to bolt a mouthful of the apple he
had surreptitiously concealed under his pillow for discussion
during the night-watches.
" Children are shrewd observers ; their instincts rarely err
There really seems to be a Providence in all this ! " piously
ejaculated Mr. Waitley, as he summed up the pros and cons of
the important case in his " thinking it over " — a orocess which
kept him awake far into the night.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
323
PART II.
K<>W SHE DID IT.
" Where are y.n g-vmg, my daughter ? " inquired Mrs. Mer¬
cer, one afternoon a veek or so after the birth-day gathering,
as Clara entered the apartment, bonneted and cloaked for a
promenade.
" I promised to take the children to see the Panorama to-day,
mother."
" What children ? " asked the mother.
Clara looked surprised.
" Freddy and Susie, of course Í Whom else did you think
that I meant ? "
" I was afraid that your engagement was with them," pur¬
sued Mrs. Mercer, with a troubled air.
" Afraid ! " echoed the daughter, doubtful whether she had
heard aright. " What possible objection can you have to such
babies as they are ? "
" None to them, certainly ! That would be simply absurd
Nor do I affect to question the purity of the motives which
actuate you in paying so much attention to poor Anna's orphans;
but it is my duty to inform you that the malicious world is
already busy with this choice morsel of gossip."
"And what can the world say? " Clara fired up instantly,
as a war-horse pricks up his ears at the sound of trumpet. Her
disdain of scandal was honest and active. " Nothing worse
than that I remember my friends, and cherish whatever waa
3 21
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
dear to them, whatever recalls them most pleasantly and forci¬
bly to my mind, while the fashion of the world is to forget
friends and sorrow together — that I prefer the innocent prattle
of simple-hearted babes to such intolerable and slanderous
gossip as is popular among grown-up people ! What do I care
for the world's opinion?"
" No woman can safely set it at defiance," rejoined Mrs. Mer¬
cer, in nowise disturbed by this outburst. She was used to her
daughter's impetuosity. " I own it has caused me some dis¬
agreeable sensations to learn that the current report is, that
you are making interest with the children for the father's sake."
" The mother, you mean 1" corrected Clara.
"I mean just what I say," replied the mother, smiling in
spite of herself. " You are a queer compound of wisdom and
simplicity, shrewdness and naïveté, my dear. I know that your
unconsciousness in this case is unaffected, but few besides my¬
self would credit its sincerity. Has it never occurred to you
that Mr. Waitley is now a widower, and that widowers are, as
a class, notorious for their haste in contracting second mar¬
riages ? "
Clara's breath came with a gasp of genuine amazement ; her
face flamed up hotly, then paled.
"You will believe me, mother," she said, after a moment, in
an agitated voice, " when I solemnly declare that, until this in¬
stant, the thought that Mr. Waitley was, legally or morally,
free to marry again if he chose, never entered my brain ! I
have regarded him all the while as Anna's husband, and he
knows it ! Those are cruel tongues — unfeeling as unfair —
that dare to couple his name with that of any other woman.
If there was ever a sincere mourner in this deceitful world, that
one is Edgar Waitley! His very soul was bound up in his
wife, and he will never cease to lament her ! "
Mrs. Mercer smiled rather mysteriously—it could hardly
have been in mere amusement — at Clara's warmth.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
825
" That may be so, my love. He was certainly deeply at¬
tached to her, and she deserved all the devotion he gave her.
For both their sakes, no less than for the children's good, I
would not have you discontinue your intercourse with the
family. Only, I cannot think it advisable for you to appear
continually in public as the guardian of Freddy and Susie. It
provokes unkind remarks. But have them here whenever
you like, and show them all the favor that is in your heart."
The effect of this warning upon a majority of women would
have been to produce a coldness and reserve of behaviour
towards the man whose name was thus publicly linked with
theirs — a frigid coyness that would have terminated the em¬
bryo courtship then and there. Clara was made of very dif¬
ferent stuff. The more she pondered upon what she had heard,
the warmer waxed her wrath against the author of the gossip,
and the more fixed was her resolution not to suffer it to affect
her demeanor to Mr. Waitley, or lessen her regard for the
children. He and they were no more to blame for this idle,
mischievous babbling of the world than was she, and they should
not,pay the penalty which the mischief-makers would be de¬
lighted to impose. Matters had come to a pretty pass if she,
Clara Mercer, were to be scared from the path of duty and the
exercise of simple humanity by the cackling of a flock of geese !
The next day was New Year's Eve, and much of it was
spent in getting ready several tasteful presents for her little
■proteges. The most elaborate of these was a small cradle, its
furniture and occupant, — designed as the crowning glory of
Susie's baby-house. Each of the appurtenances was perfect
of its kind, and all was the work of Clara's deft fingers. There
were embroidered blankets, hem-stitched sheets, quilted coverlet,
and ruffled pillow-cases, and amongst these dainty fixtures was
destined to repose a wax doll, more that a foot in length, with
real flaxen ringlets and movable eyes. Clara was putting the
28
326
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
finishing touches to the toilette of this infant phenomenon that
evening, seated alone in the family parlor, humming a gay tune
to herself, and, without knowing that she did so, gently rocking
the cradle with her foot, when the door unclosed to admit Mr.
U aitley. With a half laugh, combining apology for her oc¬
cupation and pleasure at seeing him, she arose to receive
her visitor. She felt a little foolish embarrassment, which she
explained to herself by reflecting upon the ridiculous figure
she imagined that she had presented at his entrance, and the
heightened color and trifling flutter of manner incident upon
th is added a charm to the attractive tableau.
For the first time, Mr. Y ail ley's eyes kindled at sight of
her with something strongly akin to a lover's animation; his
long depressed and quiet heart glowed with a sentiment of
admiration and interest that was very unplatonic in its char¬
acter. There were live coals left yet under the thick white
ashes of desolation. Their revivification was by no means an
unpleasant sensation either, and the hand-pressure, cordial and
prolonged, which their friendly relations warranted him in
giving to the object of his regard, was an intimation, but a very
tame one, of what was passing within. Verily, Mr. Edgar
Waitley had made wonderful progress in the study, of which
the initial lesson liad been learned but eight days before ! The
second love of gentlemen in his circumstances arises, usually,
like the fabled Phoenix, full fledged from the midst of the
cindery ruin marking the funeral pyre of former hopes and
affections. It is a law of nature,. Let scoffers be silent, and
candid lookers-on do reverence to the beautiful and eternal rule
of reconstruction !
The widower sat down beside Clara on the sofa with a
graceful assurance of his welcome, and an intention of making
himself quite at home — which a bachelor-novice in a like
position would have pawned his soul to acquire — made a
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
327
comment upon the weather, inquired after the health and
whereabouts of the rest of the family, then stooped to lift the
cradle to his knee, "Complimented it and the contents, and
thanked her warmly when he heard for whom it was intended.
He was a handsome man, and this evening Clara could not
help observing that his attire was unexceptionable. In this
respect lie had not been very fastidious during his temporary
retirement from society. Doubtless the feathers of the newest
Phoenix were always glossy to the last degree of sleekness.
Yes ! he was looking uncommonly well, and he presently made
her forget his personal advantages in the more lively enjoy¬
ment of his conversation. He was undeniably the best talker,
if not the most profound thinker, in the whole circle of her
acquaintances. It was very delightful to have such a friend —
one with whom she could lay aside ceremony and formal
reserves — one so congenial in all respects to herself. She
chatted away merrily therefore, plying her needle swiftly while
she talked, never suspecting that he silently admired her finely-
moulded hands meanwhile, occasionally appealing to him play¬
fully for advice concerning the dolly's finery ; revealing in her
freedom from constraint and unfeigned enjoyment of his com¬
pany, the best and loveliest phase of her character. Having
scouted utterly and with contempt the idea of Mr. Waitley's
playing the suitor to her, or to any one else, it was easy to
treat him cordially, to entertain him with a pleasure she had
no object in attempting to conceal. If she liked him, there
was no conceivable reason why she should not let him know
it. A single man would not have attained to this footing in
her regard, or been received with like familiarity at less cost
than a close siege of at least twelve months' duration. Tim
celerity and ease with which most widowers gain such vantage
ground is oftenest referable to their practice of this sort of
ungenerous surprise — tactics that remind one unpleasantly of
828
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
a wolf in sheep's clothing. True, all is fair in war, but first
let war be openly declared.
Mr. Waitley felt that for some time smooth seas and favor«
ing winds were likely to be his, but he was not disposed to
reef sail on that account. Holding up to the future the lamp
of experience, he arrived* at the sage conviction that many, if
not most of the ordinary preliminaries of courtship were useless
and tedious ; therefore it was the part of a wise man, who
knew the brevity of life and the value of a wife, to abridge
these prefatory measures, so tar as was practicable.
They fell into more serious and confidential talk at length.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Mercer were away from home, and their
tête-à-tête was not liable to present interruption. Their con¬
versation wandered into the Past—reviewing much that was
pleasant — more that was sad. Without the remotest design
of making capital of a sorrow so sacred, Mr. Waitley spoke
more fully than he had ever done before of the horror of lone¬
liness that had oppressed him during the dark months closing
the year now so nearly gone.
" It is not the anguish of bereavement alone that has bowed
the spirit," he said, " painful to me as was the tearing away of
the ties uniting me to her who had grown to be a part of my
very life. Had that suffering — present and intense — been
all that Providence ordained me to endure in this separation,
my manliness would have braced itself to support the stroke.
But every instinct of my nature recoils from the drear and
barren monotony of the prospect stretched out before me —the
solitary, purposeless journey of life. It is as if our Eden were
in an instant, by one breath of the Destroyer, changed into a
horrible Sahara. Then there is laid upon me the necessity of
bearing all this alone ! That one word epitomizes the saddest
features of this great trial. To live — to labor — to suffer —
alone ! "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
3 29
His deep voiee, mellowed by feeling, trembled here into
silence as expressive. A tear escaped Clara's eyelids, and lei
among dolly's cork-screw curls.
" Forgive me for casting the gloom of my darkened lot over
the brightness of yôurs ! " resumed Mr. ait ley. "It is not
often that I allude to my inner life. I have learned how few,
even of those who profess friendship for us, can listen with
tolerable patience to the recital of our individual woes. I feel
that, sure of your indulgence, I have been guilty of selfishness
— inexcusable selfishness — but to no one else have I gone for
compassion, even when the aching and longing for comforting
words and kindly looks were at their height. Do not despise
me-that in your presence I have been tempted to unbosom my
grief! "
" Despise you ! Surely we understand one another too well
for you to cherish such an apprehension for a second ! I
honor you the more for every word you have spoken. If 1
cannot enter into the secret depths of your affliction, I yet
know enough to be assured that it calls for superhuman strength
to enable one to bear it and live. If I could only comfort
you ! "
lier fine eyes, glistening with tears, were upturned to his.
She looked dangerously beautiful just then, and lier emotion
was a flattering tribute to his pathetic eloquence. It would
not have been a cross to him, if duty or gallantry had required
him, to dry the pearly dew with his kisses ; but a realization _
of their real position with regard to each other withheld him
from volunteering to perform the office. He contented himself
instead with taking her hand, and, regardless of the fact that
dolly's toilette was at a stand-still while he held it, retained it
in his as he continued his address.
" You do comfort me ! From no other source has there
flowed into my soul such balm as I have derived from your
28*
SCO
HUSBANDS AND HOHES.
society, your delicate offices of kindness, your wealth of wo>
manly sympathy ! You have been a minister of mercy to mo
and to my motherless babes. You have taught me the value
of pure and disinterested friendship ; for every generous act
of yours I have acknowledged as a tribute to her who has
gone. I am a proud man — yet, strange to say, the weight of
my obligation to you does not oppress me. On the contrary
the recollection of it gives me strength and a sweet sense oi
peace and joy. You are my better angel, Clara! Who knows
but you may have a mission to accomplish in teaching me
what is my true place and wrork in the world which one calam¬
ity has shrouded in darkness ? "
There! that was certainly quite enough for a beginning!
And, sensible of this, he relinquished the hand with a final
squeeze gentle, yet fervent — and was not displeased at
perceiving its tremulous efforts to proceed with the unfinished
work.
After an interval of silence, spent by him in furtive watch
of the flushed countenance that now bent low over her task, Mr.
Waitley again addressed his fair hostess. Iiis mood this
evening was sentimental and oratorical.
" May I ask you to accept this as a feeble testimonial of my
grateful recognition of the good you have done to me and
mine ?" — a slight pause — " likewise a souvenir of her whom
we both loved so well ? "
It was a beautifully tinted photograph of a miniature paint¬
ing she remembered perfectly—portraits of Anna and her
two children. It had been Mrs. Waitley's last birthday pres¬
ent to her husband. Clara had accompanied the trio to the
artist's at the first sitting, and been present at several others.
Her taste it was that had arranged the group —- Susie in lier
mother's lap, and the boy at her right leaning against her
shoulder. This was a fair copy of a pretty scene, and the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
331
likenesses were all good. Whence, then, the strange pang
that transfixed her heart for one instant as Anna's lovely face,
beaming with her own rarely beautiful expression, looked up
into her friend's eyes ? Did her conscience accuse her of
treachery to her dead companion as his wife ? or had the germ
of a new sentiment been implanted within the last hour — a
feeling more jealous than friendship — which, when it should
have arrived at its full growth, would scarcely brook the mem¬
ory of a former love, dust and ashes though she might now be ?
Clara put the pain from lier impatiently —- would not in¬
quire into its origin, nor of what danger it warned her. The
present moment was very sweet ; she had tasted few sweeter
in the whole course of her life ; for, as we have said before,
there were not many who gave her her meed of loving apprecia¬
tion. She was not vain or exacting, but she had a deep,
craving heart, and what she felt to be justice to herself was as
dear to her as to most other women.
" You were very good — most thoughtful to bring this to
me," she uttered, still studying the picture, whose every line
she already knew so well. It was not easy at that moment to
look him in the face.
u I would not have given it to another living being," he said,
emphatically. " It was painted expressly for yourself. I felt
that you had the best right to it—- next to myself."
She asked no explanation of this sentence, and none was
offered. ^
It was time to go. Mr. Y/aitley had said something that
was pretty and sounded heartfelt about her entrance upon the
Hew Tear so near at hand, and Clara must respond in like
manner.
" May yours be happy — far happier than this one has
proved ! "
There was a moment's silence, during which ahe did nol
332
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
dare to glance at his countenance. Had she done so, she
might have been surprised, as he was himself, if the truth be
told—.she would certainly have been reassured by the appar¬
ent ease with which he conquered the rising softness — the
sadness that overtook him at this reference to his " irrepara¬
ble " loss.
" Thank you ! " His voice was full of thought and feeling,
yet not sad. He moved a step nearer to her and spoke in a
lower tone. " It is for you to say how much or how little sun¬
light will fall upon my pathway."
There would have been no possibility of misunderstanding
this had he stopped here, but he was too wary to frighten the
game away while the chances of eventually securing it were
still uncertain. Ere Clara's heart had given more than one
startled leap, he went on —
" I have had a delightful evening here. It has been a weary
while since I could say with truth that anything gave me de¬
light ; but our chat has seemed to me like a return of former
pleasures. Will you think me very bold if I solicit permission
to come again when I find my own fireside insupportably dreary?
— when the clouds gather very closely about me ? "
Clara made an effort to appear natural and friendly. It did
require an effort, as she discovered, but she resolutely repelled
the temptation to yield to ridiculous shyness.
" Certainly not ! You have been for years a welcome vis¬
itor to our home. I see no reason why your coming should be
less acceptable now."
" Such frankness and cordial hospitality are worthy of your¬
self. But, while my visits will be to me like green spots and
wells of water in the desert of my every-dav life, I will deny
myself these blessings if my appearance here annoy or dis¬
please you in the least. It would be a sorry return for your
goodness were Ï to become a source of disquiet where I would,
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
333
if possible, coufer happiness. Yet I can imagine circumstances
that would bring about this unfortunate state of affairs."
Bewildered, excited, but not disagreeably affected by the
whirl of unaccustomed emotions, Clara repeated in unconscious
earnestness —
" You have always been welcome. You are still. I can
assure you that your coming will never be displeasing to any
of us."
She raised her eyes in saying this just in time to see the
smile that flashed from his eye to cheek and lip at receipt of
this permission — met a gaze — intent, respectful, eagerly
inquiring — wTas it also loving ?
Edgar Waitley walked home lightly, swinging his cane and
thinking over such happy thoughts, wrapped in prospective
reverie so cheering, that he astonished, quite shocked himself
by humming a few bars of "Love's Young Dream" — a dis¬
covery he did not make until the sight of his own house and
the dark windows, where the light never used to be extin¬
guished until his return, let him be out never so late, reminded
him of her who had, from that now forsaken chamber, passed
through the grim, mysterious gate dividing her life from his,
now and forever.
Was he then "forgetting" her? Was there sorrowful pre¬
science in the dying eyes whose depth of wistful meaning came
back to him so often ? Had the thought that this separation
was for all time grown more endurable of late? Was he rec«¿
onciled to the thought of leading and enjoying a life in which
even the memory of her was to have no place ? Did the birth
and growth of this new affection, which had shot forth such
vigorous roots and branches in an incredibly short time—«
which bade fair speedily to arrive at the fruition of a happy
and successful love — did this presuppose infidrlity to the
departed one ?
334
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
"Absurd?" He cliook off the icy hand that, had seemed 1q
clutch his heart, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and strode
on more vigorously than before. " I have succumbed to the
influence of morbid fancies until I have grown weakly nervous.
In that blessed home" — he looked up at the calm stars —
" where there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage, the
thought of what is transpiring in this sin-stained world — this
sorrowful, imperfect life — can cause her no pain. To believe
otherwise were to have faith in a vulgar, impious prejudice.
Her happiness is safe ! Even were she cognizant of my ac¬
tions, her first wish would be for my contentment and comfort.
It was her chief care while here."
Ile unlocked the front door, sighing, more from habit than
sadness. To do so had become a mechanical tribute to the
worth of his lost wife. The hall was cold and silent as the
grave. He glanced into the parlors in passing. They were
likewise dark and chill. In the library the gas was turned
down to a point of quivering flame, which an unlucky touch
of his benumbed fingers reduced to total darkness. The fire
in the grate was black and dead. In groping about for the
matches, which were not in their proper place, he bruised his
shins against a chair, and, stumbling forward, saved himself
from falling by catching at and upsetting a table. As it went
down, he felt the spatter of some liquid upon his hands, which,
after he succeeded in striking a light, proved to be ink. Books,
paper and carpet, had received their share of the same stream,
flowing from an overturned standish. Ashes bestrewed the
fender and rug ; there was not heat enough in the whole chim¬
ney to warm his hands.
" A pretty home for a man to find on a freezing night like
this ! This house is in perishing need of a mistress ! " he
growled, with a kind of savage satisfaction at this additional
excuse for altering Iiis condition — these "(rj efragable proofs
husbands and homes.
that any change must better it. " And a mistress it shall have
before I am six months — yes ! before I am four months older ! "
was Iiis concluding vow, as he went shiveringly up to his room.
"This sort of existence is slow suicide — nothing less ! "
Meanwhile, Clara had put aside the doll's cradle, and, sink¬
ing into a low chair before the fire, leaned her cheek upon her
hand, and seemed to explore the glowing caverns of burning
anthracite with all her might. It was futile to pretend to dis¬
guise the fact so palpably set before her — Mr. Waitley was
her lover ! — almost her declared suitor, and one who would not
submit to needless delays. She must forthwith habituate her¬
self to this novel and unexpected state of things, "or prepare to
resign* him as a friend -— perhaps as an acquaintance. It was
difficult to make up her mind to adopt the latter alternative.
She had known him so long and intimately ; esteemed him so
thoroughly; admired him unfeignedly. He deserved to be
made happy ; yet he had suffered intensely. A lonely stricken
man, he came to her for solace ; implored her to save him from
the abyss of hopeless melancholy ; declared that she, and she
only, had the power to chase away the brooding pestilential
fogs that were making an unwholesome waste of his best feel¬
ings and powers, and to bring back the sunshine. Hers was a
missionary spirit ; was not here a noble field for its exercise?
And then there were the children ; could she give them up to an
indifferent, probably an unkind stepmother ? She had come to
love them very clearly, and they to depend upon her for sympathy
and instruction. She had found this very pleasant, for she was
not superior to the natural yearning of the woman's heart for a
home of her own ; for the sweet, holy loves of husband ami
children. Coarse-minded men may sneer at, and " strong-
minded females " trample upon, this instinct, but it is a seed of
God's own planting, and it is indestructible until all else good
has perished in the sterile, Heaven-forsaken soil.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
If she who hesitates is lost, then was Clara Mercer verp
near the verge of the precipice when she closed her eyes in
slumber that night. She was a girl of true and conscientious
piety, and her last coherent thought was a prayer for the Di¬
vine guidance and blessing in and upon her decision of this
important question — her first waking reflection in the bright
morning of the New Year — "I enter to-day upon a new and
untried life. This year will bring to me strange and great
responsibilities. My Father! if henceforth there is to be
committed to my keeping the happiness of others, make Thou
me worthy of the trust ! "
It was inevitable that from musings such as these, from this
spirit of self-dedication to the promotion of others' good, there
should be infused into her daily life a softer, sweeter lustre,
touching every feature with beauty, enduing every action with
a charm »hitherto unperceived by those who knew and loved
her best. It was impossible that he, whose chief study was
now herself, should not be the first to see and understand this ;
it argued no undue vanity in him that he drew from it a blessed
augury for his hopes and desires.
His calls were now made after a style that ill-natured look¬
ers-on denominated " fast and furious ; " his gifts — bouquets,
music, books, etc. — were graciously accepted, and when he
was ready to make a bolder move, he considered calmly and
soberly that he had warrant for the step.
One evening — the loth of January — he drove up, in his
handsome new sleigh, to Mr. Mercer's door, and invited Clara
tc ride with him
Mrs. Mercer followed her daughter from the parlor when
she went to equip herself for the excursion.
" My clear, I do not. pretend to control your movements —
still less direct your affections—but you are aware, I suppose,
that in accepting Mr. Waitley's attentions you are taciily en¬
couraging whatever suit he may design to offer you ? "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
337
She paused, but there was no reply. Clara was seemingly
engrossed in the business of lacing her fur overshoes.
Mrs. Mercer went a little further.
" You must bear in mind that you are leaving open but one
path which you can pursue with honor to yourself and justice
to him."
Clara lifted herself smilingly.
" And have you any objection to my taking that one, mother ?
If so, now is the time to state it."
" None," replied the parent, taken aback by this direct man¬
ner of treating so^delicate a subject. "That is to say, none
except that which I should have expected you to be foremost
in mentioning. To speak more plainly, Mr. Waitley is a gen¬
tleman of high character, pleasing address, and ample means ;
one in whose principles we have all confidence ; a friend whom
we have loved and valued for years. If he were a bachelor,
we could desire for you no more happy lot than a life with
him. As it is, I wish that he had not been so precipitate ; that
he had suffered a longer time to elapse before seeking a second
wife. It will create a great deal of talk."
" I do not see why it should. He has a right to manage his
own affairs as he sees fit. He best knows his own needs."
" True, my love ; but you may recollect that you used
yourself to be very severe in your animadversions upon simi¬
lar conduct in others."
" Was I ? Then I acted very foolishly ; meddled with what
did not concern me, mother, and I am ashamed of it. As to
the matter before us, and the world's objections to it, Mr. Wait-
ley and I must get over censure and criticism as we best can
— must meet and brave it, if need be. Perhaps after all you
are wasting your solicitude, and I my courage. Your premises
may be erroneous."
In her heart she had no faith in this latter clause. She had
29
338
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
expected as surely the declaration to which she listened that
moonlight night as if she had reposed implicit confidence in
her mother's prophecies.
Waitley pleaded his cause well.
" Clara ! my home is desolate — my heart an empty nest,
from which all pleasant and dear loves have flown, and the
snows of winter have fallen heavily into it. Will you be the
light and comfort of that home ? Will you bring to that heart
the warmth and bloom and brightness of a second spring ? My
children are growing up neglected, uncultivated — motherless !
Will you be their salvation ? "
Clara was a tolerable studént of human nature, yet it did
not occur to her that this moving address was artfully contrived
to appeal to her compassion, a plea in the name of humanity,
rather than the outpouring of a manly devotion, imploring re¬
ciprocation as the dearest good earth had in its gift. It is to be
presumed that her obtuseness on this head is largely shared by
others of her sex, if we are to judge from the tenderness of
pity and the eagerness to console manifested by most women
who are thus approached by widowers. The sad and seeking
brotherhood invariably consider this lugubrious strain the most
effective they can employ.
"Your happiness and the well-being of your children are
very dear in my sight," commenced Clara, frankly, yet trem¬
blingly. " But, even could I divest myself of the conviction
of my incompetency —"
He could not allow her to hesitate one moment on that score
— he interrupted her to remark. He would be guarantee for
her eminent fitness for the station he entreated her to accept.
"You are scarcely an impartial judge," replied Clara, half
laughing. " But suppose we waive this point, I revertheless
hardly dare entertain your proposition at present. Would it
not be expedient for us to postpone its consideration foi a
time ?"
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
339
« Why ? "
He was determined that she should be definite. His accent
betrayed no suspicion of the real character of her reason for
the suggested delay. Remembering her favorite adage, that
the straight course was always the safest, she summoned cour
age" to say —
" Your bereavement is of such recent date — " there, brav
ery evaporated in an inarticulate murmur.
He kindly came to her relief.
" Is it, then, your opinion that love in the human heart
requires a certain specified and unvarying number of months
for legitimate growth and ripening ? Especially in a case like
the present, where two have known one another intimately for
years ; stu died each the other's disposition, habits, and tastes
in the most favorable circumstances that could be afforded for
such investigation ; found so much that mutually attracted and
interested them in one another— is a formal and strict atten¬
tion to prescribed times and seasons binding upon them ? If
so, by what code is this imposed? I find no doubt in my heart.
I know and feel that I have chosen wisely and well in all re¬
spects. If you require more time and opportunity for matur¬
ing an opinion as to my merits, far be it from me to refuse you
all, or anything that you ask ! Is this your argument for
delay?" *
It was a cunning snare, and Clara walked right into it —
planted her cautious feet directly upon the limed twig.
"Indeed I had no such meaning ! " she responded, in impru¬
dent haste. " What I would have said was this — are you
prepared to encounter the thousand-and-one ill-natured com¬
ments upon your conduct that will be rife when it is known to
a certainty that — that —"
Another break-down !
" That I have dared to take into my hands the management
340
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
of my personal affairs ? " Waitley coolly supplied an ending
for the incomplete sentence. " Surely, Clara, you and I are
too well acquainted with the proper value of the world's ver¬
dict to give it an uneasy thought, much less to let the fear of
it cause us to swerve a hair's breadth from what we conceive
to be the course of right—the road that leads to happiness!
I do not affect ignorance of the popularly-received notions with
regard to the measure which I am now contemplating ; but I
calmly assume my right to the possession of the best and truest
knowledge of my heart-needs and the means of satisfying them.'
"Just what I said to mother!" thought Clara. She said
aloud, " That seems reasonable, certainly — only, fault-finders
are seldom reasonable."
" Their cavils are entitled to the less respect on that account.
I have no fear of them. Their loudest outcry will be my want
of respect for the dead."
Clara started at the composure with which he brought out
this, to her, most delicate topic.
" And that will be the accusation which will wound most
deeply," she replied.
"Not at all! I point proudly to my Past, and defy the
most censorious to find one flaw in my treatment of the wife
whom I have lost. To her, I was faithful in thought, word
and deed, unto death ! There is no law, human or divine,
that forbids me to supply her place in my heart and home,
whenever, and by whomsoever I choose. I have no patience
with this empty, senseless babble about a £ decorous show of
respect for the departed.' It is arbitrary, preposterous, irra¬
tional, to say to all men who have been thus left lonely, —
men of different temperaments and outer circumstances —
4 Thus long shall you wear the badge of mourning ; thus long
walk the earth solitary, homeless, comfortless ; since Heaven
has smitten you to the ground, we—the wise lawgivers of
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
341
society — Mrs. Grandies all-—decree that you shall lie there,
biting the dust in agony, refusing to be comforted, until Ave
grant you leave to arise ! Eighteen or twelve months hence,
you may do that, with perfect propriety, which it would be
revolting to our refined sensibilities for you to mention now ! '
"No—-dearest Clara! his is the nobler nature that spurns
such mawkish and puerile conventionalisms ; that arises purified
and stronger, from the trial that was designed to cleanse and
elevate, and takes his place again in the ranks of the world's
workers ; thinking it neither sinful nor inexpedient to accept
such new duties, responsibilities and joys as the hand of Mercy
shall bestow, as the voice of Duty shall enjoin upon him ! "
He considered that he had argued with such exceeding per¬
tinence and force, that he was almost disposed to be vexed that
she still hung back. Convinced, she owned herself to be, yet
she remained irresolute. By the white moonbeams, lie could
discern her features upturned to the glittering heavens, —•
thoughtful, perplexed — more than perplexed — anxious. By
and by, he coaxed her to confide the trouble to him.
" It is weak and foolish, I know, and it may be wrong to
brood over the thought as I do," she said, in a timid undertone,
" but the question arises pertinaciously in my mind — what
would Anna have said, had she foreseen all this ? "
She feared lest she had shocked or displeased him, but he
met the question promptly — confidently.
" She loved us both. Could your appeal be made to her,
she would reply that her constant desire was, and ever would
be, for our highest happiness. If we find this in one another,
we, in one sense, accept it as a gift from lier hands. So far
from this action of mine signifying disrespect to her memory, I
pay her the greatest compliment in my power to offer. She
made my home so lovely, that I find it intolerable without the
reign of influences akin to those she exerted. In teaching true
29*
342
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
delight to be found in a union of hands, hearts and souls, she
unfitted me utterly for a return to a single state. Progress,
and not retrogression, is the law of the enlightened heart, as
well as the cultivated intellect."
With this choice bit of metaphysical cant, he stayed the dis
cussion for some moments. They rode on silently over the
sparkling snow-crust, the same that spread untrodden and level
above Anna's burial mound ; the fast beatings of their hearts
keeping time to the tintinnabulation of the sleigh-bells. Below
the cold, white garment of the earth was quiet, darkness, insen¬
sibility ; above — life, labor, love !
" Clara ! " A hand sought hers in firm, close clasp. " Shall
we not let the dead Past bury its dead ? "
After all-—was there not a touch of bitter and truthful sar¬
casm in Myra Jewett's story of the elderly gentleman's wonder¬
ing defence of his hasty marriage ; to wit, that the dear deceased
" could not be any deader."
They were married in May —- quietly and without any ill-
judged parade of festivity, yet the obstinate, " irrational " world
refusing to be converted from the error of its ways of thinking,
by the unanswerable arguments cited above, wagged its hun¬
dred tongues vociferously and venomously over the " indecent
haste," and " outrageous levity of conduct," and " total want of
feeling " displayed by the happy pair ; clamor, that made itself
heard in the sacred recesses of the Paradise regained, where
Mr. Waitley was forgetting former grief in present bliss.
" How can people say such cruel things ! " complained Clara
to Myra Jewett, one day, during the first quarter of the honey¬
moon. " You may not have heard that I went with Edgar,
last week, to see the monument he lias just had erected over
poor Anna's grave. It was a melancholy visit to us both, and
we never imagined that any one could be so unfeeling, so hard¬
hearted and unjust, as to ridicule our errand thither. Yet—<
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
343
would you believe It ? several persons have made themselves
very merry over it, and others pretend to discover great indel¬
icacy In his conduct, and gross hypocrisy in mine ! "
Myra endeavored vainly to look serious.
" Excuse me, Clara, but disinterested spectators will view
everything pertaining to a second marriage in an uncharitable
light. It is not until the case is brought home to one, that lie
or she can understand aright how these affairs are managed."
Myra was assuredly learning discretion. This was further
evidenced by her reticence with regard to another trifling cir¬
cumstance, that tried sorely the feelings and temper of the
bride. On the wedding-day, there had arrived among Clara's
bridal gifts, an anonymous package, which being opened by
herself, was found to contain a tiny box. Inside of this was a
slip of paper, bearing these significant words —
" Why be!widest thou the mote which is in thy brother's eye,
when, behold! a beam is in thine own eye0! "
Edgar said truly to the discomfited recipient of this nauseous
pill of truth, that the squib was beneath her notice, but it was
not soon forgotten by either of them. Only Myra guessed the
author of the unfair attack, and she kept her owe counsel.
She had chanced on a former occasion, to see a note written
by Mrs. Conrad Elliott, the lady whose marriage with a wid¬
ower had elicited Clara's spirited sentence of condemnation, as
recorded in the earlier portion of this history. This text was
in the same hand, despite a poor effort at disguise, and Myra
rightly interpreted it as a saucy and unkind fling at one whose
fault was the very common failing of both man and womankind
•— the non-agreement of theory and practice.
.Before Susie's new year's present was, by dint of unlucky
and accidental falls, injudicious ablutions, and well-meant, but
ruinous warmings before grates and above the kitchen-range
—-gathered to the vast, multitudinous generations that had
344
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
previously lived through the ephemeral existence appointed to
dolls, there was a new claimant for general favor in the house¬
hold ; what its wide-eyed sister called " a real live baby," in
contradistinction to her bloodless and inanimate nurslings ; a
pinlc, plump, piping bantling, to whom the parents, consistently
carrying out their design of rendering respect to the departed
mistress of the home, and associating her, in the eyes of the
world and their children, with the living wife and mother —
gave the name of " Anna Clara."
"For you know," said Freddy, confidentially to Myra, "this
isn't our very own mamma. Papa gave us this one because
the other one died ; and I guess if Cousin Clara — mamma I
mean — were to die, he wouldn't be very long in finding an¬
other. He's a jolly smart fellow — papa is ! "
Which observation, the amused Myra considered as a toler¬
ably fair setting forth of the parental doctrine — " Progress,
and not retrogression, is the law of hearts ! "
A HASTY SPEECH, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
CHAPTER I.
" I have Leen convinced for six years that we could never
he happy together, and this fresh outbreak only confirms me in
the opinion that the less we see of one another the happier we
shall be." And, having given utterance to this sentence with
the deliberate and emphatic manner of one who enunciates a
carefully weighed and important conviction, Mr. Roger Har¬
rison lighted his cigar and left the house, shutting the outer
O o ?
door with more vehemence than was altogether consistent with
his assumed calmness, while the wife sank stunned upon a low
seat, and buried her face in her hands.
It was a little spark which had kindled this formidable con¬
flagration of domestic strife, where such misadventures were,
happily, not of everyday occurrence. Mrs. Harrison had had
"a bad night" with her teething babe, and, coming down rather
late to breakfast, unrc freshed and neuralgic, found her lord in
a state of excessive irritation over two annoying contretemps ;
No. 1 being the theft of his morning paper from the front steps,
perpetrated by some mischievous boy, or penniless and news-
hungry passer-by ; and No. 2 the tardiness of the cook, there
being as yet no signs of breakfast beyond the cloth and empty
tea-service. He might have borne either of these trials singly,
for the paper would have beguiled the time left hanging on hia
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
hands by the cook's fault, or vice versa, the breakfast partially
consoled him for his compelled ignorance of the military "situ¬
ation." Combined, they were fairly exasperating, as ail mas¬
culine bipeds will confirm me in saying. Mrs. Harrison
received his anathemas of thief and servant, and, without
responding, hastened to the kitchen, admonished the delinquent
of trie lateness of the hour, and plunged her own fair hands
into the incomplete preparations for the repast. She beat up
the omelette, stirred the batter for the cakes, settled and poured
out the coffee ; then followed the dishes into the dining-room,
flushed and wearied, with sharp flashes of pain through her
head and face, that were not conducive to patient cheerfulness.
" I hope you gave that lazy-bones a good scolding ! " said
the master of the house, when they were seated.
" I told her that she was not punctual to-day, and that the
same thing must not occur again," said the wife, briefly. Like
O O 7 7 v
most other housewives, she had a theory of her own as to the
government of servants, and did not like to be interfered with,
even by her husband.
" Ilumph ! Your wonderful tenderness to yoilr girls is one
reason why they never, by any chance, mend a bad habit.
That Ann has breakfast half an hour behind time nine morn¬
ings out of ten. If you would let me give her one good blowing
up, I venture to say she would change her ways."
" Indeed, Roger, you go entirely too far ! Why do you use
such sweeping terms in speaking of a slight fault ? Ann is
only fifteen minutes late this morning, for the first time in a
fortnight, and I have no doubt there is some cause for it. The
fire is refractory occasionally, or some unavoidable accident
puts her back in her work. Then she is subject to violent
sick headaches, and may have one now. Let us judge chari¬
tably ! "
" Where the charming Ann or lovely Katy is concerned ! "
IIUSDAXDS AND HOMES
347
returned Mr. Harrison ironically. It is not natural for men
(or women) to take kindly to contradiction, particularly if the
facts are in favor of their opponent. '* The truth is, Jessie,
thai you dare not reprove either of the precious pair, for fear
of being left in the lurch at an inconvenient moment. Half —
yes, three-quarters of the women in the land are under the
thumb of their servants, and you are as very a coward as any
of Tern. I would not be so much at the mercy of a 1 sub ' for
ten thousand dollars ! "
" Roger ! you astonish me ! When everybody says that I
have the best girls in the city ! And you said, only yesterday,
that they were invaluable — so honest, faithful, and respect¬
ful ! You have praised my management of them a thousand
times ! "
" Don't, recollect it Î " said Mr. Harrison, stoutly, helping
himself to a second supply of the light, rich omelette.
The hot tears flowed up to his wife's eyes, but pride drove
them back. " At least," she commanded her voice to say, " I
have the common justice and common humanity to bear in
mind that they are fallible mortals like myself, and, therefore,
subject to err at times. I make it a rule never to condemn
them unless I am persuaded, after examination of the circum¬
stances, that the misdemeanor was wilful, or the consequence
of inexcusable negligence."
" I wish you would carry the same excellent principle into
practice in your intercourse with others—your husband, for
example. My sins are always of the unpardonable type, by
your showing."
Jessie hung her head, and was silent. She drank only a cup
of tea for her breakfast, and Roger finished his rapidiy after
the conversation ceased. The reader must not write down the
last-named participant in this lively skirmish as a cross-grained
brute. lie was, in the main, a kind, good-humored, and very
348
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
affectionate husband ; but his temper was, at times, somewhat
quick, and, being endowed by nature with an abundant flow of
language, his tongue was apt to outrun even what was dictated
by excited feeling.
He had left his watch in his dressing-room, and, going up to
get it, espied through the door of the adjacent nursery, Roger,
Junior, fresh and glowing from the bath, sitting, half-dressed,
upon his nurse's knee. The temptation was irresistible to
snatch up the laughing rogue, give him a toss or two in the air,
and half a dozen kisses. Then Miss Tilly, two years the boy's
senior, must have her speech of " papa ; " and when he finally
succeeded in extricating himself from the mesh of small arms
and legs woven coaxingly across his path, Mr. Harrison ran
down the stairs, his ill-temper all forgotton, himself smiling and
happy, quite ready to kiss his wife and be off to his store,
without once recollecting the disagreeable "tiff" with which
the day had begun. The whole affair was brought back, how¬
ever, when he opened the parlor door and saw Jessie standing
by the hearth, her head bowed on the mantel in an attitude of
pain or dejection. Resolving to go pleasantly through his
formula of leave-taking, he came up alongside of her, buttoned
up his greatcoat, and reached over her to take a cigar from the
case on the mantel. This movement failing to change her
position, he put the weed between his teeth, and said, in a style
that was a little too off-hand to be quite easy : —
" Any commands, Jess ? "
" No, I believe not," was the listless rejoinder.
Mr. Harrison bit off the end of his cigar, and spat it out
audibly. " What ails you now ? " he interrogated, temper
giving way.
" Nothing ! "
" I understand ! I shall have to pay penance for the next
four weeks, for a single thoughtless speech. I am growing
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
319
sick to death of these eternal squabbles, and their invariable
consequence — your sullen coldness. If you had the least
regard for your husband, or desire to retain his affection, you
would try and overcome this infernal" — I am ashamed to
write it, polished reader, but he did say it! — "this inferna]
habit of sulking upon the least provocation."
Jessie neither moved nor spoke. lier face was averted, or
the tears stealing slowly down her pale cheeks would have
explained, in part, why she did not attempt a reply to these
charges.
" But I shall get used to it by and by ! " continued Roger,
irritated still further by what he imagined was stubborn anger,
or intentional disrespect. " It produces less and less effect
upon me at each recurrence of these scenes —— unless it be that
my contempt is augmented as regard wanes. Have you noth¬
ing to say to me before I go ? — not even 1 Good-day ? ' "
Still no answer.
After a minute of impatient waiting, Mr. Harrison removed
his cigar from his lips, that he might speak with more digni¬
fied distinctness, and delivered his vexed spirit of the sentence
recorded at the head of this chapter, with what immediate out¬
ward effect we have seen.
Jessie did not weep when he was gone ; the shock had stayed
the tears ; but there was a terrible physical lieart-ache, as if a
knife had been buried to the hilt there, and a sense of suffoca¬
tion in her throat which tears would have relieved. Six years !
and she had been married to him only six and a half! lie
Lad, then, ceased to hope for happiness with her within a few
months after she gave herself to him for life ! When Baby
Jessie was born, and the proud father insisted upon calling her
for her mother, " the dearest, sweetest pet name in the lan«
guage ! " he had said, kissing his wife, as her feeble head rested
upon his bosom, and she wondered if woman wrere ever so happy
30
mo
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
and blessed before ; when, after a week of fever and wild wan«
de rings of mind, she heard, as in a trance, the physician say.
" She knows you, Mr. Harrison ! I think all will be well
yet ! " felt the strain of Roger's enclasping arm and his tears
falling fast upon her brow; and, as her eyes cleared, looking
into the dear face, saw it haggard with watching and woe —
' oo o
even then it would have been a blessing to him had she never
lived through the fearful struggle that gave his first-born to
his embrace, or, surviving that, had never awakened, in this
life, from that dark fever-dream !
Six years ! Within that time, Baby Jessie's trial steps had
been checked at the little swell of green turf, watered so often
since by the tears of both parents ; her sweet prattle hushed
forever, save in the sad echoes that must always resound in the
one empty chamber of the mother's heart. How kind he was
in those dreary days of desolation ! how watchful of her every
look and motion ; how fond was his reassurance that this be¬
reavement had drawn his heart nearer to hers — made the sur¬
viving Jessie tenfold dearer to him ! Yet, all the while, he
was " convinced" that she could never bring aught but sorrow
O O
to him ; that his days of happiness were at an end ; that they
would be better off asunder ! It would have been well for both
of them had she laid down in the grave with Baby, and let
them heap the cruel clods of separation upon her, too ! When
Tilly, and afterwards Roger came, their father said that he had
no more to ask of Heaven. Plow beautifully and feelingly he
had spoken, and, in his absence, written to her, of the "dear
love-nest, with its birdlings, towards which his heart was con¬
tinually turning, with longings unutterable and joyful hope ! "
lie meant it all in kindness, but he had deceived her. Or —
and at the thought a great, tearless sob leaped from her lips —
it may have been the relief he felt in being rid of her presence
that lent buoyancy to thought and vigor to language. Not a
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
351
very philosophical hypothesis this, but she was in no mood for
coherent reasoning.
Six years ! During that time had come that terrible crisis
in the financial world, when, day after day, he labored to avert
disaster from his new and growing business, and often lay awake
through the whole night, she keeping vigil with him, perplex¬
ing his brain with ways and means for piloting his barque
through the storm. How hard and long she argued and besought
to induce him to use her little fortune — the legacy of a few
thousands secured to her at his request ! And when he at last
yielded, and accepted the sum " as a loan," so he would have
it, and she did not care, so long as he took it, she fairly wept
for joy at the idea of helping him. One bright, glorious, ever-
to-be-remembered day, the very whitest in all her calendar, he
came home, and told her that he was safe, that the worst was
over, and he in comparatively smooth seas again. Kissing her
hand, over and over, he had said, his eyes glistening and lips
quivering with grateful emotion — "Dearest, best of wives!
my angel of deliverance ! I was drowning, and these little
fingers saved me ! "
She had tried to be a good wife. She counted nothing a
hardship that she could do or suffer for his sake. She had taken
great pride and pleasure in making his home pleasant and
beautiful, in preparing his favorite dishes, wearing the dresses
he liked, in making herself look pretty in his eyes. She cared
nothing for the applause of the world ; her home was lier sphere,
and he was her master. But all her pains and hopes had been
thrown away. He had said plainly in an angry, and therefore
a truthful moment (O Jessie ! what logic ! ) that she was care¬
less of his comfort, his happiness, and his affection ; that he had
an ill-kept house and a sulky wife, that his only remaining hope
of obtaining a tolerable share of peace and ease lay in shunning
her society as much as possible ! She had not deserved this!
352
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Her spirit rose indignantly at the injustice of the sentence.
She did not deny that she had temper ; but so had Roger, and
in their little differences of opinion he as often spoke with
undue heat as did she—heat she had hitherto forgiven and
forgotten, as she supposed he had her injudicious or peevish
utterances. But this could never be forgotten — never ! Each
word was a drawn sword, and the stabs must bleed while life
and reason continued. She could never feel or act towards
him again as she had done.
Then arose a startling question. Now that the veil of con¬
cealment was rent, and she knew in what position she stood
before him, could she — ought she to continue to eat of his
bread and share his roof? She, the despised claimant upon his
charity ? While she believed that she contributed to his well-
fare and delight, it was sweet to linger near him, and depend¬
ence was a thing un thought of—-but one scathing sentence
had changed everything. She would leave him ! would no
longer offend his sight, would disappear from his existence
like a cloud that left no trace behind. True, she had no means
of subsistence, she had given him her little all of worldly
wealth, but she could work for her daily bread. Better beg it
from door to door than to accept it from him ! She was grow¬
ing momentarily more bitter. After all, what right had he to
assume such lordly airs ? to hector and criticize lier as he had
said she " dared " not her servants ? as she would scorn to
speak to the lowest menial ! He had not »tooped in marrying
her. She was young, and beloved, and courted when he first
knew her ; his social equal in all respects ; as well born, and
bred, and educated as himself, and, in point of fortune, his
superior. Then he sued for her favor as for the choicest gift
in the universe. Now, when she was his, bound to him for
life, completely in his power, with no other protector near, he
spurned and insulted her ! It was unmanly, base, inhuman Î
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
353
And she would be the degraded wretch he chose to consider
her if she submitted tamely to such usage.
Ah, Jessie ! you were never about worse work than while
you cowered in that corner, making out your strong case against
him you had promised voluntarily to serve and honor !
Meanwhile, the nurse had finished Roger's toilet, and, after
waiting vainly for her mistress to relieve guard in the nursery,
ventured down to the parlor, leading Tilly, and carrying the
boy in her arms. She stopped short at sight of Mrs. Harrison's
bowed figure.
" Mamma ! " called the children, in concert.
She raised her face, and its look of wearied suffering alarmed
the maid.
" Is it your head that's bad, ma'am ? " she asked, in affec¬
tionate respect that spoke well for lier and her mistress.
"Yes, Katy. You are waiting for your breakfast, are you
not ? Leave, the baby with me."
" I'm thinking, ma'am," pursued the girl, " that you are not
able to be troubled with him ; and maybe I'd better take him
down to get his breakfast with his sister. He'll be not the
least bother in the world to me."
" Oh no ! You may put him down here upon the floor. I
will look after him."
Visibly reluctant to obey, the nurse set the toddler upon the
carpet, and withdrew with Tilly, enjoining the lusty year-old
not to " distress his poor mamma's head, but to be a little
lamb."
Between creeping and walking, the boy gained his mother's
knee, and, glancing merrily up into the sad eyes, repeated the
first word he had ever learned, " Mamma Î "
" God help me ! " ejaculated the unhappy woman, catching
him up, and covering his face and neck with passionate kisses.
" Í forgot my children. I must be nearly crazy Î "
30»
854
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
She must sta}r with them ; there was no escape from that
obligation, nor had she the strength to leave them. For their
sakes she would endure, as best she could, what she had wrought
herself up to view as a hateful thraldom. " But, at any rate,"
she thought, gloomily, " there need be no further pretence of
affection." Such demonstrations from her would be a shallow
mockery, difficult and odious of performance, and easily pene
trated by her husband. Since she must remain his slave, she
would perform every jot and tittle of the service the bond
required her to show her owner ; but human law had no juris
diction over the heart.
Ere she arose from her seat she had marked out her course,
matured a settled and consistent plan of action ; without a tear
had sternly pulled down Love from the throne where he had
ruled as dictator for so many peaceful, golden years, and in
stalled Duty, grim, rigid, and joyless, in his stead.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
355
CHAPTER II.
UNec>\*r7i>us of the revolution going on in his home, in
b issful ignorance of the important change in the ministry of
the heart whose loyalty to himself he had had abundant
means of proving, Mr. Harrison went tltrough his day's work
with his accustomed energy and ability ; joked with his part¬
ners and customers, directed his clerks with the good humor
that made him their most popular employer, ate a comfortable
lunch at the coffee-house, with a keen appetite, taking this
opportunity to read a copy of the paper feloniously abstracted
from his threshold that morning ; in short, behaved as little like
a man with a weight upon his mind and conscience as it is pos¬
sible to imagine. Nor was he oppressed by any such burden.
After the fashion of angry people, he had said what he never
thought or meant ; used language he would have taken his
oath, the next hour, had never passed his lips.
Never dreaming, therefore, that his Jessie had spent a whole
forenoon in branding the, to her, dreadful words upon her
memory with the red-hot iron of anguished repetition, he set
his face homewards in the evening, at peace with himself and
the world, and thinking pleasedly of the meeting with wife and
children. He was disappointed that Jessie was not in the hall
to greet him, as was her habit, so soon as she heard his key
turn in the lock, and bounded up stairs with a dawning appre¬
hension of sickness or other calamity. Roger, Jr., was about
in the same condition as when his papa had parted from him in
356
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
the morning, with the difference in the circumstances that the
process of ¿¿«dressing was now going on, and the blue eyes
were foggy with sleepiness. Tilly ran to her parent with a
•mouth pursed up for a kiss, and her he questioned as to his
wife's whereabouts.
" What has become of mamm«, my daughter ? "
" She is in the parlor with Miss Jordan. I wish she'd go away."
" Amen ! " responded Roger, inwardly.
Jessie's non-appearance was thus accounted for, and he tried
not to remember that on many similar occasions she had inge¬
niously excused herself for an instant, slipped out into the hall
long enough to give him his welcome kiss, and then returned,
with a demure countenance, to her unsuspecting guest. Mr.
Harrison betook himself to the sitting-room, and beguiled the
half-hour that yet remained before dinner-time by the evening
paper, with one ear on the alert for sounds of the visitor's de¬
parture. To his surprise, the door leading into the parlor was
presently thrown open, and Jessie announced, formally, " Dinner
is ready, Roger," while behind her towered the tall, spare
figure of Miss Jordan, a voluble spinster, whom he, in common
with the rest of her acquaintances, professed to respect very
sincerely, but for whose society he entertained no remarkable
predilection. Too gentlemanly and hospitable to betray his
wish that she had chosen to dine elsewhere on this particular
evening, he advanced and paid his respects ; then, as in duty
bound, gave her his arm to the dining-room, Jessie following
with Tilly. Roger had not known that the scene of the morn¬
ing had left any unpleasant impression, any symptom of self-
reproach upon his mind, until he was advised of the fact by
his chagrin that Miss Jordan's presence prevented him from
sealing a tacit peace upon his wife's ,lips. He would not have
raked open the ashes of forgetfulness that already covered the
lately hct coals of strife. To renew the subject might re-
HUSBANDS AND HOHES.
357
awaken passion, but he did long to say, "Forgive rae, little
wife ! " and meet her beaming: look of love and trust in return,
That was all, but this was denied him, just yet.
The meal was not a silent one. Miss Jordan bore the chief
part in this, as in most conversations in which she participated.
Roger replied animatedly, and with unfailing good-nature,
while Jessie was neither grave nor taciturn. Nevertheless,
her husband missed something. The " infernal " sulks were
not in possession, for her manner was cheerful and her smiles
frequent ; but her eye met his precisely as it did Miss Jor¬
dan's ; her tone was pleasantly polite, but his ear ached for
the undercurrent of feeling he had loved to detect in her most
commonplace address to him at other times, and once or twice,
when he anxiously sought to attract her notice, he failed un¬
accountably. When they returned to the parlor, he made a
bolder move. Miss Jordan never dissembled her contemptu¬
ous amusement at sight of what she called " sentimental foolery "
between married people ; but Roger was growing strangely
covetous of some one of the many tokens of sympathy and
affection he was used to have lavished upon him. Under pre¬
text of setting a chair for his wife, he contrived to lay hold of
her hand, and press it warmly.
" How have you been to-day, dear ? "
The cool fingers slipped from his without answering his
grasp. " About as usual, thank you ! "
" My dear Mrs. Harrison ! is it lawful to practise even an
affectionate deceit ? " exclaimed Miss Jordan. " She has been
martyrized all day, my dear sir, by one of her excruciating
headaches. She is the greatest sufferer I know." And she
ran on with a long dissertation upon neuralgic affections and
the divers remedies prescribed for them, to all of which Jessie
seemed to pay polite attention, and not two sentences of which
were heard by Roger.
358
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
" How long has your head ached ? " he seized the fira jp<
portunity of asking.
" 1 arose with it this morning. It is not worth mentioning."
" Not by you, perhaps," interrupted Miss Jordan. " I often
say that it is marvellous to see how heroically you endure pain.
I do not understand how you keep about as you do. For my
part, when I have a turn of headache, there is nothing for it
but to go to bed, and exclude every ray of light, and lie per¬
fectly still, taking nux vomica every hour, and with a bottle of
aromatic vinegar by me until the violence of the seizure lias
abated."
" My wife is a wonderful woman, Miss Jordan ! " returned
Roger.
He had not moved from Jessie's side, and now passed his
hand caressingly over her glossy hair. Not twenty-four hours'
ago the words and action would have sent a rush of gladness
to her heart, a flash of affectionate delight to her eyes. She
remained impassive now as an insensate block of stone ; her
heart lay still, dull, and hard within her bosom.
" He thinks to cheat me into forgiveness by flattering and
fond phrases," she thought. " He dreads a scene — the fur¬
ther exhibition of my sulky temper. He need not."
Roger grumbled secretly at the necessity that made him
Miss Jordan's escort home ; not at the long walk of eight or
ten blocks, but at the increased delay of a private and what he
was sure would be a satisfactory interview with his wife.
There was a lover-like impatience in his quick tread on his
return, in the joyous run up the front steps, the hasty opening
of the door, and the eager expectancy of his look as he turned
into the parlor. The gas was lowered, and the room quite
still. Perhaps Jessie had lain down upon the sofa, as she was
not well. She never retired until he came in. He raised the
jet of flame very cautiously, not to dazzle hei eyes. There
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
o-59
was no one in either front or back room, so he sat down and
waited for five minutes. Then a footstep in the hall made his
heart leap. It was Katy.
" Mrs. Harrison told me to ask you to excuse her for not
sitting up for you, sir. Her head ached, and she has gone to
bed."
" Very well, Katy."
" And I was to ask if you wished for anything, if you please,
sir?"
" Nothing. You can go." He sighed heavily, extinguished
the lights, locked the doors, and went up stairs on tip-toe.
" Jessie, darling ! " he said, softly, entering their chamber.
There was no sound except the regular breathing of the
supposed sleeper. His heart ached emptily ; he would have
given much for a word, a look, a single kiss, but he forbore to
disturb her. In the uneasy cogitations that kept him awake
for more than two hours he tried to persuade himself that he
had acted ridiculously in attaching so much importance to the
somewhat unusual demeanor of a half sick woman. He ought
to have more confidence in her good sense and affection than
to suspect her of cherishing any spiteful or unkind feelings
towards him, still less of acting a part to punish him for the
thoughtless heat into which he had been betrayed by that
rascally newspaper thief and laggard of a cook. She was the
best little wife in Christendom, and she knew him too well to
minsl his few cross words ; knew that his wrath was the most
evanescent and harmless of squibs, and always atoned for by
redoubled kindness after the trifling explosion was over. But
he would introduce the subject early in the morning. Jessie
could conceal nothing from him, and if lie discovered that she
had been so absurdly sensitive as to remember their altercation,
h: would declare his innocence of all intent to wound her, and
set everything straight.
360
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
When be awoke on the morrow, it was bright day, and Jes¬
sie had disappeared. He consulted his watch, and found that
it was just her usual hour of rising. What could have called
her forth so early ? He dressed in solitude, and more rapidly
than he had done for many months. The vague oppression of
last night was upon him still, and he longed to have it dissi¬
pated by a candid explanation and mutual understanding.
When he descended to the parlor, the Times lay spread open
conspicuously upon the centre-table, but there was no wife
visible. The breakfast-bell tinkled punctually to the appoitned
minute, and Roger, obeying the call, beheld Jessie, in her neat
breakfast-dress and cap, already seated at the table, supported
on the right hand by Tilly, who seldom left her bed in season
to take this meal with her parents. Her father did not exactly
surmise that this was a ruse of the mother's to escape a tete-a-
tete with himself, but he was sorry to see the child there.
She was a bright little chatter-box, and an unsafe listener to
confidential talks.
" You stole a march upon me," said he, cheerily.
" Good morning," answered Jessie, with a faint, civil smile.
And she commenced setting out the cups and saucers.
Roger slipped into his chair. He had meant to kiss her,
but now that he was face to face with her it was not the simple
and easy thing he had thought it would be. He was intensely
uncomfortable, felt disagreeably awkward — why, lie could not
have told for his life, only the personage at the head of the
board was such a graven image of propriety that he dared not
take liberties with her. Pshaw! the idea of a man's being
awed by his own wife Î
" How is the head ? " he said, sharpening the carver on the
steal very briskly and needlessly, preparatory to cutting the
juicy, flavorous steak, which was his favorite breakfast dish.
Jessie always ordered " porter-house," and cooked it as no one
else could— so thought her husband.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
3G1
" It does not ache at all, thank you ! Shall I give you tea,
or coffee, this morning? "
" Coffee, if you please. I am glad that you are feeling bet¬
ter."
" Is there any news from the seat of war ? " inquired Jessie,
in the same ladylike but distant manner.
Roger replied by reading several items, which furnished food
for talk until they arose from the table. Mr. Harrison had no
room to complain of the meal, which was excellently cooked
and served, or of the conversational part of the entertainment;
yet he owned, in inward discontent, that he would have been
more at his ease had breakfast been late and uneatable, and
his wife sullen. Then he could have spoken out strongly and
to the point ; now, he had no excuse for unburdening his
mind.
He tarried in the front hall, after donning his hat and over¬
coat, until Jessie appeared, holding Tilly in her arms. The
child had struck her head against a corner of the kitchen table,
and the mother was comforting her with tender words and
kisses upon the wounded part, the weeping infant clinging to
her neck the while. This display of maternal feeling, so like
Jessie's old, natural self, emboldened Roger, while it excited a
momentary jealousy.
" Don't give her all, mamma," he said, meeting them. " I
have not had a kiss since the day before yesterday."
She had believed that he was on his way down town, until
he spoke, and the instant alteration of face, voice, and deport¬
ment went like an ice-bolt to his heart. She put Tilly down,
gave her husband her hand, and offered her mouth for fis
hearty kiss, with a sort of cold ceremony that made the salute
a miserable farce. He tried to catch her eye; but if she
observed his glance of reproachful tenderness, she paid it no
heed.
31
362
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
u Tilly,'" she said, formally, "kiss your papa good-by."
The child was petted and condoled with, the father promising
to bring her a package of candies as medicine for the bruise.
" And what may I have the pleasure of getting for mamma ? "
ike added, pleadingly.
" You are very kind, but I will not trouble you to-day."
They parted — he to bear all through the day the pained
consciousness of grieved and despised affection ; she to stifle
the strivings of better and softer emotions in her chilled heart,
and devise new schemes for serving duty and murdering love.
That evening Roger brought home a book of magnificent pho¬
tographs, large and splendidly executed sun copies of celebrated
pictures. He had heard Jessie speak of having seen a few speci¬
mens of these in a print-shop, some days before, and her enthu¬
siastic description had tempted him to make the purchase. He
would try hard to rekindle one spark of her native fire in coun¬
tenance or speech. He adored, while he sometimes lost patience
with the impetuous, warm-hearted wife, who loved him well
and served him faithfully, in spite of a foible or two that
proved her womanhood. He -would not have exchanged her
for Venus or Minerva ; still less did he relish the transmogri¬
fication into the polished, passionless damé who had presided
over his household last night and this morning.
Jessie was in the parlor, dressed handsomely in a robe he
had selected and presented to her, not long since ; her hair was
becomingly arranged ; the room was orderly and bright, as he
liked to see it ; his arm-chair set forward, with dressing-gown
and slippers awaiting his use. The most loving spouse could
not have consulted his taste with more success. One glance
took in all this ; then, his whole attention was given to her who
had contrived these accessories to his comfort. She received
him — that is the word for the act, for there was no show of
meeting him half way ; no full-hearted greeting ; she received
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
363
him, then, standing by the seat from which she had risen at his
entrance, with about as much empressement of welcome as she
would have showed to the acquaintance of a week, whom she
felt constrained to treat politely. True, she allowed him to
hiss her ; to stand with his arm about her, as he presented the
volume and looked at a few of the finest plates with her. She
thanked him, moreover, in graceful terms, for his kindness in
recollecting her expressed admiration for the book, and the
pains he had taken to procure it, but there was no warmth or
vivacity iñ voice or behavior. Words, intonations, gestures,
were self-possessed, measured, and he muttered to himself, on
his way to the dressing-room, " Infernally and insufferably
freezing ! "
He was too prone to the use of strong expressions, but ho
had a strong, warm heart, and the utter failure of his peace-
offering to alter his wife's bearing, cut him to the quick. He
was a clumsy manœuvrer, and this little device exhausted his
tactics in that direction. He would not stand it ! he vowed
over the wash-stand, splashing the water furiously over his
face and rubbing his hands very hard with the crash towel —
no 1 not an hour longer ! Ile would break the ice at a blow ;
if gentler measures failed, " get up a row, a grand blow-out ; a
regular nor'wester ! anything but this Arctic calm ! This be¬
ing kept at arms' length by a woman with whom one has lived
for almost seven years, is a game that won't work ! "
He paid his nightly visit to the nursery, took little Roger
from the crib and strained him to his heart so tightly that a
sigh, very like a sob, escaped from his manly chest ; then laid
him down with a final kiss, and quickly, as if he feared his
courage would forsake him, descended to the parlor. Jessie
was still engrossed by the photographs.
"This isa fine copy of Ary Schœffer's Christus Consola
tor," she said, in her even accents.
£64
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Instead of replying, Roger laid a heavy hand on her shoul¬
der. lier eyes turned, in surprise, to the agitated face above
her.
" Jessie ! why do you persist in treating me in this cruelly
unkind manner ? You know I love you ; that I live but in
your smile ; that this sort of thing is killing me ! What have
I said or done to merit it at your hands ? "
A flush she could not prevent swept over her forehead, but
not a feature chançred.
O
" I was not aware that I was cruel or unkind. If I have
offended you in any manner, I beg your pardon. The fault
was not intentional."
" Do you pretend to say that you do not know how different
your behavior to me since yesterday morning, has been from
your uniform demeanor during the whole six or seven years of
our married life ? "
Unwittingly, he had hit upon the touchword most likely to
steel her against all overtures of peace.
" I can only repeat what I said just now," she rejoined, yet
more coolly. " I have not designed to offend you. If I have
failed in my endeavors to please you, I ask your forgiveness,
and will do what I can to expiate for my wrong doing."
" And this Is your answer ? the one by which I am to abide? "
Roger's Fps were white and rigid, and his voice shook in
putting ihi query.
" I have no other to make. If it does not please you, I may
regret it, but cannot amend it."
" And you are content that we should live on for a year —
■— for ten — twenty years — until death part us — as we have
done for the last forty-eight hours ? I am to understand that
this is your deliberate choice ? "
There was a dreary composure, a mournful resignation in
Jessie's eyes and tone, as of one who gazes down a weary.
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
365
darksome vista, stretching away indefinitely into the gloom of
an unknown to-come.
" I do not see that it can ever be otherwise "
"Be it so, then ! "
Roger wheeled away and walked the floor, gnawing his lower
lip in pain or anger.
" Dinner is ready. Will you go into the dining-room ? "
said Jessie, rising.
"Wait one moment! " He came up close to her, and took
her hands. " I charge you to remember, if our future life is
as wretched as our past has been happy, that it is all your
work. I wash my hands of all complicity in the sin — for
guilt it is, whether you believe it or not. I suppose that your
ever-too-ready sensitiveness has taken offence at a few hasty
words which I uttered yesterday morning, under circumstances
of great provocation. I do not recollect my exact language on
that occasion, but whatever it was, I retract nothing, since I
have seen the unholy and unfeminine spirit of retaliation you
have exhibited. I have made my last appeal to your affection
and sense of right. Hereafter, I accept your judgment of your
husband as the correct one, and " — with a sardonic smile — "I
shall try to prove to you and to myself the truth of your con-
elusions."
For a moment Jessie trembled at the demon of wrath she
had aroused ; for one instant her heart awoke from its lethargy
and gave a wild spring to arrest the decree that doomed it to
perpetual isolation ; for one second her deathly pallor and
shaking frame touched her judge with pity. Then she mastered
forebodings and womanly weakness.
" Very well! And, since we now understand each other, I
think you will agree with me in thinking that the recurrence
of these scenes can do no good and may do much harm to the
children, besides exciting the observation of the servants and
3G6
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
oilier lookers-on. My desire is to live peaceably, and my aim
shall still be to avoid strife and to do my duty to you in all
respects. If I cannot make you happy — and this I have
ceased to expect — there is the more reason why, since we
must continue to live together, I should redouble my efforts to
promote your outward comfort."
" You need not continue to live with me unless you choose."
Hoger was no match for his wife in stolid composure. " I put
no force upon your inclinations."
" I must remain, unless you forbid it," rejoined Jessie, stead¬
ily. "We both owe a duty to our children which we cannot
shirk." Pausing for a moment, and getting no answer, she
added : " Shall we go in to dinner, now ? "
" I want none ! " he said, angrily. " You would take as little
comfort in my society as I should in yours, as matters now
stand. Since there is no peace to be had within doors, I will
seek it elsewhere. This is one of the first fruits of your beau¬
tiful new system." He quitted the room, and, an instant later,
she heard the clang of the front door.
If the evil part of his nature were rampant, hers had not
remained quiescent. A red spot burned on either cheek, her
eyes were full of scornful fire.
"And this is a man ! " she said, between her set teeth. "A
great, glorious, lord of creation Î ' in understanding how infinite !
in comprehension how like a god ! ' Truly there is but a step
from the sublime to the ridiculous, for the veriest child might
be ashamed of such a display of unreasoning passion. The
struggle has come ! it is over, and I have not forgotten my
self-respect. My task is the easier for it, for I did respect him
a little before ! "
" Mamma ! " cried Tilly, running in, " Ann says dinner is all
spoiling."
With such contempt for the child's father in her heart, she
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
3G7
could smooth her face with a smile, and stoop to kiss the rosy
mouth.
"Tvre will eat it together, dear. Papa will not be home
until late."
Pride and temper kept her up well for the next hour or two.
But, when Tilly had gone to bed, and the orders for breakfast
were issued, she seated herself with her sewing under the drop-
li'dit, aiid the household settled into a stillness that was abso-
O 7
lutely appalling to her strained nerves and excited fancy. She
could not divest herself of the impression that there had been
a death under her roof. The sight of Roger's empty chair, the
useless parade of gown and slippers, were simply insupportable ;
so, she arose and wheeled the one back out of the range of
vision and laid the other aside in the library.
" Now, I shall be more comfortable ! " she murmured, resum¬
ing her chair and needle. " There is no show of expectation
which I do not feel. If he prefers passing his evenings abroad,
I shall not pine in my loneliness. Since we are to walk in
divided paths, we had best begin at once."
Yet the society of her own reflections was less tolerable than
she had anticipated. A great chasm had suddenly yawned,
deep and dark, in her life. A few hours had reversed the as¬
pect of the whole world to her ; had transformed her husband
and herself, and it was not the work of a day to become used
to the revolution. Do what she would, she was vexed to find
her thoughts obstinately straying back into the forbidder paths
of the olden time-—and shuddering, as the will urged her for¬
ward, to contemplate what lay before her. She strove to pon¬
der upon her children's destinies ; to forget the wife in the
mother ; to hope for the period when their grateful devotion
should compensate to her for the ruthless destruction of he?
dream of wedded bliss. Other wives had undeigone a similar
disenchantment and grown stronger, wiser, better, under the
868
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
ordeal ; had achieved great things for their families, their sex,
and their kind. Most of the gifted women of the earth had
been unfortunate in their married lives ; had resisted the at¬
tempts of their legal masters to hold them, body and soul, in
abject servitude ; for men were the same in every age and
land, and the spirit that would not crouch in fawning submis«
sion to their caprices of temper and will, must be broken.
Alas, poor little Jessie ! heroic martyr as she imagined her¬
self to be, was not a gifted woman ! She had no resources of
art, or science, or literature in which she could forget her woes ;
no fervor of inspiration strong enough to lift her out of herself
and everyday life. She was formed for the home-circle. Her
very accomplishments were of such kind and extent as en¬
livened a domestic party, but which would never gain for her
éclat abroad. She had not minded passing an evening alone,
now and then, when some imperative engagement called Roger
away from her. The time used to slip by easily and happily
with her needle work, or a new book, or her music. She did
not know how much the flight of the hours was assisted by the
thought of the loved one's return ; the knowledge that, wher¬
ever he was, and however he might be occupied, he remem¬
bered her and desired to be at her side. She might resolve to
face the prospect of spending every evening as she was doing
this, but there was no use in disguising the fact that she was
horribly ennuyéd by eight o'clock. Even Miss Jordan would
have been a relief. The void left in the heart that has once
loved, by the removal of its idol, is rarely a silent desolation.
It is oftener filled with vain cryings after the forever lost, per¬
haps oftenest with yearnings for some new support for the
bleeding tendrils torn from their first clinging-place. Msftiy u
story of shame and sorrow has had its key in this natural law
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
3G9
CHAPTER HI.
" Heigh-ho ! "
The audible yawn was checked midway by a ring at the
door. Jessie brightened up; peeped into the mirror to assure
herself that there were no tell-tale lines in her brow or about
her mouth, and that her toilette was in good order, and turned
to greet her visitor. It was Willie Dunbar, a frequent and
always a welcome guest, he having been Roger's groomsman
and best friend, and an early beau, a boy-lover of Jessie's.
He was a fine looking young fellow of thirty, or thereabouts,
intelligent and gentlemanly, and, rumor said, a confirmed bach¬
elor. Jessie had the reputation of having, by her rejection of
his youthful suit, doomed him to celibacy, an accusation which
she laughed to scorn. Of course, she could not deny that
Willie had loved her, and that he had confessed his attachment,
but that was ages ago, and he had forgotten all about it, or
only remembered it as a silly fancy. At all events, it was
certain that he liad sincerely forgiven her, while he remained
her fast friend and admirer.
" Alone ? " he said, interrogatively, as they shook hands.
" Where is Roger ? "
" That is more than I can tell ! " she rejoined, with well-
counterfeited gayety. " But he will be back shortly. Take a
seat ; I am obliged to you for coming in and putting my blues
to flight."
" Blues ! " with an involuntary, searching look ; "that is a
novel malady for you. What has produced it ? "
370
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
Jessie was provoked to feel herself reddening; at the sirnnle
A o l
query.
" Did you think that you enjoyed a monopoly of the article,
' low spirits,'" she parried his question. "Wait until you
have the neuralgia all night and all day, and Miss Jordan to
stay all the afternoon and evening with you, condoling and
prescribing, and then see if you do not suffer from nervous
reaction for a week afterwards."
Willie laughed, and shrugged his shoulders.
" What a combination of miseries ! I am content to believe
what you say of the effect of the visitation, without experi¬
menting for myself. Ah ! "— catching sight of the volume oí
photographs — " there is something new and handsome ! "
Once, Jessie would have delighted in talking of her hus¬
band's kind generosity ; but she made no mention of the do¬
nor, while they examined the pictures and discussed their
merits. She was very glad Willie had come in. It was a
pleasant interruption to the sombre monotony of the evening.
He was charming company, and liked her, she knew, as well
as he did his sisters. She had never seen him to more advan¬
tage than as he appeared in this interview. She had been so
misunderstood and underrated, and insulted, of late, that it was
like healing salve to her wounded selfdove to note his respect¬
ful attention to what she said, and hear the occasional sentence
of kindly appreciation or regard that dropped from him in the
course of their chat. She was only a woman, and mere
women are weak enough to crave and to value such tokens
of affectionate interest in themselves and their petty affairs.
By and by Willie asked her to go te the piano. He had al¬
ways admired her voice and her execution, and she esteemed
it a positive pleasure to oblige him. lie played passably on
the flute — not so well as did Roger, but she brought out her
husband's fine, silver-keyed instrument, which no one ever
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
371
handled besides himself, since he bought it — and insisted upon
Willie's accompanying her. There was a wicked gratification
in thus casting down under foot all the sentimental associations
she had, hitherto, delighted to keep sacred. She was amazed
that she remained unmoved by the familiar songs she had prac¬
tised so often with Roger, whose passionate fondness for music
had been her incentive in improving herself in vocalization
and the use of the piano-forte. She was growing callous —
she congratulated herself, and under the stimulus of this un¬
worthy triumph, she played more brilliantly, talked gavly, and
sang, as Willie told her with truth — "exquisitely."
" I wish you would bring your flute, the next time you come,
and let that be soon," she said, engagingly. " You enjoy this
sort of thing so much, and Mrs. Dunbar is not musical, I
believe ? "
" Unfortunately no ! " he said, reflecting her saucy smile.
" But there is this much to be said in recommendation of that
mythical personage — if her quiet habits are a disappointment
to me, in this matter, she is a pearl as regards others. For
example, curtain-lectures and matrimonial squabbles are things
unknown in our model abode "
Again Jessie blushed, and this time Mr. Dunbar could not
help noticing it. Fearing that he had inadvertently touched a
raw spot, he hastened to change the topic.
" There is that pretty little ballad — " Rock me to sleep,
Mother ! " he said. " Shall we try it ? "
It was a great favorite with Roger. How many times,
when he was tired, or suffering with headache, had si e held
his head upon her lap, and, while stroking his dark curls,
warbled the tender strain until lie fell asleep ! It would have
required an effort of will to go through it successfully, had she
been fresh and unshaken by previous trials of nerve and feel¬
ing —* but her factitious strength was gradually deserting her.
372
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
That is the worst with novices in acting — they are liable to
breakdown at the most unlucky moment. She finished the first
verse with tolerable steadiness of voice and finger— Willie's
stronger tones helping her out upon the chorus. Then she
began the second, alone —
" Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shown;
No other worship abides and endures,
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours.
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and world-weary brain."
Here the tremulous notes, plaintive as the cry of a mateless
bird -— ceased ; down went Jessie's head into her clasped
hands, and a rain of tears trickled through her fingers, upon
the ivory keys.
" T cannot ! oh, I cannot sing it ! "
" My dear Mrs. Harrison ! Jessie ! " exclaimed Mr. Dunbar,
regretfully, " I ought not to have put your feelings to this test !
I should have remembered —"
Jessie raised her face, quickly, dashing off the rain from her
eyelashes." " What do you mean ? " she asked, haughtily,
" Remembered what ? "
" Onlv " — his manner indicative of intense astonishment at
%/
the inexplicable change in hers — "that to one who has lost a
dear and loving mother, those lines must bring sadness. I
should have recollected what a parent and woman yours was,
and how you must mourn her still."
" Thank you ! " she said, gratefully, ashamed that she had so
nearly betrayed her secret ; the loneliness of the loveless wife ;
the longing of lier spirit, in its present poverty of affection
and companionship, for the tender comfortings, the unswerving,
inalienable devotion of her who was no more. " Never let
her feel the want of my love ! " the dying mother had said ta
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
373
Roger, and he had promised to be to the weeping daughter
both husband and parent. How had the vow been kept?
Jessie rallied speedily ; laughed at her own weakness ; sang
and talked with apparent ease and liveliness, but those mourn¬
ful lines were never out of her mind. A wailing voice seemed
to sing them, over and over, in her ear -—
" No other worship abides and endures,
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours! "
The wildest, most passionate worship she had ever inspired
had changed into impatient contempt — maybe aversion. Not
thus would the fond mother have cast off her child, had her
soul been dyed with the blackest crimes. Oh ! that she could
indeed " turn Time backward in his flight," be a child, free,
happy, hopeful, once more !
Mr. Dunbar had observed much, this evening, and deduced
certain conclusions therefrom. There was a screw loose in the
home that, more than any other, had excited his desire to have
a wife and fireside of his own. Jessie was making a brave
struggle to keep up appearances, to hide her hurt -— and he
honored her for the attempt, but. the dear little woman was a
poor hypocrite, and the mask was painfully thin to one who
knew her as he did. Harrison deserved a caning, if he had
given her cause for sorrow ; for Willie's love for his girl-
sweetheart had left its trace in a certain chivalrous attachment
for his friend's spouse.
A rattling at the outer door made both check their conversa¬
tion, and listen.
" Some one is tampering with the lock ! " whispered Jessie,
in considerable trepidation ; " is trying to open the door with
a false key ! "
" Not at this hour of the evening ! " smiled Willie, encour¬
agingly. " It is more likely to be some tipsy fellow who has
32
374
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
mistaken tlie house for Iiis own ; I will go and send him about
his business."
Jessie followed him as far as the parlor-door, peeping timidly
into the hall, while he drew hack the night-latch, and admitted
— the master of the house !
" Harrison ! why, we mistook you for a burglar or a to»
per ! "
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! a capital joke ! Something wrong with this
confounded key ! wouldn't go in ! How do you do, old boy ? "
shaking his hand violently. " Glad to see you ! walk in ! "
Jessie had shrunk back, with a cold agony at her heart she
had never felt before. The horrid truth flashed upon her at
the first thick, stuttered word uttered by her husband. He
was intoxicated ! he, the upright, honorable gentleman —high
in the world's esteem ; whose character, among his fellow-
citizens, had never been perilled by an unworthy deed ; whose
reputation was stainless as that of the purest woman ! Sweep¬
ing as had been her reprobation of his recent behavior to her¬
self, the possibility of his actual moral delinquency had never
entered her wildest imaginings. The mere idea would have
overwhelmed her with dismay ; and, here, without a word of
warning, she was obliged to confront the loathsome reality !
Willie Dunbar shared in her consternation. He could
scarcely credit the evidence of his own senses, testifying, as
they all did, to his friend's real condition.
" No, thank you ! " he said, hoarsely, to the invitation ex¬
tended him. "I was just going. It is getting late ! "
" Humbug ! Now I can tell you, Will, this is a thing I
won't allow ! You come and make love to my wife all the
evenir g, and then try to sneak off, the minute I show my face !
I'll be hanged if you shan't take a glass of wine with me before
you budge ! "
He seemed from the sound to be dragging his guest toward»
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
the parlor, and overcome by shame and fright, unable to meet
Willie's compassionate regards, or to support Rogei's drunken
salutation, Jessie ran through the library, and, so on, up to her
chamber, where she dashed herself upon the bed, in a paroxysm
of terror and woe. Presently she raised her head, and heark¬
ened. The gentlemen were still talking below, and she crept,
by degrees, to the head of the staircase, to gather the purport
of their conversation. Willie spoke in firm, but mild accents,
apparently trying to quiet the other by persuasion and expos¬
tulation. She caught a single phrase.
" Your angel of a wife — "
Roger broke in coarsely, with a laugh. " That is as much
as you confounded lucky fellows of bachelors know about the
estate of double misery. She is an angel — over the left ! "
" Roger ! I am ashamed of you ! "
The rest of the sentence, which was long, was inaudible.
At the end of fifteen or twenty minutes — a space of time that
seemed interminable to the quaking listener, they came out
into the hall.
" Y ou must ! " Willie said, decidedly. " Your clothes are
soaked with rain, and you have kept them on too long, al¬
ready."
" You see (hic !) I went out without an umbrella, and didn't
(hie !) notice the storm until I was drenched."
" Go quietly up to bed, and, I say, Harrison — be a man —
and, for the love of mercy — for the sake of decency—-don't
terrify your poor wife Î "
"All right! Good-night!" Roger had gone up a couple
of steps, when, with that inevitable mingling of the comic with
the deplorable and disgusting, that disposes the most pitying
spectator to laugh at a drunkard's behavior, he halted, and laid
his hand patronizingly upon his adviser's head. " William
Dunbar ! you are a fine fellow ! a deuced fine fellow ! but, let
376
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
me say it as a well-wisher to you (hie !), one who has a sincere
regard for.your reputation (hie !), you are just a little too fond
of (hie!) crooking your elbow! Go straight lmme, my man,
and look not upon the wine while (hie!) it is red! That's
Scripture, my boy, and blamed sound advice ; don't neglect
it."
Jessie had not stayed to hear this through, but hastening
back to her chamber, had locked the door of the inner room,
the nursery, where the children lay, wrapped in their innocent
slumbers, and now stood, nerving herself — for what ? She
dared not trust herself to picture the probable scene in reserve
for her. She had never spoken to a drunken man ; never
been in the same room with one in her life ; and her ideas of
their brutal violence, their total irresponsibility to conscience
or pity, were drawn from highly-wrought fiction, and such
items in the police reports of the daily papers as had chanced
to fall under her notice, narrating instances of horrible atrocity,
unnatural cruelty, perpetrated by tipsy fathers and husbands.
But, if her life were to be the penalty of her steadfastness she
must stand her ground. This degraded driveller was her
husband, and no eyes save hers must behold him at his lowest
estate.
She had an impression, derived whence she knew not, that
he ought to be gotten into bed without delay, and that she
would be compelled, by reason of his helplessness, to assist
him in his preparations for that needful retreat. So, when he
staggered into the room, and, after a ludicrously desperate
affectation of standing very erect, and walking in a very
straight course across the carpet to the bureau, where he was
accustomed to stand while winding up his watch — he sank
into a chair, not appearing to see her — she did not lose a
moment, but going resolutely up to him, took hold of his coat
to remove it. It was saturated with wet, as was each article
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
077
of his under-clothing, actually clinging to the skin as she helped
him pull them off. Neither spoke a syllable, while she pro*
duced dry garments ; put them upon him, and chafed his feet
with flannel, to restore circulation and warmth. She was
dumb with disgust and horror, and he, either stupefied by the
increasingly deadly effect of his potations, or morose and mor¬
tified at having to accept such offices at her hands. She asked
a question, when he was lain down.
" Can I do anything more for you ? "
lie shivered, gave a grunt, that sounded like a negative ;
pulled the blankets about his neck, and in less than a minute
was fast asleep.
With clenched hands, knit brows, and bosom heaving with
emotions too mighty for speech, Jessie stood like one in a fear¬
ful nightmare. Was she indeed awake, and had this awful
curse descended upon the lately happy and peaceful family ?
Had she become that wretched and pitiable thing — a drunk¬
ard's wife? Were her pure snow-drops of children to be
polluted by a drunkard's kisses ? to be reviled and pointed at,
as the offspring of an inebriate? Was that gross lump of
humanity lying before her there, with inflamed features and
muddled brain, and reeking, poisonous breath, to be henceforth
the body of death, from which she was never to be delivered
while life lasted ?
" Heaven help me ! for this is very hard to bear ! "
She carefully secured the doors, removing the keys, in a
vague fear lest he should arise and attempt to wander abroad
during the night ; then, extinguishing the light, locked herself
in with the babies, in the nursery ; exchanged her evening
dress for a wrapper, and lay down beside Tilly on her little
bed. Watching, thinking, fearing, she passed the hours until
the drizzling morning broke through the shutters. It was
strange that, with the memory of her husband's parting words
32*
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
before dinner, fresh in her remembrance, it did not occur to
her to blame herself for this frightful wreck of happiness and
respectability, Roger had obeyed the impulse of his unbridled
passions. Her conduct, throughout the whole affair, had been
dignified — dutiful—in a word, irreproachable. He had first
flung her from him ; declared, in unequivocal terms, that lier
companionship was distasteful to him ; had avowed his dimin¬
ished attachment to her and home. From this, the declension
into open, scandalous vice was easy and rapid. She would
have scouted the insinuation that she liad robbed him of the
safeguards men of his temperament find in the sweet love and
confidence of their domestic circles, and driven him beyond the
pale of her influence. Her mental reproaches were for him -—
him only. If she had not ceased to love him before this latter
flagrant act, every instinct of purity, every principle of right
must now be in revolt. Yet duty must, and should still assert
its supremacy; still control her actions and speech. There
was no playing martyr now ! The rack was set boldly in her
sight ; the cords and screws all ready.
At one thought she winced sorely. Another was privy To
this horrible humiliation. Total secrecy was thus rendered
impossible. At a word from Willie Dunbar, every finger in
the community would be pointed at the family and their fallen
head. Nevertheless, she was thankful that, since the shame¬
ful story was in another's keeping, that Willie held it. She
could rely upon his discretion — his friendship for Roger —-
above all, upon his sympathizing regard for herself. Her
hands were more closely clasped as she recalled the sorrowful
respect of the tone that had called her an " angel," then, her
cheeks crimsoned hotly at the thought of the indelicate, unfeel¬
ing sneer that had answered him.
" If I had married Willie, I would never have suffered as I
am doing now ! His wife would have been tenderly cherished
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
379
— respected and beloved ! Oh ! why did I not see all this
eight years ago ? "
Id was the first open utterance of disloyalty to her wedded
husband, and there could have been no more positive proof of
the distance her wayward feet had strayed from the right path,
the swift and dangerous perversion of her convictions of right
and wrong ; of the solemn duty she had sworn to him before
God and man, than the fact that she was not startled by the
thought ; did not repel the subtle whisper as a direct and fatal
temptation from him who has woven many nets of similar
texture for unwary and reckless souls.
380
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
CHAPTER IV.
Roger Harrison awoke late on the morning succeeding
his night or dissipation. It was some time before he could col¬
lect his wits sufficiently to understand the meaning of his furred
tongue, dry throat, and aching head. It was not until he started
to a sitting posture, and his eye fell upon the empty chair where
ne invariably deposited his clothes upon retiring, that he rec¬
ollected, dimly, his inability to undress himself; his wife's
grave, shocked face ; Dunbar's remonstrances, and the excesses
that had reduced him to this state. Iiis brain felt like a great
ball of molten lead, rolling, and swinging, and beating, with the
sound of fifty sledge-hammers, within his skull, and every bone
ached as if it were broken. lie lay back upon his pillow, with
a deep groan, just as the door unclosed noiselessly to admit
Jessie.
She bore upon her arm the garments he had worn over
night, now dried and brushed by her own hands. She would
not put this clue to their master's fall within the servants'
reach. It is an old adage, that he is a fool, indeed, who cannot
carry an umbrella when it rains, and that Mr. Harrison had
failed to use this very common precaution, certainly argued a
remarkably befuddled brain. Arranging her burden upon the
vacant chair, Jessie glanced at the bed and met the blood-shot
eyes of its occupant. She could not repress a start and a
shiver, which were not lost upon him. No wonder that she
dreaded and desired to avoid him !
Not offering to approach him, she inquired in a brief, bush
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
381
ness-like way —"Are you ready for your breakfast? If so,
I will have it brought up to you, before you rise."
She understood, then, the torments of body he was under¬
going ; his powerlessness to get up or walk !
" You are very good ! " lie responded, meekly. " I will
trouble you for a cup of coffee ; I cannot eat."
She withdrew to give the order, reappearing, shortly, with a
basin and towels, for his ablutions, and a goblet of ice-water in
her hand. Sfhe had heard of the burning thirst that consumed
the debauchee, and he knew why this was brought ; was abased
in his sight and in hers, even while he drained greedily the
last drop of the delicious draught. Gently, he imagined it was
tenderly, his wife laved the hot hands and face ; brushed his
hair; beat up and adjusted his pillow.
" You had better lie still and try to sleep now," she said,
when he had quaffed his coffee. " I will darken the room, and
keep the house quiet."
" Jessie ! " He detained her as she would have moved
away.
" What is it ? " Her tone was patient, but formal.
" I have lowmred myself in your esteem. I deserve your
scorn, but you cannot despise me, as I do myself. I never
meant to drink to excess. I did not do it to drown care ; but
I had walked far in the rain, too miserable to care or think
about the storm, and growing faint, I went into a restaurant
and ordered my supper. Then, I called for brandy, for I was
thoroughly chilled and very uncomfortable. When it came, I
mixed a glass with hot water, thinking that I would sip it while
J ate. I was absent-minded and careless as to what I did, and
when this was gone, I prepared a second. The effect was
pleasant, warming and invigorating me, and I had no suspicion
that I was exceeding the bounds of prudence. The room be¬
came bot and close, after a while, but my brain was not affected
382
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
until I passed again into the outer air. I met no one that 1
knew, for the night was stormy. I came directly home, for I
was growing giddy, and I guessed what was the matter. You
know the rest. This is the plain truth. My conduct was in¬
excusable. I own it freely, without an attempt at palliation.
Tut I here swear solemnly, that this, my earliest transgression
of this nature, shall be the last. The memory of w7hat I now*
endure, and the suffering I have cost you, shall be my defence
for the future. Sweet wife ! ministering angel ! say you forgive
me ! that our home shall be once again the paradise it was of
old — before these miserable misunderstandings and my griev¬
ous downfall made shipwreck of our happiness ! "
What malevolent genius stood at Jessie's side as this touch¬
ing appeal was made ? this humble confession and petition, in
which wras not a word of censure of her ? She did not ask
herself. She only knew that it was the struggle of an instant
to curb her rising pity, to harden her features into the marble
mask she had worn sedulously in his presence since their rup¬
ture, two days before ; that a thrill of exultation, she did not
recognize as gratified revenge, shot through her soul. He liad
done his utmost to humble her ; had trampled relentlessly upo"
her feelings. It was but fitting retribution that he should lie
O O
in the dust before her — self-convicted, and implore her not to
thrust him away. lie had accused her of bringing misery
upon him. His doing had resulted in infamy to himself and
the guiltless beings dependent upon him.
"You are the best judge — the undisputed master of your
own actions ! " she answered in pseudo-humility. " I do not
presume to condemn any of them."
She never forgot his mournful look.
" Is it so, Jessie ? Can nothing move you ? no extremity
of penitence win your forgiveness ? no promise regain your con*
fidence ? Have you, then, entirely ceased to love me ? "
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
$63
" If you please, Roger, we will not talk of that. My feelings
may be beyond the control of my will; I trust that my deeds
will always testify my constant sense of what is due to you as
mv husband."
•/
With a weary sigh he relinquished the hand to which he had
clang while he had pleaded and questioned, and laid his cheek
o the pillow.
u What can I do to make you more comfortable ? " she in¬
quired, secretly half-frightened at her own stoical reception of
his advances.
" Nothing — thank you ! "
u Will you sleep, now ? "
" I will try ! " with the same subdued air. " You have been
very kind to me. I hope not to trouble you further; I have
been a great tax upon your time and strength. I am sorry ! "
Jessie was unprepared for this child-like resignation to her
majestic decree. If he had stormed or grumbled, her armor
lay ready to her baud. As it was, she was puzzled, and, to
tell the truth, a little shaken. She peeped into the darkened
room, several times in the course of the forenoon, but, seeing
that he slept soundly, did not disturb him. At the hour for
luncheon, she ventured to speak to him and offer a cup of tea,
but he was only partially aroused ; declined the proffered re¬
freshment, and dozed off again. By evening, he began to toss
7 O <j O7 O
to and fro, and mutter strangely, and she was terrified to per¬
ceive, after repeated efforts to attract his notice and obtain a
coherent reply, that he was delirious. The heat of his limbs
and head was almost scorching to the touch, and his breathing
o 7 O
labored. Thoroughly alarmed, she sent off for the family phys¬
ician, to whom she mentioned, guardedly, the wetting Mr.
Harrison had sustained, adding that he took no precaution for
warding off the evil effects of the same, beyond drinking a glass
<~7 7 %/ O O
of brandy. This, she thought, had done bim more harm than
384
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
good, since he was so unused to such fiery draughts, that it had
produced a violent headache. She was very tender of the un¬
conscious sufferer's reputation, and experienced a sad pleasure
in shielding him from the suspicions of others. Anger was
past, and pride, the demon fatal to her peace, and, possibly, her
husband's life, was already quailing before the uplifted lash of
remorse.
The doctor listened attentively to her story, recited below
stairs ; but his aspect underwent a rapid change when he stood
by the sick man's bed. His lifted eyebrows and compressed
lips, as he laid his finger upon the bounding pulse, made Jessie
tremble. Yet she was not prepared for his verdict. He was
habitually terse and candid — some said, to a fault.
"Your husband is a very sick man, Mrs. Harrison. His
symptoms indicate a severe attack of pneumonia, attended by
a highly irritated state of the brain. Prompt remedies and
good nursing are requisite. Late as it Is, you had better allow
me to look for an efficient nurse, to-night. There is no time
to be wasted."
White as the wall against which she leaned for support,
Jessie was yet able to reply firmly.
" I will nurse him myself, doctor ! Please leave your direc¬
tions with me."
He looked doubtful. " The fatigue will be great, and you
are not strong."
" I will not intrust my husband to the care of any one beside
myself. I shall not lack for strength."
" A good wife ! " thought the physician, as he re-entered his
carriage. "A faithful, affectionate wife — and likely soon to
be a widow."
Jessie was saying these last words to herself, hanging over
Roger's bed, stricken by such remorseful despair as feAv are
doomed to know in this world. He would die, and she had
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
385
murdered him ! as surely and guiltily taken his precious life,
as if she had mixed his daily food with poison. Had she been
mad — possessed of devils — God-forsaken ! that she had suf¬
fered an idle, petulant saying to outweigh the host of kindly
deeds and tender words, whose name was legion, which had
been given her as abundantly as the air she breathed, since
the day when he took her to his large, loving heart and called
her " wife ! " She forgot nothing of all this, now. Still less
could she put from her the image of the seeking, anxious eyes
that followed hers, the evening of Miss Jordan's visit ; his
efforts at conciliation, the next morning, and the bitter disap¬
pointment depicted in every feature at her haughty repulse ;
the beseeching expression —- half-hope, half-apprehension —•
that accompanied the presentation of the book he had bought
to give her pleasure. Baffled and stung by her unwomanly
and unwifelike conduct, he had rushed from the chilling atmos¬
phere of her presence, into the storm and to the maddening
glass, and these had wrought his death. Nay, more — after
he was struck down — when the mortal disease was already
rioting in his veins, he had humbled himself to sue for her
pardon ; had entreated her repeatedly, in spite of bodily pain
and mental suffering, in the name of the love she once bore
him, to put away her malice and uneharitableness, and grant
him some token of kindness-»-and she had proved «ou irate
throughout ! Here was the beginning of her punishnmt* ; —
to see him bereft of consciousness; seeing, hearing, ku©«ing
nothing—-deaf to the voice of her weeping ; beyond the .«^ch
of her lamentations over the awful wrong she had done mm ;
her frantic prayers for pardon !
All night long she watched and served him. There was no
condescension, now, in performing the humblest duties required
by his situation. The hot, swollen hands were bathed with
tears as well as fragrant cooling waters, and kisses were rained
^33
386
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
upon the thick matted locks she had often to comb back from
the flushed, uneasy brow. lie did not recognize her voice
during that long and agonizing vigil. A wild stare or a sense¬
less mutter, was all the reply to the endearments lavished upon
him—the caresses and protestations, to obtain one of which,
he might have knelt vainly but yesterday morning.
The doctor paid an early call, and went away, leaving no
encouragement to hope. At noon, he came again, and a third
time that evening. He lingered longer at this than in the
previous visits ; examined his patient carefully, and sat, lost in
grave stud}', his lingers upon the throbbing wrist, his regards
fastened upon the face, stained darkly with fever. Jessie eyed
him narrowly ; her life seeming to hang upon his decision.
She believed that she had braced herself to hear the worst,
yet his address smote her like the clashing boom of a death-
knell.
" I would like, with your permission, Mrs. Harrison, to hold
a consultation upon this case. Have you any choice as to
what physician I shall call in ? "
" I leave that to you ! " The response was just articulate.
" Mr. Dunbar is below ! " continued the doctor. " He will
remain until he learns from me how Mr. Harrison is, to-night.
I will take the liberty of sending him for Dr. Elder. He
stands high in his profession. Have I your consent to this ? "
She bowed, and he left her.
Jessie sank upon her knees by the bedside and tried to pray,
with a blind sense of the inutility of all human help to succor
her darling from the dark valley she believed him to be enter¬
ing. The All-pitiful doubtless heard her wordless groans ;
interpreted the language of the sighs that rent lier heart ; but
to herself, the act she would have made devotion, appeared
useless mummery ; her petitions to rise no higher than her
head, and there disperse in empty air. Instead of winning the
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
887
assurance of answered prayer, there was stamped, i a letters of
fire, wherever she looked, one sentence —
"For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall he judged, and
with lohat measure ye mete, it shall he measured to you again ! "
As she had forgiven, was her great sin to be pardoned.
Implacable and revengeful, her petitions were an abomination
in the sight of the Lord.
The entrance of the physicians was the signal for her ban¬
ishment ; but she waited at the threshold while their conference
lasted. They were startled and slightly embarrassed at the
apparition that met them as they opened the door. She did
not speak ; only clasped her hands, with an appealing, beseech¬
ing look that melted both, used as they were to the sight of
human woe.
" Take heart, my dear ! " said old Dr. Elder, huskily, patting
the fair young head, as if she were his daughter. " We will
save him, if we can ! " »
His more frank coadjutor merely said, "We have concluded
to vary the treatment, somewhat, Mrs. Harrison. I will write
out the directions in here," turning into an adjoining apart¬
ment.
When he gave her the paper and his verbal instructions, he
remarked — "Mr. Dunbar wishes to speak with you. Can he
come up ? "
" No ! no ! " cried Jessie, shrinking back. " I cannot see
him ! "
The doctor looked his surprise. "You will allow him to
remain in the house all night, as he requests — will you not ?
I must recommend this plan to you as highly desirable "
" As you like — but I will not see him 1 "
She repeated — "I will not see him ! " when she was again
alone with Roger. Had she not wickedly compared this man
with her husband ? shamelessly dwelt upon the thought that
888
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
regretted lier choice of the latter? Had he not seen her fly
from the sight of the man she had goaded to desperation and
sin, as she would have done at the intrusion of the vilest out¬
cast ? She could never endure his glance again ; the associa¬
tions called up by the sight of him, the sound of his voice,
would crush her to the earth with shame.
She had to encounter this trial before another morning!
dawned. Soon after midnight, the fever and delirium reached
their height. The sick man shouted and sang, and tossed from
one side of the bed to the other ; flinging his arms aloft, and
beating his chest and head—the seats of the torture he was
suffering. Katy, who lay on a sofa in the nursery, to be within
call, should her mistress need her, became frightened, and, un¬
bidden, ran down to the parlor, where Willie sat reading, too
restless and anxious to sleep. The girl's report brought him
quickly to the scene of action. ITe reached the door in time
to see the patient struggle to rise, and, being restrained by his
wife, strike her with such force that she staggered, and would
have fallen, but for Dunbar's supporting arm.
" He did not mean it Î He is quite wild ! " panted the poor
woman, dizzy with pain, yet fearful lest the shadow of blame
should be attached to her husband.
" I know it ! You should have let me come up sooner !
This is not fit work for you ! "
Once, and once only, did Jessie remember lier sin so clearly
as to recoil from his friendly assistance, during the hours of
terrible solicitude that ensued. As Roger became drowsy or
weary, he was more quiet, only stirring at intervals. They
supposed that he had fallen asleep, when he unclosed his lan«
guid eyes, and sang, brokenly —
" Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your long lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep —"
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
389
The faint murmur died away utterly, and he slept indeed —«
was it to wake never more? So the wretched wife believed,
and the stony anguish of her attitude and visage moved Willie
to' whisper a word of cheer and hope. The gesture that waved
him back was imperative — almost wrathful.
Five minutes elapsed, before she opened her white lips to
say — " You mean well, but I know best what I have to
bear ! "
Day came, and Roger slumbered still. Sunrise brought the
doctors. Jessie expected no comfort ; did not obsérve the ex¬
change of congratulatory looks that succeeded their inspection
of the sleeper. When Dr. Elder beckoned her into the nur¬
sery, she went to receive the sentence of Roger's departure.
" You are tired out, dear child ! You must take rest, or I
shall be called in to you next."
She made no reply, did not move her dull eyes from the
face visible through the open door, resting on the pillow, with
closed lids and strange, bluish shadows upon it.
The doctor made another effort to arose her. " You must
husband your strength, for he will require capital nursing for
some time yet."
" What did you say ? " demanded Jessie, alive and eager
enough now. " Do you mean that he is —" *
" Better decidedly ! The fever has left him. We think
that he will awake, conscious. We hope he will be spared to
you for many years ! "
" He hath not dealt with me according to my iniquity ! "
cried the wife, in a burst of glad tears, as her head sank upon
the cradle where her boy — the, father's miniature — lay
sleeping.
The doctor left her — for she liad forgotten him, and she
could pray once more.
It was not until Roger sat again in his arm-chair in the snug
o oáfr
390
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
parlor, clad in dressing-gown and slippers ; bis feet upon a
cushioned stool ; himself, pale and weak, but full of happy and
grateful emotions, that his loving nurse crept up behind him,
and drawing his head to her bosom, confessed, with falterings
and blushes many, the proud, resentful thoughts, mistaken con¬
clusions and evil resolves she had nursed into baleful life; from
the germ of Iiis one hasty speech.
u Which was unmanly, ungenerous, and false, as the sayings
of angry people generally are ! " said Roger, kissing away the
tears that were ready to fall. " Never mind, darling ! Sharp
and difficult as has been the lesson, we will have 110 cause to
regret it, if we make the memory of this, our great, and nearly
fatal error, the beacon to warn us from the outermost current
of such dangerous whirlpools, for time to come. ' Bear and
forbear ! ' is a safe rule for married people, dearest — but there
is one better and safer for them and for everybody else, for
that matter — ' Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto
you, do ye even so unto them ! ' "
NEW BOOKS
Recently Published by
8. W. CARLETON & CO., New York,
Madison Square, Fifth Aven ie and Broadway.
n.b.—The Publishers, opon receipt of the price in advance, will i snd
my of the following Books by mail, Postage free, to any part of the TJi ted
Itatea. This convenient and very safe mode may be adopted when the Beigl cl¬
ing Booksellers are not supplied with the desired work.
Marion
IlarliEsd»
ALONE.—
A novel
i2mo. cloth,
$1 50
HIDDEN PATH. .
do.
• •
do.
$j 5c
MOSS SIDE.—
do.
0 •
do.
$'i 50.
NEMESIS.— „
do.
•
do.
$1 5°
MIRIAM.—
do.
do.
$1 5°
AT LAST.—
do.
Just Published.1
do.
$1 50
HELEN GARDNER.—
do.
a 9
do.
$1 50
SUNNYBANK. .
do.
0 •
do.
$1.50
HUSBANDS AND HOMES.
— do.
0 «
do.
$i so
RUBY'S HUSBAND.—
do.
0 0
do.
5°
phemie's temptation.-
— do.
0 «
do.
$5 50
fHE EMPTY HEART.
do.
• e
do.
50
ITiUE as STEEL.—
do.
Just Published.
do.
$1 50
Misr
Mnioch.
John Halifax.—A novel. With illustration. i2mo. cloth,
75
a LIFE FOR a LIFE.
•
do.
do.
75
Charlotte Bronte (Currer Hell).
jane eyre.—A novel. With illustration. 121110. cloth, $1 75
SHIRLEY.— do. do. do. $i 75
Guide for New York City.
wood's illustrated hamd-book.—A beautiful pocket volume, $ 1 00
Hand-Hooks of Society.
the habits of 000D society ; nice points of taste, good man¬
ners, and the art of making oneself agreeable. i2mo. $1.75
Hie art of conversation.—A sensible work, for every one
who wishes to be an agreeable talker or listener. 12mo. $1.50
ârts of writing, reading, and speaking.—An excellent book
for self-instruction and improvement. i2mo. clo., $1.50
h new diamond edition of the above three popular books.—
Small size, elegantly bound, and put in a box. - $3.00
Mrs. A. P. Hill,
nag. hill's new cookery book, an i receipts. i2mo. cloth, $2.©«
i
list of books published br
Mary
J. Holmes,
LENA RIVERS. .
. A novel. i2mo. cloth,
$1 sc
DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT.
do.
do. .
$1.50
TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE.—
do.
do. .
$1,50
MARIAN GREY.
do.
do.
$1 50
MEADOW BROOK.
do.
do.
$1.50
ENGLISH ORPHANS.
do.
do.
$1,50
DORA DEANE.
do.
do.
$1.50
COUSIN MAUDE.
do.
do, .
$1.50
HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE. do.
do.
$1 So
HUGH WORTHINGTON.—
do.
do. .
$1.50
THE CAMERON PRIDE. .
do.
do.
$1.50
ROSE MATHER.
do.
do.
$1 So
ETHELYN'S MISTAKE. .
do.
do. .
$1.50
MILLBANK.—
do.
do. .
$1.50
EDNA BROWNING.—
Just Published.
do. .
$1.50
Augusta J. Evans.
SEUL AH.—
• • • •
A novel.
I2IBO. cloth,
Si-75
MACARIA.
• • « •
do.
do. .
$i-75
ST. ELMO.
• « • •
do.
do. .
$2.00
VASHTI.
Just Published.
do.
do. .
$2.00
INEZ.
* do.
do. .
$!.7S
Louisa M. Alcott.
MORNING GLORIES.—By the Author of "Little Women," etc.
Tlie Crusoe Library—44 Star Edition."
robinson crusoe.—A handsome illus. edition. i2mo.
swiss family robinson.— do. . . do.
the arabian nights.— do. do.
Captain ülayne Reid.—Illustrated.
THE SCALP HUNTERS.
THE WAR TRAIL.
THE HUNTER'S FEAST. .
THE TIGER HUNTER.
OSCEOLA, THE SEMINOLE.
THE QUADROON.
RANGERS AND REGULATORS.—
THE WHITE GAUNTLET.
WILD LIFE.
THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN.—■
LOST LENORE.
THE WOOD RANGERS. .
THE WHITE CHIEF.—
THE WILD HUNTRESS. .
THE MAROON.
THE RIFLE RANGERS.— .
► Far West Series
► Prairie Series
I2Î110. Clo.,
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
► Wild Forest Series
J do.
h
Pioneer Series
$i.5*
$i-St
$1.50
$1.50
$1.50
$1.50
$1.50
$1.50
$1.50
$1.50
$1.50
$1.50
$1-50
$1.50
$1.53
$1.50
$1.50
$1.50
$1.5°
$1.5«
Q. W. CARLETON dk CO., NEW YORK.
e
Comic Books—Illustrated.
artemus ward, His Book.—Letters, etc. i2mo. cl., $150
do. His Travels—Mormons, etc. do. $1.50
do. In London.—Punch Letters do. $1.50
do. His Panorama and Lecture. do. $1.50
do. Sandwiches for Railroad. . .25
josh billings on ice, and other things.— do. $1.50
do. His Book of Proverbs, etc. do. $1.53
do. Farmer's Allmanax. ... .25
fanny fern.—Folly as it Flies. . . .do. $1.50
do. Gingersnaps . . . .do. $1.50
do. Caper-Sauce $1.50
verdant-green.—A racy English college story. do. $1*50
Orpheus 0. Kerr.—Kerr Papers, 4 vols, in one. do. $2.00
do. Avery Glibun. A novel. . . . $2.00
do. The Cloven Foot. do. do. $1.50
ballad of lord bateman.—Illustrated by Cruikshank. .25
A. S. Roe's Works.
A long look ahead.— A novel. . i2mo. cloth, $1.50
to love and to be loved. do. . . do. $1.50
time and tide. do. . . do. $1-5°
i've been thinking. do. . . do. $1-5°
THE star and THE cloud. do. . . do. $1-5°
true to the last. do. . . do. $1-5°
how could he help it ? do. . . do. $1-50
like and unlike. do. . . do. $1-50
looking around. do. . . do. $1.50
woman our angel. do. . . do. $1-5°
the cloud on the heart. do. . . dû. $1-5°
resolution.— Just Published. do. $1.50
Joseph Rodman Brake.
»he culprit fay.—A faery poem, with 100 illustrations. $2.oc
do. Superbly bound in turkey morocco. $5.00
44 Brick" Pomeroy.
sense.—An illustrated vol. of fireside musings. i2mo. cl., $1.50
nonsense.— do. do. comic sketches. do $1.50
our Saturday nights, do. pathos and sentiment. $150
brick dust.—Comic sketches. . . . • $150
gold dust.—Fireside musings $1.51
John Esten Cooke.
Fairfax.— A brilliant new novel. . i2mo. cloth, $1.50
hilt to hilt. do. do. $i-S<3
hammer and rapier. do. . . . do. $i.çq
out of the foam.— do. Just published, do. $1 50
6
G. W. CARLETON cb CO., NEW TORE:.
"Victor Hugo.
LES MISERABLES.—The celebrated novel, 8vo. cloth. $2.5*5
•' Two vol. edition, fine paper, do. - 5,00
u In the Spanish language, do. - 5.00
Algernon. Citarles Swinburne.
la us veneris, and other poems.—Elegant new ed. - $1.50
French love-songs.—By the best French Authors. - 1.50
Author "New Gospel oí" Peace."
the chronicles of Gotham.—A rich modem satire. - $ .25
the fall of man.—A satire on the Darwin Theory. - 50
.Tulie P. Smiili.
widow goldsmith's daughter.—a novel. 12mo. cloth. $1.75
CnRIS and otho.— do. do. - 1.75
the widower.— do. do. - 1.75
the married belle.— do. Just published. 1.75
Mansíield. T. Walworth.
Warwick.—A new novel. -
LULU.— do.
HOTSPUR.— do. ...
STORUCLTFF.— do.
D el apl aine.— do.
BEVERLY.— do. Just Published.
Richard E5. Kimball.
WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?— A HOVel.
UNDERCURRENTS.— do.
SAINT LEGER.— do.
ROMANCE OF STUDENT LIFE. do.
IN THE TROPICS.— do.
henry powers, Banker.— do.
TO-DAY.— do.
M. 1U 2 else let's Remarkable Works.
1,0ve (l'amour).—Translated from the French. 12mo. cl. $i. 50
WOMAN (LA FEMME).— do. - do. - 1.50
Ernest Renan.
the life of jesus.—Trans'ted from the French. 12mo.cl. $1 75
lives of the apostles.— do. do. - 1.75
THE LIFE OF SAINT PAUL do. do. - 1-75
THE BIBLE IN INDIA— do. of Joccoliot. 2.DO
* Popular Italian Novels.
doctor antonio.—A love story. ByRuffini 12mo. cl. $1. 75
Beatrice cenci.—By G aerrazzi, with Portrait. do. - 1 75
Geo. W. Carleton.
our artist en cuba. —With 50 comic illustrations. - fi.50
our artist in peru.— do. do. - 1.5«
our artist m Africa.—(In press). do. - I 50
12mo. cloth.
$1
• 75
do.
i
•75
do.
i
• 75
do.
1
•75
do.
i.
75
do.
I.
75
12mo. cloth.
$1
• 75
do.
1
•75
do.
i
-75
do.
i
•75
do.
i
• 75
do.
i
75
do.
i
• 75
LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED BY
1
i Miscellaneous "Works.
the debatable land.—By Robert Dale Owen. 12mo. $2.oa
rutledge.—A novel of remarkable interest and power, i. 50
the 8utherlands.— do. Author of Itutledge. i. 50
frank warrington.— do. do. I . 50
saint philip's.— do. do. I.50
i/ouie.— do. do. 150
fernando db lemos.—A novel By Charles Gayaree. - 2.00
maurice.—A novel from the French of F. Bechard. - 1 50
mother goose.—Set to music, and with illustrations. - 1.50
brazen gates.—A new child's book, illustrated. - 1.50
the art of amusing.—Book of home amusements. - 1.50
stolen waters.—A fascinating novel. Celia Gardner. 1.50
heart nUNGRY.—A novel. By Maria J. Westmoreland. 1.75
the seventh vial.—A new work. Dr. John Gumming. 2.00
the great tribulation.—newed. do. 2.00
the great preparation.— do. do. 2.00
the great consummation.—do. do. 2 oo
the last warneng cry.— do. do. 1.5a
antidote to "the gates ajar."— - 25
houses not made with hands.—Hoppin's IlluS. - i.oo
beauty is power.—An admirable book for ladies. - 1.50
Italian life and legends.—By Anna Cora Ritchie. - i.^o
life and death.—A new American novel. - -1.50
how to make money; and how to keep it.—Davies. 1. 50
the cloister and the hearth—By Charles Reade. 1.50
tales from the operas.—The Plots of all the Operas. I . 50
adventures of a honeymoon.—A love-story. . I . 50
among the pines. —Down South. By Edmund Kirke. i. 50
my southern friends.— do. do. - I . ¿0
down in tennessee.— do. do. - 1.50
adrift in dixie.— do. do. - I . 50
among the guerillas.— do. do. - I . 50
a book about lawyers.—Bright and interesting. - 2.00
A BOOK ABOUT DOCTORS.— do. do. - - 2. od
woman, love, and marriage.—By Fred. Saunders. - 1.50
prison life of jefferson davis.—By J. J. Craven. 1.50
poems, by l. g. thomas.— t 50
pastimes with my little friends.—Mrs. Bennett. - 1.50
the squibob papers.—A comic book. John Phoenix. 1.50
cousin paul.—A new American novel. - - 1, 75
jargal.—A novel from the French of Victor Hugo. - 1,75
claude gueux.— do. do. do. - I . 50
ltfe of victor hugo.— do do. 2 oo
christmas holly.—By Marion Harland, Illustrated. - 1 5a
the russian ball.—An illustrated satirical Poem. - 25
the snoblace ball.— do. do. «■ 25
the prince of kashna.—Edited by R. B. Kimball. • 1.75
8
PUBLISHED BT G. W. CABLET ON dt CO.
Miscellaneous Works,
guy earlsoourt's wife.—A novel by May Agnes Fleming. . $1.75
broken dreams.—A novel in verse, by Celia Gardner. . . $1.50
Faustina.—A novel from German of H ahn-Ii ahn. . . . $1.50
pole on the game of whist.—Late London ed $1.00
Angelina Gushington.—Thoughts on Men and Things. . . $1.50
Horace greeley.—New Representative Life by Reavis . . $2.00
what i know of farming.—By Horace Greeley $1.50
Gustave adolph.—A novel from Swedish of Topelius. . . $1.50
women and theatres.—A new book by Olive Logan. . . $1.50
a lost life.—A novel by Emily H. Moore $1.50
crown jewels.— do Mrs. Emma L. Moffett. . . $1.75
adrift with a vengeance.— Kinahan Cornwallis. . . . $1.50
the franco-prussian war in 1870.—By M. D. Landon. . $2.00
dream music.—Poems by Frederic Rowland Marvin. . . $1.50
rambles in cuba.—By an American Lady $1.50
behind the scenes, in the White House.—Keckley. . . $2.00
tachtman's primer.—For Amateur Sailors.—Warren. . . 50
rural architecture.—By M. Field. With illustrations. . $2.00
treatise on deafness.—By Dr. E. B. Lighthill $1.50
sibyl Huntington.—A novel by Mrs. J. C. R. Dorr. . . $1-75
living writers of the south.—By Prof. Davidson. . . . $2.00
strange visitors.—A book from the Spirit World. . . . $1.50
up Broadway, and its Sequel—A story by Eleanor Kirk. . $1.50
military record, of Appointments in the U. S. Army. . . $5.00
honor bright.—A new American novel $1.50
MALBROOK. do. do. do $1-5°
guilty or not guilty.— do. do $i*75
Robert greathouse.—A new novel by John F. Swift. . . $2.oc
athaliah.—A new novel by Joseph H. Greene, Jr. . . . $1.75
montalban.—A new American novel $i-75
mademoiselle merquem.—A novel by George Sand. . . . $1-75
the impending crisis of the south.—By H. R. Helper. . . $2.00
the bishop's son.—A novel by Alice Carey $1-75
cruise of the alabama and sumter.—By Capt. Semmes. . $1-5°
Helen courtenay.—A novel, author of " Vernon Grove." . $ 1-75
souvenirs of travel.—By Madame Octavia W. Le Vert. . $2.00
vanquished.—A novel by Agnes Leonard. $1.75
will-o'-the-wisp.—A child's book, from the German. . . . $1.50
four oaks.—A novel by Kamba Thorpe $1.75
the christmas font.—A child's book, by M. J. Holmes. $i.co
mary brandegee.—A novel by Cuyler Pine. . . . . . $1.75
renshawe.— do. do. $1-75
Prometheus in atlantis.—A prophecy <$2. CO
titan agonistes.—An American novel $2.00