812M99
I
THE HEART OF A WOMAN
MY MARRIAGE
A DOMESTIC NOVEL


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The heart of a Woman"
MY&G

७
MARRIAGE
ADOMESTIC NOVEL
NEW YORK.
POLLARD & Moss,
47 JOHN STREET.
“Allan sulfitain' has appalling ruiveu the best work of which the
writer is capable, and it stands forth a well-wrought, artistic, and powerful
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broadly stated that the same charm which pertains to Robinson Crusoe,"
Stevenson's 'Kidnapped,' and Haggard's 'King Solomon's Mines' is found in
all its force in ‘Allan Quatermain.
ALLAN QUATERMAIN

BEING AN ACCOUNT OF HIS
Further Adventures and Discoveries in company with Sir Henry
Curtis, Bart., Commander John Good, R.N., and one
Umslopogaas.
BY H. RIDER HAGGARD.
One Volume, 12mo, paper cover,
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to acknowledge that_Haggard is a strong, original, and fascinating writer
when at his best. But many of his warmest admirers were beginning to
think that his vein had been exhausted. 'King Solomon's Mines' and 'She'
were so superior to 'Dawn' that the suspicion seemed well founded. A
daring stroke was necessary to recover his lost ground. He has made the
coup and is a winner. 'Allan Quatermain' is the strongest, most symmet-
rical and best written story he has yet produced. It is a sequel to 'King
Solomon's Mines,' in so far as it introduces three of the leading characters
of that charming tale. It was a bold inspiration which led Haggard to at-
tempt another striking story of African adventure.
But perhaps
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main and Umslopogaas from the battlefield back to the city to save the life
of Nyleptha. And just here the grand figure of Umslopogaas stands out in
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'Allan Quatermain' among the few, the immortal books that were not
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cent in design and treatment.'
POLLARD
47 John Street,
&
MOSS,
New York.
The above work sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States
or Canada, on receipt of the price.
"THE HEART OF A WOMAN."
MY MARRIAGE.
A DOMESTIC NOVEL.
NEW YORK:
POLLARD & MOSS,
47 JOHN STREET.
Copyright, 1880,
BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
MAY 22 42
812M99
I
MY MARRIAGE.
1005326

MY MARRIAGE.
CHAPTER 1.
'Home, home, sweet home!
There's no place like home!"
SING it mournfully, my heart echoing the truth of
every word. A man with an organ and a monkey
was grinding it out with untiring energy for an hour this
morning under the windows of our lodgings, and I cried
really cried from the recollections "Sweet Home "
evoked.
Three hours later the words and music still run in my
head, and I sing the refrain over and over again, more
to myself than anybody else - by "anybody else" I
mean that other figure seated beside me in the glowing
afternoon sunshine. I do not care if he hears me. If
it were not for him, the old home that awakens such ten-
der memories would be mine still.
Only three weeks married, and I am heart-sick and
home-sick already. It is a yearning, aching home-sick-
ness, which makes me, the three-weeks-old bride, long
with an unutterable longing to speed with flying feet
down the purple mountain-side, straight to the railway-
station, and get me away to the dear home-nest again.
I look around and see the world bathed in the golden
shimmering sunshine which turns the purple heather
crimson, and lays amber streaks on the calm, calm sea
lying vast and still beneath the azure blue.
Down upon the yellow strip of beach there is not even
6
MY MARRIAGE.
a fringe of creamy foam. The water meets the shore in
a long silent kiss, the boats out in the bay are not mov-
ing, but lying becalmed, with the sun on their red sails.
By-and-by-at sunset perhaps a tiny breeze may
spring up, and come murmuring over the placid deep;
and the red sails will fill, and with a little ripple and
rush the boats will sail away into the golden distance.
After contemplating the mountain-peaks, the heather,
and the fishing-boats, I hum "Sweet Home" again, and
turn my eyes upon the figure sitting about half a yard
below me, sketching industriously the strip of beach, a
jutting rock beyond, and a fishing-boat high and dry on
the shore.
This is my husband; and I look at him again with
critical eyes. He is a long "loose-limbed " individual,
clad in blue serge, with a rugged irregular face, a re-
markably good nose, light brown wavy hair, and a short
beard of the same color. He is forty, and I am twenty-
one. His hair will be gray when I shall be quite young
in, say ten years. There is not a trace, however, of a
white hair in his thick clustering locks now.
With a careful masterly hand he is putting the finish-
ing touches to the fishing-boat, but pauses suddenly as
my thoughts put themselves into words at last words
spoken desperately, with a ring of reproach that makes
them very emphatic.
Humphrey, why did you marry me?"
He turns round slowly and lifts his eyes to mine.
They are very ordinary-looking, pleasant gray eyes, noth-
ing more. There is the suspicion of a smile about his
mouth as he speaks.
“Why did I marry you, Madgie? What an odd ques-
tion! Suppose I answer it, Irish fashion, by another.
Why did you marry me?”
I crimson warmly; but there are no tears in my re-
proachful, indignant eyes.
66
I suppose because you asked me.”
The answer is lame and evasive.
Humphrey still looks up at me from the grass, lean-
MY MARRIAGE.
ጉ
ing upon his elbow, with his chin resting upon his oper
palm.
"Because I asked you! Well, unless it were leap-year
we could not have been married without. Had you ne
other reason, Madgie?
“Do you wish me to tell you the truth?" I ask, look-
ing straight into his face.
"Because I think, Humphrey,
I should be happier if we came to some sort of under-
standing."
"What is coming?" he asked, with his gray eyes full
of laughter.
"Don't laugh. I am in earnest." And he becomes
grave and earnest too.
Why did I marry you, Madgie? You speak as if I
had done you a wrong," he says, with grave gentleness
a strong contrast to my passionate explanation.
"So you have, Humphrey. Of course you do not
mean it; but, if—if I had never seen you, I should have
been happy and at home now amongst them all.”
My husband raises his eyebrows.
66
My dear child, what do you mean?
"
"I don't know. I can't explain. But I long every
hour and every minute of the day to be at home."
He draws himself a little nearer.
"Did they force you to marry me against your will?"
There is a tremor in his voice; but I steel my heart,
and go on.
(6
No, they did not lock me up, or feed me upon bread
and water, or do anything of that kind; but-but you
see there were so many of us, and mamma said you
wanted a wife, because you had come in for your uncle's
property; and she said you fancied me
Fancied
you!'
""
I take no heed of the interruption, and continue
"And I thought if even one of us six girls were mar-
ried it would be something, and a help to them all; and
so I said 'Yes.'"
" But
"You poor child!" Humphrey whispers softly.
why did you not tell me this before, Madgie?"
2
MY MARRIAGE.
There is an implied reproach in his tone, and I look
down, crimson and shamefaced.
"
Because I thought you would give me up ; and'
a little bitterly "it is not every day that a curate's
daughter marries a man with ten thousand a year."
He winces a little at the scorn in my words; but his
voice is as gentle as ever.
"I don't think I could have given you up," he says,
"I knew you did not love me, Madgie; but I thought
the love would come in time and I think so still."
"It never will!" I exclaim with passionate vehe-
mence. I never wanted to be married at all. All the
others used to talk of husbands turning up some day,
but I never did; and, even if I ever thought of one, it
was somebody quite different"
"From me?" Humphrey says, with a little smile.
"And what does my lady object to in her lord?" he
asks, leaning back on the fragrant heather and looking
up at the sky.
"Everything," is my answer, spoken with wilful bit-
terness. "You are too tall, and I always liked dark
men; and, besides, you are too rich, and you have a
beard."
12
As I finish my category he laughs outright.
"Too tall, too fair, too rich, and a beard. Oh,
Madgie, you are laughing now!"
'I was never farther from laughter," I answer discon-
solately. "Humphrey, must you and I live all our lives
together? Oh, why did you fix upon me, when any one
else would have done as well ?”
Humphrey sits up suddenly.
"Listen, Madgie. I wanted a wife, not because I
came into a fortune unexpectedly, but because I saw
and loved the only woman who could fill the place of
my wife. Darling, can't you understand that I love
you?"
His voice is very earnest; but I cannot forgive him
for stealing me from the dear home-nest.
"I don't know what you can see in me," I remark,
MY MARRIAGE.
looking down at a sprig of heather I am slowly pulling
to pieces.
"Shall I tell you?" Humphrey says. "I see a lassie's
wilful face, sweet and dimpled. She is a very nut-brown
maid; for her hair is brown, and her skin is brown.
She has a proud, sweet mouth, which can smile when my
lady wills; her color comes and goes; and I see long,
silky lashes lying on her cheeks. She will lift them
presently and look at me with her violet eyes, soft,
merry, defiant often, cross and sad sometimes; but the
look that I long for has never come into them yet.”
"And it never will," I say, lifting the eyes in ques-
tion, and looking straight for one second into his. "I
wish I were not pretty, Humphrey. But why did you not
marry Lena? She is much better-looking than I am.”
"Lena has a doll's face, with no life in it. There is
more life and fire in one look of yours than Lena could
call up in a year."
I lay both hands upon his shoulder suddenly.
"Humphrey, I will try to be a good wife to you!"
A very strange look comes into my husband's face at
my last remark. The thoughts of both of us fly back to
the marriage service.
"Love, honor, and obey,'" he says, half grave, half
smiling. "Madgie, how did those proud, truthful lips
of yours bring themselves to say those words?
"
""
Humphrey, I did not quite say it. I said to myself,
'If it be possible, I will love, honor, and obey;' and
looking up into his face "I do not think there is
any harm in that.”
If it be possible," he repeats.
yourself, little wife?
"What do you think
But I am one of those who, when greatly moved,
laugh the feeling off; so I answer, with a saucy smile
"Possible, but improbable."
"Come," Humphrey says, rising to his feet at last,
and holding out his hand to pull me up. "It is six
o'clock, Madgie, and I feel inclined for dinner don't
you ? "
;
10
MỲ MARRIAGE.
66
They will be just going to tea at home," I answer,
disdaining to take his hand, and raising myself from the
heather, to stand slight and straight by my tall angular
husband. I reach to within three inches of his shoulder
and I am not short, but about the medium height.
"Do you wish you were going to tea, too?" he asks,
collecting his sketch-book and pencils.
'Oh, I don't mind!" is my untruthful answer.
For my thoughts are flying to the busy crowded tea-
táble at home; I see the bright familiar faces around,
and hear the noise and laughter. The very discomforts
seem positive happiness. I am sick and weary of being
petted and made much of. Honestly, I have never
cared for compliments, or for men's society, and I look
upon it as a positive misfortune that I should have been
blessed cursed, I think in the bitterness of my heart
with a pretty face.
Its beauty never troubled me much at home. Amongst
my brothers and sisters, it did not much signify that I was
the flower of the flock. I never gave heed to the fact
that my eyes were a deeper blue and my eyelashes longer
than those of the others, and that my features were the
best in the family. All these good things concerned me
little, till Humphrey Carstairs fell in love with me after
three weeks' acquaintance. One day my father and
mother told me he wanted to marry me; and, although
my heart was ready to break, I gave in. Not one soul
at home knew or dreamed of the wrench to my heart-
strings when, pale and cold, I smiled beneath the wreath
of orange-blossoms; and I never shed one tear when I
kissed them all and said good-by, but went away of my
own free will.
Now, every day, every hour, I literally yearn and pine
for one day even of the old home-life, the busy, happy life,
where, if we were poor, we never felt the poverty because
of the love that smoothed away the difficulties. I long
for the sound of the clear young voices, and yearn to be
amongst my merry, happy brothers and sisters; above
all, I long for my second self, my favorite sister Bee,
MY MARRIAGE.
11
the hoyden and romp at home-dear, wild, impetuous
Bee oh for the sound of her ringing laugh, the sight
of her madcap face! It is no good wishing; I can never,
never be the same again. I have dropped out of the
old life and begun a new existence, and I am miserable,
absolutely miserable.
Humphrey cannot make up for all I have lost. His
society gives me no pleasure. I wish that he did not
care for me so much, or, still better, that he would not
expect me to care for him. It is quite an impossibility
to give him the whole of my affection. It is easy to
understand a great and absorbing love for one's own
family; but all of a sudden to transfer one's whole affec-
tion to a man, and he a comparative stranger, seems a
thing incredible. Romantic literature was tabooed in our
house; so that, excepting an occasional yellow-backed
novel smuggled in by Jack and stowed away like contra.
band goods, the love-passages that adorn the literature
of the day are unknown to me.
1
HUMPHREY
CHAPTER II.
UMPHREY holds my hand and steadies my steps
as we descend the hill-side and finally come down
to the beach, and then he lifts my hand and lays it upon
his arm. In this fashion we walk along side by side
towards the rows of white houses standing out against
the blue sky.
And this mode of progression is another thing I object
to strongly in my married life. I am far more sure-footed
and active than my husband, and yet he must be perpetu-
ally guiding my steps, or gently insisting on our walking
arm in arm. It is perfectly absurd! I like untrammelled
liberty of action. If I take away my hand and hurry off
by myself, Humphrey looks hurt; and so I submit even
12
MY MARRIAGE.
to his laying his other hand over mine, lying on his arm,
and holding it in a close, warm clasp. It seems so strange
that any one should care to caress my scratched, sunburnt
hands; why, even Bee and I, who love each other better
than anything else in the wide world, never lavish kisses
and caresses! I am convinced we should each think the
other mad if we bestowed any but the orthodox birthday
kiss or Christmas greeting. The chief charm of home-
life is the absolute freedom of one's affection; and I feel
half frightened when my husband holds me in his arms
and strains me tightly to him and kisses me many times
a day, I never make any demonstration; once, at his
urgent request, I laid a light, fleeting kiss on his forehead,
and wondered why he valued that one touch of my lips
so much.
"How lovely the sea looks to-night!" Humphrey re-
marks. “Would you like to go on the water after dinner,
Madgie?"
"Oh, yes! It will help to pass the time."
"Very well; I will order a boat as we pass."
66
Humphrey, will you teach me to row ?" I ask, look-
ing up into his face.
66 If you like; but won't it blister these little hands? "
-turning my palm upwards with a touch as if he were
handling a rose-leaf.
Nonsense; I will learn to row!"
Very well; you shall have your first lesson to-night,
he says, in his low quiet voice, his eyes upon my face
I like your hair that way, darling."
That way" means a short tangle upon my forehead
- a piece of vanity I have been guilty of since my mar-
riage.
"I wonder if they will like my fringe at home?" I say
anxiously.
"I like it; so it does not matter who does not," smiles
Humphrey.
I grow grave at once. It will be the same all my life.
What he likes will be the thing, not what would please
the others at home.
MY MARRIAGE.
13
"If mamma and Bee don't like my hair cut on my
forehead, I shall let it grow again," I say, with a defiant
look that plainly challenges contradiction.
But Humphrey glides off to a safer topic.
"The mackerel are in. Would you care to go fishing
to-morrow morning?"
Fishing recalls tender memories of home-scenes, and
my exertions to land the speckled trout or lure him from
his cool retreat; but I bite my lip to steady a quiver,
and answer gayly
"Oh, yes! It will be something to do.”
"Does time hang so heavily on your hands?" His
voice is very gentle; but he ends with a sigh, and I am
sorry.
"It is not your fault, Humphrey; you know I have
not got into the way of my new life yet.'
""
Humphrey strokes my hand in silence for a few mo-
ments.
"Do you know," he says at last, "that I feel as if I
had stolen a little bird out of a nest?"
And clipped its wings and put it into a cage," I
answer, finishing the metaphor. "But even stolen birds
get happy after a time, Humphrey; it is only at first
they beat their wings."
66
And you will get happy, Madgie you will make
my home yours, and love it some day?" And he bends
his eager, questioning face down to mine.
But all I have lost, all I have given up, comes back
to me with a rush; and I cry out in quick, sharp pain.
"No, no; don't make me think I could ever care for
any other home!"
A few moments later I laugh to hide the tears, and
Say
"Humphrey, I will race you home."
Without waiting for an answer, I am off, speeding
with flying feet along the golden sands, my sailor-hat on
the back of my head, my behaviour that of a very school-
girl. The inhabitants of the spot in the heart of the
towering mountains are too quiet and unsophisticated to
14
MY MARRIAGE.
stare at me as I come racing to my own door. I fly up-
stairs, sob wildly for about two minutes, and am bathing
my flushed face when I hear my husband's foot upon
the stairs.
"What a child you are!" he says, laughing.
And then we go down to dinner, and sit with the win-
dows open, the lace curtains lazily flapping to and fro
and the blue, blue sea beyond.
I am getting very tired of these tête-à-tête repasts and
the terrible interest Humphrey takes in everything I eat.
His eyes always seem to be fixed upon my face with a
kind of rapturous admiration.
"What a pretty color you have after your race!" he
says.
"Don't!" I answer, frowning. "If you stare at me,
Humphrey, I cannot eat.”
But he thinks I am joking, while I was never in more
sober earnest.
"Do women ever love their husbands?" I ask gravely,
busy over a bunch of purple grapes the finest in the
dish-which Humphrey has been carefully picking out
for me.
"What, Madgie?" he cries, peeping round the vase
of flowers to look at my face.
"I mean is it possible?"
"Is what possible?"- his eyebrows uplifted with
their puzzled expression.
"For a woman to care for any man in the way she
has loved all her own people at home."
The sad look that so often rests in his eyes over-
shadows them now, as he answers
"You are talking of your own case, Madgie; but I
can tell you of a woman's love so deep and strong that
she counted it no sacrifice to give up home and people
for her lover's sake."
His voice is dreadfully earnest; so I laugh uneasily,
and look away between the waving lace curtains out at
the sea.
"But people can get on very well without all that,
can't they, Humphrey?"
MY MARRIAGE.
15
疊
​"I suppose they have to do so sometimes," he an-
swers in a low voice, "when the love is all on one side."
"You are talking of your own case' now," I say,
quoting his own words. "Humphrey, I think I pity
you almost as much as myself." And then I jump up.
"Are we going on the water to-night? I see ever so
many boats out."
66
Come," he says, getting up too.
Presently we are walking side by side down to the
beach, Humphrey laden with shawls. A strange, hete-
rogeneous set seem to have turned out to enjoy the
glorious sunset. I wonder where they have all come
from.
There is an old gentleman in front of us, with green
spectacles and goloshes, toddling along the sandy road
in company with a stout, elderly lady,-his wife, pos-
sibly.
As we pass she says something; and the old man, who
is apparently deaf, ejaculates, "Eh?”
She raises her voice.
"I said they were bride and bridegroom !" she shouts
Into his ear.
He favors us with a stare.
"Poor fools!" is all he vouchsafes to remark.
I laugh up at my husband and say –
"Did you hear that, Humphrey?
"Yes," is his answer; but he does not look altogether
pleased.
Then a young man comes sauntering towards us, with
a slight well-built figure, a handsome face, dark eyes,
and a small dark mustache. He is arrayed in the light-
est of gray tweed suits, and has a cigar between his lips,
which he takes away as he walks slowly past.
For a
second our eyes meet, then I look away, and, when he is
fairly out of earshot, I say to Humphrey -
"Did you see that man?"
"That young fellow who passed just now?
"Yes. Now that is my ideal of a handsome man. I
wonder who he is?"
16
MY MARRIAGE.
I am sure it does not signify," Humphrey says
shortly.
"Of course not," I answer.
"But whenever I see
strangers nice-looking strangers, I mean I always
like to know who they are."
"
We have now reached the beach, and two fishermen are
running a cockle-shell of a boat down to the water's edge.
"Is that our boat, Humphrey?'
"Yes. Here, give me your hand take care,
Madgie!"
—
I perilously pick my way towards the stern, and seat
myself with a reckless disregard to my equilibrium.
Humphrey follows he looks too large for the boat,
and his legs seem in the way; but we are packed in
comfortably at last, the boat is pushed off, and Hum-
phrey pulls with long, steady strokes, out towards the
blood-red setting sun.
"Are you pleased, darling?" he asks, bending for-
ward with the old look of adoration on his face; and I
sigh.
"It is very pleasant, Humphrey," I answer in a low
voice, looking away suddenly.
A mist has come between me and the bright sun, and
there is a choking lump in my throat. The weary home-
sickness returns with a rush, and I long with a great un-
speakable longing to be what I was three months ago
a child in the old home-life, in the sweet garden at
home, with the red sun on the rosy apple-blossoms and
on the shower of delicately tinted petals lying like pink-
flecked snow at my feet. Those were happy days before
Humphrey Carstairs crossed my path, before I woke up
to find my time was come to go out into the world, hand
in hànd with none of the dear ones I loved so well, but
with a stranger. Ah me! If I could even see dear old
Crib, the faithful mongrel who howled so sadly when I
went away! If it were possible that I could awake
some morning and find myself in my own little bed in
my own quaint, badly furnished little room, oh, sutely
no waking could be so joyous!
MY MARRIAGE.
17
The water is flying past; our little boat seems to be
leaping through the shining sea.
66
Humphrey, why do you row so hard?"
I have come back from dreamland, and put the ques-
tion in all gravity, never imagining that the look upon
my face for the last five minutes has filled him with
something keener perhaps than the pain I bear so badly.
He only smiles, however, when I speak, and leans
upon his sculls, and looks at me.
"I wish I had brought my sketch-book, Madgie; the
view is very pretty from the water."
It certainly is very beautiful, with the peaked moun-
tains standing up against the tinted sky; and I wish I
could draw like Humphrey, and make pictures of my
sketches afterwards, as he does.
"Shall we go back for it?"
Oh, no! It would be too late; the light would be
gone. Besides, I have to give you your first lesson in
rowing."
He seems pleased at my thoughtfulness, even in such
a trivial matter. What a pity it is thoughtfulness will
not satisfy him!
"I will begin now," I say impulsively, standing up
with ignorant recklessness.
"Take care!" Humphrey exclaims. "Put your hand
upon my shoulder, and sit here " at the same time
giving me his seat and drawing himself into one behind
me.
"Am I to have both sculls?"
At that he laughs, and I laugh too.
"You must learn to manage one first, my child, and
catch as few crabs as you can."
"What do you mean?" I ask, balancing my scull in
mid-air and looking over my shoulder at him.
66 Wait and see," he answers, smiling; and I see soon
enough when I find myself upon my back and Humphrey
helping me up.
"You might have told me," I say reproachfully.
"Humphrey, what did I do wrong ?"
2
18
MY MARRIAGE.
"Put your scull too deep."
"But it catches in the water now! Oh, Humphrey !
I begin to think rowing is exceedingly hard work.
My scull is very unmanageable, and simply declines to
make anything like long even strokes.
""
Keep your wrists down and take your time,"
Humphrey says.
I try hard to follow his directions, but my hands fly
up to my chin, and I seem to be making frantic, irregu-
lar grabs at the water, or my scull goes skimming along
the top, or plunges down and does anything but what I
require it to do. After half an hour's hard work, I stop,
with aching arms, warm and breathless.
66
Tired, dear?" Humphrey says in his gentle voice.
"I think you have had enough of it, Madgie."
No, no!" I answer, pushing away his hand, which,
laid upon mine, is trying to withdraw the scull, and set
desperately to work again.
"I must learn," I say; "and if I don't try I shall
never succeed."
So forthwith I set to again with a will; and when, at
last, I resign my scull to Humphrey, I have made a little
progress, and Humphrey is proud of his pupil.
"I don't dip it up and down so much, do I,
Humphrey?" I ask, settling myself in the stern again.
"After a few more lessons you will be perfect," he
answers.
"And so will my hands be," I say, holding up my red,
blistered palms for inspection.
Humphrey is more sorry for the blisters than I am,
and he is terribly afraid I shall take cold after my exer-
tions, and insists on my wrapping a large shawl round
my shoulders.
“I wish you could have seen me at home, Humphrey,
running wild with Jack and Bee and I never took
cold."
"You belong to me now," he answers tenderly.
"You are my dearest possession, and I must take care
of you."
"
MY MARRIAGE.
19
Suddenly I burst into a passion of tears. His posses-
sion! It is those two words that make the tears flow so
fast. I belong to him to this man for whom I have
no love, with whom I have no sympathy. And there is
the chafing, maddening thought that he loves me with a
passionate tenderness; and I know that each stifled sob
cuts home to his heart.
"My child, my little Madgie," he says at last, "is it
such a grief that you have given yourself to me?”
Something tells me that I am treating him unfairly,
and the pain in his voice hurts me. Raising my face
from my hands, I look sadly at him, and then comes a
long sobbing breath before the unsteady words-
Humphrey, perhaps Heaven will let me die soon."
"Hush!" he cries. "Is life so hard, so unhappy, as
that, my poor little wife ?
""
He does not understand me; and, leaning forward, I
lay my hand ever so lightly upon his, and whisper
softly-
"I was thinking of you, Humphrey. You would be
happier if I were gone."
Life without you! " he murmurs-and the three
words drop in a slow, wondering way from his lips, while
my eyes fall beneath the look I meet in his; then he
'goes down upon his knees and folds his arms around
me tightly. Madgie, Madgie, pray Heaven we will
have happiness yet!" he cries.
Only three weeks married, and one to well-nigh wish
for death already! I almost laugh, a few minutes after,
at my thought of death in connection with my perfect
health and bounding pulses. I am not likely to fade or
pine away.
A boat shoots past, with a gay, merry party on board
singing; and the sound of their voices comes sweetly
over the water.
Humphrey and I are very quiet. The twilight is set-
tling down dim and gray, and the glory has died out in
the west. The lights on shore glitter and twinkle, and
the stars are peeping out in the eternal blue above.
MY MARRIAGE.
31
There is a great rest and peace over land and sea; and
I wonder if this feeling of unrest will ever die out in my
heart and give place to the great contentment that
reigned before.
The boat just then grates upon the shingle, and my
husband lifts me out.
"I am afraid you are tired," is all he says, in his usual
tone, as if, half an hour ago, we had not laid our hearts
bare to each other, and showed the pain and longing
there.
"I am not tired," I answer gravely, and let him draw
my hand through his arm, and hold it there in the hol-
low of his broad palm.
"Are we to go mackerel-fishing to-morrow?"
I put the question with an affectation of cheerful in-
terest in the morrow, and Humphrey is deceived by the
carelessness of my tone.
"Of course, if you care about it," he answers cheer-
fully, and stops to give directions to the fisherman about
lines and bait.
Then we proceed slowly homeward, and I laugh and
talk far more than Humphrey, and speak of the prospect
of the morrow's fishing with seemingly much enjoyment
in the anticipation thereof.
TH
CHAPTER III.
HE world is very sweet with the freshness of the
new-born day. The tide is full up, and the shim-
mering golden ripples murmur soft and low. The moun-
tain-tops and half of the mountains' rugged sides are
robed in fleecy mist, which falls and rises in the bright
morning sun, changing every second as the sunbeams
pierce the gauzy substance through, and sea, sky, and
MY MARRIAGE.
21
land mingle in a strangely beautiful unreality of form
and rubstance. The sea is like a golden lake. There
is fair promise of a glorious summer day by and by,
when the mists roll away and the sun shines out in mid-
day splendor.
There are very few persons up to enjoy the glorious
freshness of the early morning; and Humphrey and I
feel that we have crept upon the world unawares, as we
pass the shuttered windows of our neighbors and wonder
how any one can lie in bed this lovely morning, We
scarcely ineet a soul in our short walk to the beach, only
a coastguard, a few heroic individuals returning from
bathing, and a fish-wife with her basket of fresh shining
fish.
I am attired in a serge dress, made sailor-fashion, and
a sailor hat; and I am longing for Bee or Lena to see
me now,
Humphrey looks down at me from time to time with
a pleased look in his eyes for I am not discontented
this morning. One would be sad indeed if the fresh
beauty of the newly awakened earth did not bring some
feeling of enjoyment.
Our boat is in readiness. It is the same cockle-shell
of the night before, and Humphrey and I go gliding
away in the golden flood, watching the misty vapors roll-
ing off the mountain-sides. But we have come out to
catch mackerel for breakfast, not to gaze on Nature's
shifting and changing beauties,
Humphrey arranges the lines, and I am soon sitting
with one in each hand, feeling terribly bloodthirsty as
we move slowly on and Humphrey tells me what to do.
"How shall I know when I have caught anything?'
I ask, my hands hanging over the sides, holding the lines
loosely.
"You will feel your line jerk," Humphrey answers.
"Keep your hands moving slowly, Madgie,"
For ten minutes we proceed without any result. I am
keeping my hands moving slowly backwards and for-
wards with mechanical precision.
22
MY MARRIAGE.
"Humphrey, it feels very heavy."
He hauls up the line, yard after yard; but it is a false
alarm, and I settle down again.
"Is this your first experience in fishing?" Humphrey
asks.
It is an unfortunate question, and my face clouds before
I answer.
"I have often fished at home."
"For trout?" he asks.
Humphrey speaks as cheerfully as if those dear old
days were not over for ever.
"Yes," I answer, and look away to the blue distant
horizon, my hands remaining quiet and still, my thoughts
far, far away.
There is a thrill, a jerk a rapid succession of jerks ;
and I hold on tightly.
"Oh, Humphrey, I am sure it is something this time."
Again he hauls up yard after yard, and this time brings
to light a leaping, quivering mackerel, flashing green,
golden, and purple in the sunlight.
"Poor fish!" I exclaim.
When I see it dying, I wish I had not caught it; but
Humphrey laughs, and tosses the hook far away into
the water again.
After that we are very successful; and when, an hour
later, we go on shore again, Humphrey bears home in
triumph fish enough, I say, to last us for a week.
The keen air has made us hungry, and our spoil is
cooked to perfection. If Bee and Jack were here, I
think I could be contented and happy, even with Hum-
phrey sitting opposite me, looking over his newspaper
every other minute.
"What would you like to do to-day, darling?" he says,
as, breakfast over, I stand looking out of the window
watching for the postman.
answer.
"I don't care anything you like," is my indifferent
"It must be nearly time for the post."
"Yes, the postman ought to be here now," Humphrey
replies, looking at his watch. "Madgie, suppose we take
MY MARRIAGE.
23
luncheon and drive to that glen ? And I might make a
couple of sketches."
"Very well," I assent, and resign myself to drive be-
side Humphrey for a dozen miles, to sit and talk to
him while he sketches, and drive back again in the
afternoon.
There is one peculiar feature in my husband's charac-
ter- his tastes seem what I may call extremely frugal.
He has ten thousand a year—a fortune left to him
unexpectedly—and he does not seem to have the most
remote notion how to spend it. He chose this quiet
spot by the sea for our honeymoon, and we live here as
quietly and as cheaply as possible. Wealth is quite new
and strange to me too. Accustomed all my life to pov-
erty, to pinch and save in every possible way, it seems an
extraordinary thing that I have but to desire to have.
"I see the postman!" I cry delightedly, my head out
of the open window watching that individual coming
slowly into view, and stopping with the most provoking
regularity at every house.
I wish that people did not get so many letters," I
say petulantly. "Stupid man! Can't he hurry?"
I do believe it is the daily pile of letters from home
that keeps me alive; even to read about home is some-
thing. Humphrey laughs at my impatience.
"You had letters yesterday, Madgie."
"Yes, but I expect them every day."
There is only one more house now
only one- and
then he stands under our windows looking over his let-
ters, and after a few moments walks past slowly and de-
liberately.
With a great throb of disappointment I step back into
the room.
"There is no letter for me."
"You will get one to-morrow, dear," Humphrey says
soothingly.
But I will not be comforted, and he wisely says no
more.
"They might have written."
•
24
MY MARRIAGE.
To me the glory has gone out of the sky, and the sun
is a thing of beauty no longer, shedding only a blinding
glare on the whitewashed walls and blue sea beyond.
Saddened, cross, and disappointed, more home-sick than
ever, I turn and look at Humphrey.
He is leaning back in his chair, the newspaper before
his face. I can see only his forehead, from which his
fair, wavy hair is pushed back. The obnoxious beard is
out of sight, but I know it is there, and I always hated
men with beards. It is becoming to Humphrey's style
of beauty, nevertheless I will not allow for a moment
that it is anything but hideous. He will not sacrifice
his precious adornment even to please me.
To-day I am too cross to care if his beard flows even
to the skirts of his coat. The postman has gone past,
and for twenty-four hours I must be without one line or
message from home.
"How can I kill twenty-four hours?" I say, half to
myself. "How can I make the time pass till to-morrow
morning?"
Humphrey's newspaper rustles, he moves uneasily in
his chair, and upon his broad brow comes a little frown.
Then he lowers the newspaper one inch, and I meet the
sorrowful, pained expression in his eyes. For a moment
I look back, mutinous, indignant, and then I make.
amends for my unkind speech.
'Humphrey, don't look like that-it is not you I
man; but I could not be happy with anybody away
from home."
An odd smile creeps into his eyes: he lays down his
newspaper and comes over to me.
66
""
Madgie, will you answer me one question?
Yes," I say, looking up at the tall figure standing in
the window.
"Is it only the home you were sorry to leave?" he
asks; and the smile has left his eyes now.
"What do you mean, Humphrey?" I say, lifting
grave, wondering eyes to his.
"You don't fret after anything else?"
MY MARRIAGE.
25
rle has not asked the question he means to ask, and
I wonder what is coming.
"Fret after anything! Do you mean Crib?”
Madgie, I am in earnest. You do not care for me,
I know not in the way a wife should care for her hus
band; but, before you knew me, was there ever any one
else?"
“Do you mean any other man ?”
At the withering scorn of the last word he laughs, and
so do I.
"No, Humphrey, there never was. You were the
first, and I liked you very much until you wanted to
marry me."
"Poor little soul! But, Madgie, do you know I began
to be afraid there was somebody else?
"Oh, dear, no I wish there had never been any-
body; and my only hope is that none of the other girls
will ever be married and have to leave home.
Humphrey, you have no idea how dreadfully lonely it is.
No man could make up for home!"
"I don't fancy your sisters will echo your sentiments,"
Humphrey says, holding my left hand in his and strok-
ing it softly. "And so you are lonely, my darling?. I
wish I could be father and mother, brothers and sisters
to you. And it is I who have caused the pain — I, who
love you so."
-
"Never mind, Humphrey," I answer, smiling bravely.
"In time I shall be used to it; just now I feel like a
dog who has been given away."
He laughs sadly at the simile.
'But he is
“You will have a kind master,” he says.
too selfish even to wish to give you back again.”
I begin to think the old man was right who called us
"poor fools."
"When are we to go to the glen?"
My remark brings back the sunshine to my husband's
face.
"Would you like it, my pet?" he asks. "Or is it
only to please me?”
26
MY MARRIAGE.
"To please us both," I answer, laughing, and stifle for
the day my disappointment about the letters. Of course
I shall hear to-morrow, and it behooves us to make the
present time as cheerful as possible.
Humphrey goes out to order a carriage from the hotel,
and I occupy myself in changing my dress. The serge
costume is too hot for the blazing mid-day sun; so I
don one of my trousseau dresses, all white muslin, em-
broidery, and pale blue ribbons a dress that in the
days when I was Madgie Alison I should never have
dreamed of. A shady hat, caught up and twisted pic-
turesquely, completes my costume; and I stand and
look at myself.
•
What a pity it is I am good-looking! If I had been
plain, Humphrey Carstairs would never have married me.
I look back very regretfully into my blue eyes, and
feel no pleasure in the picture before me. Humphrey
rejoices in my beauty because he is an artist and likes
his wife to have a pretty face. Very little its beauty
troubled me in the old wild madcap days, when I burnt
my cheeks over the heavy jam-making, and tanned my
skin in the hot sun, and took no heed that my hands
were sunburnt.
And now, in my youth and beauty, I gaze sadly at
myself, who bartered a pretty face for a lonely life with
riches to gild it; and I look at the tears rising in the
blue eyes that are gazing out from under the gipsy-hat,
and feel more despondent than ever.
" It
"What is the use of thinking?" I say to myself.
is a mistake." So I go back to the drawing-room, and
stand between the lace curtains, looking out.
How blue the sea is how intensely blue! A largė
ship is lazily sailing past, all her snowy canvas set to
catch the varying summer breeze. The smoke of a dis-
tant steamer lingers on the horizon. Then a tiny boat
puts off from the shore. I look at all these things, and
find myself thinking, not of them, but wishing that I
were Madgie Alison and not Mrs. Carstairs.
I cannot get used to my new name.
When the letters
MY MARRIAGE.
27
come up in the morning, I look for the old familiar
title, "Miss M. Alison," and feel as if anything ad-
dressed to Mrs. Carstairs does not belong to me. This
new life is a very strange thing. On my small brown
finger gleams a broad gold band, and a diamond guard
ring flashes above that.
My wedding-ring slips up and down. How easy to
take it off! In a second it is held fast in my other
hand, and, with a sinking at my heart, I look at my bare
brown hand.
"The carriage will be here at eleven, Madgie.”
It is my husband's voice, and I flush hotly, and try to
slip on that mystic circlet again unnoticed. But his
sudden appearance has startled me; the ring falls from
my fingers and rolls away under the sofa. Without a
word, Humphrey stoops and picks it up, and stands
silent for a moment, with my little golden fetter lying on
his broad palm.
Without looking at him, I hold out my hand to take it.
"No; I will put it on," he says, in such a strange sad
voice that I suddenly lift my eyes to his face. “ Madgie,"
he goes on," it is an unlucky thing for your wedding-
ring to come off.”
"I took it off," I answer, holding out my left hand,
and feeling sorry when I see the pain darkening his
eyes. "Humphrey, I did not mean anything; it was
very foolish of me.
How silly he is to mind! How gravely he takes my
hand and gently slips the golden band on my finger and
the diamond guard above! Then, bending his head, he
kisses my hand softly, but says not a word; and the
look on his face makes me keep silence.
Is he angry? I cannot determine as I steal a glance
at him, and finally make a plunge, and desperately start
a conversation.
((
Humphrey, when are we to start?"
"At eleven."
He does not say "dear," "darling," or even "Madgie,”
nor look at me when he speaks. How tiresome men
28
MY MARRIAGE.
are…always quarrelling! And perhaps he expects me
to give way first, which is a preposterous idea! At
home, when in the natural course of events any of us
fell out, we just fell in again, which was a far more con-
venient plan than apologizing.
Humphrey is standing at the other window, tall, grim,
and silent. The ship with the white sails has disap-
peared, the smoke of the steamer has melted away, and
yet we neither move nor speak.
I look at my watch-a tiny jewelled toy, one of
Humphrey's many presents. It is a quarter to eleven.
And then I begin to think that I have been unkind to
him, and that if he has any superstitious ideas about
wedding-rings I ought to respect them. I want to like
Humphrey in a friendly sort of way, a far more comfort-
able relationship than love, and perhaps we shall under-
stand each other in time.
I will make some overture; so, with my muslin robe
sweeping the floor, I step softly to the table and collect
his sketch-books and pencils.
Ex
Humphrey," I say.
Well, Madgie?" And he turns round, and our eyes
meet.
"You are going to sketch," I begin timidly; "so I am
getting the things ready."
The cloud leaves his face, and he smiles a smile that
lights up lips and eyes.
"Thank you, darling," he says, and, coming over, lays
both hands upon my shoulders, stoops and kisses me in
silence, and we have made it up, after all, without an
explanation or apology on either side.
So we start in harmony for the glen, and by mutual
consent keep our conversation to the present things
around us; and when, in the glowing afternoon, we
reach our lodgings again, I look up into my husband's
face and say with truth -
"I have enjoyed my day."
MY MARRIAGE.
20
:
R
CHAPTER IV.:
AIN, pouring rain is running down the windows
and blotting out the view. But I can think only
of the post. It is the third day since we went to the
glen, and I have had no letter from home. I am grow-
ing weary of the daily disappointment.
"They have forgotten you," Humphrey says play
fully and then more seriously, "Come to breakfast,
Madgie; your coffee will be cold."
"I don't care," I answer, not turning my head from
my stand at the window, where I am looking for the first
glimpse of the postmän.
Outside everything is looking wretchedly dismal in
the blinding, incessant downpour, the sea heaving, sullen
and gray.
Two hands are laid upon my shoulders.
"Go to your breakfast, child. I will do sentry and
watch for the postman."
""
Swallowing half a cup of coffee, I dart back again, as
Humphrey says quietly
"Here he comes."
In the pouring rain he makes his way, opens the gate,
and comes up to the door.
" Rat-tat !"
""
Oh, the joyful sound! There must be a letter to-day.
"I will go and see and Humphrey runs down-
stairs, and in another second comes up again, with two
letters in his hand:
"My darling, I am so sorry; there is none for you."
"None?" I cry, looking at him in blank disappoint
ment. "Humphrey, I am sure you are joking!
He holds out the two letters, they are both addressed
to" Humphrey Carstairs, Esq."
"Do you think I would joke, dear, when you are so
much in earnest ? ”
I turn away with quivering lips.
30
MY MARRIAGE.
"Something must have happened, or they would have
written."
"Nonsense, Madgie. If anything had happened, of
course they would have written at once. No news is
good news."
But I walk away from him, and stand looking out
of the window, dreadfully unhappy and very cross.
Humphrey cannot feel what I feel; he cannot under-
stand what it is to be away from everything one cares
for.
Presently he puts on a macintosh to go out, and
comes up to say something kind and loving before he
leaves the house.
"Don't fret, little wife. You will find it is all right."
If I speak I shall cry; so I let him go away, and
allow him to take, without returning, the kiss he seems
to expect. He looks up smiling as he walks past under
the windows; but no smile comes to my quivering lips.
The servant has come to clear away the breakfast; so
I go into the drawing-room and brush away the few
tears that come to my eyes.
I have married a man I do not care for to relieve the
home of one out of the many who must be clothed and
fed, and they do not even seem to appreciate my sacri-
fice. Bee might have written. If she were to marry, I
would write to her by every post. Perhaps she is ill
perhaps an accident has happened! Such possibilities
are too painful for contemplation; but I have nothing to
do, and time lies heavily on my hands.
In this lodging-house drawing-room there is literally
nothing to do; and I feel as if I were away on a stupid
visit, and counting the hours before I should be speed-
ing home again.
Presently I get up, decide that the sky is clearing, and
determine to go for a walk. In a few minutes I am
slowly walking by the sea, with an ulster down to my
heels, and my sailor-hat on.
I like to feel the rain on my face, and to see the green
foam-tipped waves tumbling in with a roar and a rush
MY MARRIAGE.
31
upon the beach. There is a swell outside, and long
breakers are speeding in.
Slowly walking on and on, I pass the rows of white
houses, all more or less rejoicing in titles-painted on
their stucco gate-pillars such as 'Marine Terrace,”
"Sea View," etc. Small rain is falling steadily, and the
mountains are quite hidden to-day in a thick white mist.
I scarcely meet a soul-only one or two of the coast-
guard, enveloped in oilskin, creeping up and down.
With my hands in my pockets, I pursue my way by the
sea, and wonder, with a little smile, what Humphrey will
say when he finds that I have gone out.
A wind is getting up, and the sky shows symptoms of
clearing. There are a few ragged rifts in the clouds,
and the green sea is tipped with white crests. In a few
minutes a shaft of amber light breaks through, and the
world is smiling through a mist of shining rain. Wind,
waves, and sunshine combine to make a glorious pict-
ure as I gaze out seaward, with the wind blowing the
hair into my eyes.
With a reckless disregard of health, I presently seat
myself on the shining wet stones and watch the waves
throwing up the brown seaweed at my feet.
The wind
is freshening every moment, and a fishing-boat goes
leaping past, dipping her brown sails in the water at
every plunge. The mountains can be seen now, and
the mist is rolling out to sea and piling itself up in a
great white bank.
But my thoughts are with the life that I have left behind,
and that goes on without me. I can see it all. There is
Helen, grave and quiet almost head of the house now
that mamma is failing. Poor Helen! Long ago, before
we grew up, she lived her life and dreamed her dream
and awoke to find a grave between her and this earth's
happiness for evermore. And there is Lena, gentle and
pretty, looking out for a prince to come some day; and
Bee dear, darling Bee, warm-hearted and mischief-
loving! She and Jack.and I were ever hand-in-glove in
every madcap scheme. The others in the schoolroom
32
MY MARRIAGE.
-Dora, Isabel, and Regy-had nothing to do with us,
Oh, the dear, happy, untidy old home! In the whole
place there were none so happy as the Curate's family.
A wave larger than the rest rushes up, and I spring to
my feet laughing, covered with spray, and then turn to
go home, walking slowly.
In the dim distance I descry a figure advancing
slowly. It is not tall enough for Humphrey. When I
look at my watch, I see it is one o'clock time for
luncheon. I have been out two hours, and Humphrey
will think I am lost, so I quicken my pace a little. I
had not meant to stay out so long. The wind is blowing
strongly. There comes a sudden gust, and my hat is
carried away out to sea, bobbing up and down.
"Can I assist you?" a voice is saying in my ear; and
I turn to meet the dark eyes of the young man Humphrey
and I saw a few evenings ago.
I am afraid it is gone," I answer, looking after my
poor hat.
46
Perhaps I can get it for you," he says in a very
pleasant voice; and he is without doubt a gentleman.
The wind is working its own sweet will with my dis-
ordered locks, and I know that I must look very ridiçu-
lous, standing without my hat in the wind and rain,
My hat is sailing up and down on the tops of the
waves. One unexpectedly brings it very near, and my
companion dashes in up to his knees and tries to hook
it in with his stick.
•
"You will get wet! Oh, please don't mind!" I call
out; but I cannot help laughing to see him making
desperate and ineffectual efforts to reach the hat,
which is bobbing not more than a yard out of his reach.
The tide must be going out, for it is being carried
away every moment farther and farther out to sea; and
my champion returns, dripping and smiling.
"I am so sorry; but the waves seem to have obtained
undisputed possession," he says, in his pleasant musical
voice. “I am afraid you will take cold. Your hair is
all wet."
MY MARRIAGE.
3BL
I look at him and laugh.
"You will take cold too," I remark.
He is wet to the knees, and water is pouring from his
boots.
"Thank you for helping me," I say; and then the
impropriety of talking to a stranger strikes me, and I
hastily say "Good day."
He looks as if he would like to accompany me; but I
speed away, the breeze playing riot with my hair; and a
quarter of an hour later I fly up the stairs at home, and
with glowing cheeks burst in upon Humphrey, standing
bareheaded and laughing before him.
(6 Have you been in the sea?" he cries, gazing at me
in surprise, but evidently relieved at my reappearance;
and I hastily explain.
"I went for a walk, and my hat blew away, and that
gentleman we met the other night waded in, and tried to
get it out; but it was carried out to sea, and I came
home as fast as I could.”
Quite an adventure! And how bright you look, my
darling!" Humphrey says fondly, passing his hand over
my tumbled locks. "But, Madgie, your hair is all wet.
Go and change your things, my child."
He pulls off my ulster, and I hurry away to change
my dress; and presently he brings me hot wine-and-
water, and insists on my taking it.
I laugh at his making such a fuss, but am grateful
for and touched by his kindness; and I thank him shyly
when I return to the drawing-room, having dutifully
changed all my things.
"You are sure you don't feel a chill?" Humphrey
asks anxiously. "I have ordered a fire this evening;
it is always chilly after rain."
"You forget how hardened and weather-beaten I
am," I answer, laughing. "Why, Humphrey, I enjoy a
thorough drenching!"
"That does not make it good for you."
He is still unconvinced, and thinks me a veritable ex-
otic that will wither and die at the first drop of cold rain.
3
34
MY MARRIAGE.
It is something new to me to be taken such dreadful
care of. The summer before this, Bee, Jack, and I were
wading for crayfish in a wild country stream, and came
home with the setting sun, wet, happy, and hungry; for
colds were unknown in the Alison family. And now I go
out in the rain, enveloped in an ulster, get splashed by
the waves, and behold I must needs have taken a chilĺ
and blazing fires are necessary!
But we are quite merry over our luncheon, my hus-
band and I. We are going to Paris next week·
week—which
is a new unknown world to us both and we have
plenty to talk about. For a moment I have forgotten
the disappointment of no letters, and am actually dis-
cussing, with a pleased face and in animated tones, the
future, in the programme of which none of the dear
home names appear.
"Some cream, darling?" says Humphrey; and he
nearly empties the cream-jug over the fruit-tart on my
plate.
As I expostulate the door opens, and there is handed
in a colored envelope.
"A telegram for you, sir."
""
"Humphrey ! Is that hoarse cry my own voice?
Something has happened! Quick-tell me!"
In a moment my thoughts are flying home, and I
stand, with a great fear of some coming trouble, look-
ing at my husband, with that unknown message in his
hand.
Only a second or so passes, but it seems an eternity
of agony and suspense before Humphrey speaks, as he
tears open the yellow envelope.
My child, this is an answer to a telegram I sent two
hours ago
listen."
In silence I come close beside him and drink in the
few words that form the message from home.
We are all well—a mistake about the letters - love to Madgie
- will write to-morrow."
Humphrey finishes his reading with a smile.
MY MARRIAGE.
35
"You were so anxious, dear, that I sent a telegram
to your mother-and I am sorry I did not tell you; it
startled you so dreadfully."
"Yes," I answer, with a great sigh of relief, holding
the telegram tightly, and reading the few words over
and over again; and then I look up into my husband's
face.
66
Humphrey, you are too good to me. It was so kind
to think of this.'
"Hush!" he says, taking my face between his hands.
"Kind, good-do you think I could be anything else
to you, my wife?
""
There are tears in my eyes; so I laugh, and turn my
face away.
"Humphrey, don't make me cry. It was kind of you
to telegraph home; but, if they don't write for a month,
I shall never get anxious again."
"Anxious?" Humphrey echoes, with a sad yearning
ring in his voice. "Madgie," he says, "I would give all
I possess to have you care for me like that - to know
that I could bring your soul to your face as I saw it in
your eyes three minutes ago-to be to you as much as
you are to me."
The last words are in a low whisper, and my clear
girlish voice breaks in with a little unsteadiness in its
. even tones.
"You forget, Humphrey, that I have known them all
my life, that everything that belongs to the old home is
a part of myself, and what touches them touches me. I
should hate myself if I ever put any one else in their
place."
You do not understand, child," Humphrey answers
very gently. "You do not dream of what it is to love
with one's whole heart and soul, to live for one face,
one voice for one person to have the power to make
your life happiness or misery." His voice falters in in-
tensity as he proceeds. "You do not know this, Madgie
the sweet and bitter pain of the love that can in truth
come to man or woman but once in a lifetime."
{
36
MY MARRIAGE.
t
f
“No,” I answer in a low, solemn voice, "I do not
know it," and think in my heart, "Thank goodness I
don't!"
¡¡ Humphrey," I whisper, slipping my hand into his,
"tell me what you wish me to be?"
For a moment he gazes down into my upturned face,
and then a smile dawns in his eyes.
"To be happy," he says gently. "Your lips and eyes
are meant for smiles, Madgie, and, please Heaven, I will
never give you cause to weep!"
Love and happiness! Are the two inseparable? Can
one not be happy if one does not love? If one loves,
can one be happy? It is a problem I cannot solve
the sweet bitterness of a heart's great passion that can
count it better "to have loved and lost than never to
have loved at all." I am heart-whole and fancy free,
my soul untouched by the fire of human love as yet.
THE
CHAPTER V.
'HE dreamy days go by. Humphrey has sketched.
everything that is to be sketched, and to-morrow
we are going away. Our boxes are packed, Humphrey's
head has been bent over Bradshaw for hours; but all
is arranged at last, and to-morrow evening we say good-
by to the sea and mountains, and start for Paris.
Side by side we are taking a last walk in the twilight,
looking at the opal-tinted sky and shadowy sea.
"Not a day longer than six weeks," I am saying.
"Humphrey, we won't stay any longer."
Six weeks hence I shall be at home again for a short
space certainly at home within sound of the longed-
for voices; and I think it is the looking forward to this
that makes me so cheerful and joyous this evening.
MY MARRIAGE.
937
While I am speaking, the hero of my hat adventure
appears, sauntering along with the lazy indolent action
that seems habitual to him.
I smile as our eyes meet, and he takes off his hat. I
think he expects me to speak to him; but any such ex-
-pectations are nipped in the bud, for Humphrey walks
on steadily, and, my hand being on his arm, I am forced
to keep pace with his long steps or be left behind.
J
"Was it right to bow to him?", I ask, looking up
doubtfully at my husband's face.
"Bow? To whom, Madgie? Is that the fellow who
tried to fish out your hat? Of course, dear, you did
quite right," he replies.
And the hat episode fades out of my mind for a time.
I do not know that in the days to come the whole scene
will return to my mental vision again, and that this same
dark-eyed man is to be bound up with my life.
Side by side Humphrey and I are sitting upon the
beach in the gathering twilight, the waves lapping at our
feet. Humphrey is talking of our future the life he
and I are to lead together in our new home.
"I can hardly believe I am a rich man," he says at
last. Often and often, when I wake in the morning, I
forget for a moment, and think I have to go back to the
old existence, working for my daily bread.'
"
""
Humphrey, will you tell me of your life before you
were rich? "
"}
1
He looks pleased at my putting the question.
"Would you care to hear it?" he asks. "Does my
life interest you, Madgie?"
"Yes," I answer gravely. "You forget how little I
know about you, Humphrey," turning and looking at
his long figure lying on the beach, his grave rugged face
upturned to mine, as I sit straight and erect, my hands
in my lap. .
"My life," he begins, "was merely the ordinary, exist-
ence of hundreds of men, working day after day, and
with no prospect of ever being anything else but a poor
man. I was of an independent spirit, and I was too
38
MY MARRIAGE.
proud to go cap in hand to any of my relatives. I learnt
too bitter a lesson to care to try that again. I think I
told you that old Anthony Carstairs, who eventually
made me his heir, was my father's brother. They quar-
relled when they were young men together, and my
father was turned out of Carstairs. Uncle Anthony was
in the wrong; but he was the elder son, and of course
did what he liked. The two brothers never saw each
other again. My father made just enough by his oil-
paintings to keep body and soul together. He died
when I was three years old. When I was fifteen
a great gawky boy, who spent half his days daubing in
oils - my mother died; and when she was dying she
made me promise to go and see my uncle Anthony. I
think, poor soul, she imagined his heart would warm to
his brother's son. So one day I started for Carstairs,
the old family place that had belonged to the Carstairs.
for years. Anthony Carstairs was not married. He was
a cross, crabbed old bachelor, and was toadied, wor-
shipped, and courted by his relatives.
666
Another beggar!' he said, when I was ushered into
his presence.
"I remember the scene well the cynical old man,
with his hard features and sour expression, and the great
long-limbed boy facing him defiantly.
'I am no beggar !' I cried, looking straight into his
passionate face. 'And, Anthony Carstairs, I will not
insult my father's memory by staying another moment
under your roof!' And, bursting with indignation, I
left him.
'Humphrey over again,' I heard him say; and then
he shouted out, 'Boy, I say — come back!'
"But my long legs carried me away down the avenue,
and I never saw Carstairs again till I entered its gates
as its master."
"Humphrey," I say, looking into his face with glisten-
ing eyes, "I like you for your spirit; if you had cringed
and fawned upon that old man, I should have hated
you."
MY MARRIAGE.
39.
Humphrey laughs a little as he goes on with his story:
"I believe old uncle Anthony really took a fancy to
me, and made several attempts to find out where I lived;
but he was too proud to do so openly; and so I never
knew that in reality the poor old man was pining to
atone to his brother's son. I was struggling with pov-
erty in London from boyhood to manhood for twenty-
five long years, trying, as my father had done, to make
money by my pictures. It was a very precarious living;
sometimes I succeeded, more often by far I was heart-
sick from failure and weary with disappointment. But
one day I saw an advertisement in the Times which
stated that information was wanted of the whereabouts
of Humphrey Carstairs, nephew to the late Anthony
Carstairs.' To my great surprise I found that uncle An-
thony had left me everything belonging to him, at the
last outwitting the numerous relatives who had watched
for his death so long."
Humphrey's voice grows earnest, and he takes one of
my hands suddenly in his.
"It was all plain sailing after that, darling; and now
I want only one thing to make me the happiest man on
earth."
แ
And that?" I say, without the faintest idea of what
is coming. "What is the one thing, Humphrey?”
"Your love," he whispers. "Heaven grant it may be
mine one day!"
*
**
We are in Paris. I have seen all the wonderful sights
of this beautiful city, and am in a maze still, in a dream
of bewilderment.
"How I should have enjoyed all this with a girl-
friend!" I say, still feeling the utter want of anything
in common between my husband and myself, and yearn-
ing for Bee to be my companion in this daily round of
sight-seeing which has become quite wearisome to me.
I am pining for the quiet home-life again. Herein
lies the sting, the gnawing discontent, that not to the
old life shall I return, but to a new home, a new exist-
40
MY MARRIAGE.
}
ence, with this tall bearded man to be my companion for
the rest of my life. He is very kind to me, so kind that
my conscience reproaches me for not liking him better.
'Madgie," he says one day, "what a queer girl you
Don't you care to buy anything in Paris? I
thought ladies loved shopping.'
are !
""
I answer him with a grave little laugh.
"I don't know how it is, Humphrey, but I used to be
always longing for things when I had no money. Even
if I went into the smallest shop I was sure to see some-
thing I wished to have. Now I never care to buy any-
thing and see, my purse is full!" And I empty a lot
of gold into my lap and pass the coins through my
fingers.
When Humphrey speaks again there is a harshness in
his voice that was not there before.
"The wish has gone with the power to gratify it," he
says. And I replace the gold pieces and come and stand
by his side.
Humphrey," I whisper shyly, "may I buy some
presents for them all at home? I don't want anything
for myself - you have given me so much but I should
like to take them home something from Paris."
He hears me to the end, and then speaks in a low
pained voice.
May you take presents home! Oh, Madgie, did
you think that my permission was necessary? Should
there be such a thing between husband and wife as thine
and mine? My wife, my darling, all mine is yours!"
There are tears in my eyes before he has finished, for
his voice is so full of pain. It seems that we are to be
perpetually misunderstanding each other.
"Come," he says, speaking with sudden cheerfulness
that I feel in my heart is assumed, “get your hat,
Madgie, and we will go and choose something pretty for
Lena and Bee.'
The selection of the presents occupies the whole morn
ing; but it is accomplished even to my satisfaction.
Humphrey wants to purchase the most absurd things
MY MARRIAGE.
41
LA
and I laugh at his suggestions. We decide upon a gold
watch for Helen, and I go into ecstasies over the idea.
"Wouldn't Lena like one too?" Humphrey asks, his
face beaming at my delight.
"Oh, no!" I answer, turning away deliberately from
the tempting array of watches of every size and descrip-
tion. "You must not spend so much money, Hum-
phrey."
A sudden look into his eyes brings my speech to a
standstill.
(6
Madgie, you will make me angry," he says in a low
quick voice. "Why do you always speak as if you and
I had nothing in common? Remember that no words
can hurt me so much as a speech like that you made
just now."
He is angry, and I feel quite frightened.
"I will choose a watch if you like," I say theekly. “I
think Lena would like it very much."
He gives no help to me to make my choice; and I am
disappointed, and go up to him with a watch in my hand.
"Do you like this, Humphrey?"
He looks down at me with an odd little smile, and
the watches are chosen and paid for.
"I know what I should like for Bee," I say in a cheer-
ful, friendly manner as we proceed. 'You know, Hum-
phrey, that she writes books, but nobody knows anything
about it except myself; and I should like to get her a
beautiful russia-leather despatch box to hold her manu-
scripts."
So you shall, darling - the best that can be had."
This is chosen and paid for without a hitch. I do not
offend Humphrey with any allusion to the price, and
picture dear Bee's wild delight.
Who comes next?" Humphrey asks, laughing.
"Jack, isn't it? If you were not tired of purchasing
watches, I fancy Jack would rejoice over a silver one.
What do you think, Madgie?"
66 I am sure he would be delighted, but—”
"No 'buts,' or we shall fall out again."
>
42
MY MARRIAGE.
"Oh, Humphrey, how good you are!" I whisper, of
my own accord slipping my hand within his arm; and
he gives it a quick, close pressure and smiles down at me.
Any one passing would think that we are the most
lovable bride and bridegroom in the world. I am young
and well dressed, and Humphrey's face is beaming with
subdued tenderness as he presses my light-gray glove
resting upon his arm.
"And what are you going to get for the mother,
Madgie?"
"a
"Lace," I say firmly, with a feminine delight at the
anticipation of purchasing the delicate fabric
lovely lace cap, Humphrey.
17
"Of course you know what she would like,” he says
doubtfully. But isn't lace a stupid sort of thing, dear?
"Oh, Humphrey !"-and I laugh at his ignorance.
But, when the lace cap is bought, Humphrey insists
upon adding to it a Honiton lace pocket-handkerchief..
"The present would not be worth giving without
that," he says. "That flimsy cobweb is nothing,
Madgie."
}
Humphrey has spent a great deal of money this morn-
ing, and I literally gasp at the cost of our presents.
There are Dora, Ísabel, and Regy still to be provided.
for; but, with Humphrey's assistance, the difficulties are
surmounted. We purchase a silver locket and chain for
Dora, a model steamboat for Regy to work on the pond
at home - I can fancy his face when he sees it and
little Isabel will be happy for some time in the posses-
sion of the waxen blue-eyed baby that I spend more
time in choosing than I did over all the other presents;
for I still have a lingering affection for dolls, and a se-
cret longing to be a child again and able to enjoy such
delights.
This
Flushed and smiling, I look up at my husband after
these purchases are made. This is the pleasantest day
I have yet spent in Paris, for every hour of it has been
occupied in thinking of the dear ones at home.
"There is only papa now," I say next. “Oh,
MY MARRIAGE.
43
Humphrey, please help me! I do not know what to get
for him."
Humphrey gives all the assistance in his power; but
we cannot arrive at any satisfactory conclusion.
"Men are so hard to please," I say, for I am at my
wits' end. "When they are boys, one can give them
pocket-knives. I think I have given Jack a knife every
Christmas for the last ten years.
"A book," Humphrey suggests.
"A book oh yes!" I assent joyfully. The very
thing! Clergymen always want books.
But the difficulty of choosing a volume is so great that
at last we purchase an inkstand for papa's study-table
at home.
"And now you look tired, dear. We had better go
home," Humphrey says; "and we can finish another
day."
*
*
Our visit to Paris is over at last, and we are starting
for home. I endure everything cheerfully — fatigue,
sea-sickness, all the weariness and discomforts for
every moment brings me nearer home. As our journey
draws to a close, I laugh and talk excitedly.
"What spirits you are in, Madgie!" Humphrey re-
marks; and I cry out rapturously -
66
'Only to think that I shall see them all to-night!
Oh, Humphrey, you cannot imagine what it is to be go-
ing home! It is worth while being married and going
away only to have the pleasure of coming back!"
He does not answer, but looks out of the window of
the railway-carriage. Long afterwards I know how my
words pained him, how it hurt him to think that he had
no share in my gladness, that in my heart there was no
room for love for him.
Humphrey is very kind and gentle; and, when he
lifts me out at the little station at home, he says
quietly-
"Here are Bee and Jack come to meet you, Madgie.”
He goes away to see to the luggage, and I spring for
•
44
MY MARRIAGE.
ward and cling tightly to Bee, with a sob in my throat
at the first sound of her clear young voice. Jack gives
me a boyish hug, and then stands back.
"You are an awful swell, Madgie! You don't look a
bit like yourself."
"Come!" I cry, in wild delight. "Come, Bee! Oh,
I can't believe I am at home again!'
""
With Bee and Jack, one at each side, I am hurrying
from the station, when Jack speaks.
"Where is Humphrey?'
I have forgotten him. For a
For a second my husband has
gone clean out of my mind.
"He will soon be after us. I can't wait!" I say im-
patiently.
"Here he comes!" exclaims Jack. And when they
have shaken hands I hasten away with Bee, leaving
Humphrey to follow with Jack.
Down the well-remembered bit of road, in the glowing
evening sunshine, I speed with flying feet, Bee laughing
beside me. And then the familiar gate is opened, and I
fly in at the open door.
"Mother!" I gasp, and feel the dear arms close round
me fondly.
Madgie, my child!”
.
For one moment I cling to her like a frightened
child, and am not able to say a word, for tears will come
if I speak; but the others are clamoring for their share
of attention.
“And what have you done with your husband?" my
father says.
"Have you run away from him, Madgie?”
"He is coming," I answer, looking round me with wet
eyes. "Oh, how I have longed for you all!"
Then I turn and see my husband in the doorway.
Our eyes meet; and I am half repentant, half angry, in
an instant. What right has my husband to expect to be
thought of every moment? It is most unreasonable !
Humphrey looks dismal, sad, and jealous, but only for a
second; then he speaks quite pleasantly to my father,
and tells him about our journey, while I am down on
MY MARRIAGE.
45
my knees, with my arm round Crib's neck, hugging and
kissing him, and hearing Bee say that the faithful ani-
mal never touched a morsel of food for a week after I
went away.
"He is quite fat now," I say, looking up; and Jack
explains --
"Oh, yes! It was only for a week.
after that, Madgie."
He forgot you
I get up and leave Crib to himself. If he can forget
me in a week, his love is not worth having. Still it is
delightful in the midst of them all again to hear the
clamor of young merry voices, to hear "Madgie, Mad-
gie!" on all sides, to listen to mamma saying softly,
"You were sadly missed, darling." But in all the glad
loving welcome I am conscious of Humphrey's tall fig-
ure in the background, and know that his eyes are never
off me for a moment.
66
Madgie must be tired," I hear mamma's voice say-
ing. "You had better let her take her things off; and
I fancy tea is ready."
With Bee at one side and Lena at the other, I pro-
ceed up the staircase, the children trooping after me.
"Regy Isabel, don't worry Madgie!" my father
calls out; but on this first night of my arrival his mild
remonstrance goes for nothing.
On the landing stands nurse, with her welcome in her
eyes.
"You're welcome home, dearie!" she says tremu-
lously for I am the old woman's favorite. And she
asks after Humphrey and tells how she has missed me
in a breath; and, with a great lump in my throat, I wish
I had never gone away.
But not one of them dreams that I am not quite happy,
not quite contented in the love of a good husband.
46
MY MARRIAGE.
BEE
CHAPTER VI.
EE and Lena stay with me while I wash off the dust
of my journey from Paris; and Bee takes my hand
and looks at my wedding-ring.
"How funny it looks, Madgie!" she says.
so strange to have you married!'
""
"It seems
And I laugh, because I feel tears coming, and am
thankful for Lena's next remark.
"And you have cut your hair, Madgie! Do you know,
I think it is most becoming. I wonder if it would suit
me?"
I look at Lena's fresh young loveliness, as her face is
reflected beside mine in the glass. She has a childlike
beauty, with a roundness of outline that is very soft and
winning; and her large innocent blue eyes are childlike
in the extreme. Smiling, she draws down her soft silky
hair to her eyebrows, and surveys the pretty picture with
great satisfaction.
(6
I think I shall cut it. Look, Bee, does it suit me?”
"I don't know," says Bee, who possesses a striking sort
of beauty of her own a laughing gipsy face, with spark-
ling eyes, and brown wavy hair that grows down in a
peak on her broad low forehead. She is tall and lithe,
and in my heart I think that Bee is the beauty of the
family, and prophesy great things one day for my hoy-
den sister.
There is a great "high tea" in honor of our arrival.
The tea-cakes I know are Lena's making, and are as
light and flaky as cakes can be. Lena is a good cake-
maker, and achieves great successes in that art. With
her dimpled arms bare to the elbow, she transforms flour
and butter deftly into cakes that for flavor and flakiness
I have never seen rivalled.
The dear old faded shabby dining-room gives me more
pleasure than would the grandest banqueting-hall, and
the homely fare is more to my taste than the most elabo
MY MARRIAGE.
47
;
rate feast would be. Not once during the whole meal
do I address Humphrey; I shall have him all my life to
talk to, and these other nearer and dearer ones but sel-
dom; I am making anxious inquiries about everything
of interest around the place, especially about my gar-
den; and I am asking after every individual fowl in the
yard. We have each our special favorites, and I con-
fess it was with a pang I gave up all claim to my own
pets when I married.
"I have taken your garden, Madgie," Helen says
quietly; "and it is in good order."
"And mamma said I might have your canary," chimes
in Isabel, in her high childish voice.
I suppose I am very foolish, but this division of my
possessions hurts me ; it sounds as if I were dead. One
has my garden, another my canary; and Jack declares
Crib is to belong to him now that I am gone.
"I should like to take Crib to Carstairs," I say pite-
ously. "I should like to have something I had here;
and involuntarily my eyes go to my husband's face. He
is looking at me fixedly, intently.
"Crib is an awfully ugly brute," Jack breaks in. "I
am sure. Humphrey could get you a much jollier dog.”
"It would not be her old friend," Humphrey says
quietly. “And I think Madgie would rather have Crib
than a new pet."
I give him a quick grateful look, and stoop to pat
Crib's rough head. He is still fond of me, poor dog,
and is keeping close beside me.
After all, there is something very sad in this home-
coming. I am of them, and yet not one of them now.
My high spirits collapse suddenly; I glance round the
table and wonder how it looks every day with my vacant
place. I feel as if I have come back from the grave,
and am standing unseen gazing in at the open door,
with bursting heart to view the place that knows me no
longer.
"If you loved your husband, it would be different.”
A voice seems to be whispering and echoing that sen
48
MY MARRIAGE.
tence over and over again. I do not love him; I know
that if I were never to see him again it would not trouble
me much. When he speaks, when he whispers tenderly
and passionately his great love for me, my heart beats
not one pulsation quicker. I am conscious only of a
sense of weariness, a kind of dreary depression seems
to take forcible possession of my whole being, when
Humphrey talks of love; or perchance the ludicrous
side of the matter strikes me, and I am more moved to
laughter than sentiment.
Bee might understand such things; she "piles up the
agony" in her stories, slaying heroes with a disregard
to human life which is reckless and uncalled for, I tell
her often, and leaving the beautiful but unnatural hero-
ine lamenting. Bee's stories are all fire and misfortune,
the possible and improbable mingled wildly together, the
ridiculous and the pathetic going hand in hand. And
they all end badly there is nearly always a funeral
'knell instead of a wedding peal.
"I don't know why," she says, a piteous smile in her
beautiful eyes, "but it comes naturally to me to make all
my people unhappy."
"A contrast to yourself," I have told my madcap sis-
ter often.
Ah, Bee, with all your imagination, do you never
draw a character from real life? Are you so unobserv-
ant as not to see how the wedding-ring on your sister's
finger burns and chafes into her very soul?
Three months ago it seemed possible for me to be
happy with a man I cared nothing about. It seemed
then almost a noble thing to lighten the burden at
home the unromantic and weary burden of poverty-
to leave one mouth less to feed, one form less to clothe,
however shabbily. As a gentleman's daughter - my fa-
ther's income was three hundred pounds a year, and
there were eight children to feed, clothe, and educate-
it seemed possible then to be happy as Humphrey Car-
stairs' wife. Now I wonder if I shall ever know what it
is to be contented again..
MY MARRIAGE.
49
}
There my husband sits, at the other side of the table,
and I think of my first description of him to the others
at home.
"Oh, only a man with a beard!" I told them, on re-
turning from a tea-party where I first met him.
And he is only a man with a beard still
a very tall
man, with a slight stoop in his broad shoulders, as if he
grew too fast when he was young. He is bending down
now and talking to Isabel in the kind tone he always
uses to children; and Isabel seems to have overcome
her shyness, and is smiling up into his face. The light
falls upon his hair, upon his grave rugged features, and
I am wishing, for both qur sakes, we had never met.
He looks up, catches my eye, and smiles. Some mes-
meric power always seems to inform Humphrey when I
am looking at him, and I sincerely trust that my face
tells no tales. I am afraid it does, for a sorrowful smile
comes into his eyes—a sort of dumb appeal for some-
thing I cannot understand.. I am selfish enough, but I
pity my husband from the bottom of my soul. It must
be a terrible thing for him to have married a woman
who does not respond to one tithe of the affection he
wastes so lavishly upon her.
Humphrey," I say, forcing back the thoughts that
are crowding on too fast, "is our luggage to come to-
night?"
"Yes; they promised to send it up," he replies, as
usual answering my lightest question instantly.
"Would
you like me to go and look after it, Madgie?"
"I
Oh, no! I suppose it will come if they promised,
I say carelessly.
And then tea is over, and we go into the drawing-
room, which is faded and shabby, like the dining-room,
each piece of furniture being a veteran in its way, having
seen hard service for many long years.
The carpet
may have had a pattern once, but the tread of many
feet has worn it to a neutral tint, and I believe it is only
mamma now who still thinks of the pattern as white lilies
on a drab ground. This carpet was once the chief
เ
4
50
MY MARRIAGE.
adornment of the house, when the curate brought home
his bride so many long years ago. It is a dear old room,
with wide square windows, which are open to-night to
let in the warm balmy air.
It grows dark early now; but the dim garden is fra-
grant and delightful in the dusky gloom, and the air is
heavy with the odor of stocks and mignonette.
"Glad to be at home, Madgie?"
1.
It is papa's voice. He comes up to me as I stand
at the open window, and lays one of his thin white hands
upon my shoulder.
"Yes, papa," I whisper, and lay my cheek upon his
loving hand.
•
Poor papa! What a weary toiling life he has had!
His thin face has many a weary line printed on it, and
his eyes smile but sadly now. All his life he has faced
poverty, and he has worked uncomplainingly for many
weary years. His children have grown up around him,
and this world's goods are denied to him still. "Heaven
knows best," he says meekly, and goes on his way with
a cheerful heart and his sweet weary face aglow with no
earthly joy. If his Master gives him souls for his hire,
he counts himself trebly blest, and he will meet his re-
ward in heaven. In our hot-headed ignorance we say
it is a shame that our father should be passed over.
do not think he would care, were it not for the sake of
his family. He never pushes himself forward, never
asks for anything. Shy, proud, and retiring, he goes to
the wall, and the pushing ones meet with success. He
stands beside me now in the gloaming, and he is talking
of my future.
I
"You will be happy, little Madgie," he says, "Hum-
phrey is a noble, good man, and loves you well."
Yes," I falter, and feel thankful that the darkness
hides my face.
""
"You are tired, dear. Where are your spirits?
"Gone for ever," I could cry out, with an agony of
regret for the irrevocable step I have taken; but I only
say quietly, "You forget how far I have travelled to-day,
papa."
MY MARRIAGE.
51
And then Jack calls out-
"
Here are your things, Madgie. Oh, what a heap of
boxes!"
I hear them being bumped into the hall and up-stairs ;
and presently Humphrey comes into the room and walks
over to me.
"Your boxes are come they are all right.”
Humphrey," I whisper, standing on tiptoe, "could I
get out the presents to-night?"
"Of course, my darling. Come along, and I will
unfasten the box for you.'
>>
He is pleased when I show interest in anything; and
I often wish he was not quite so eager to gratify my
lightest desire. As we go up-stairs he says suddenly in
a low voice-
"
Madgie, what were you thinking of to-night?"
I know what he means, but I wilfully misunderstand
him.
"Thinking of! When?"
"You know what I mean, Madgie," he says sadly.
"Shall I tell you your thoughts?"
"You could n't," I answer, with an attempt at raillery;
"for I was not thinking at all.”
"Yes, you were, Madgie; you were thinking how
happy you were before I came. Am I right"— bending
his tall figure a little.
66
Humphrey," I cry in a choked voice, "if you and I
are ever to have happiness, do not try to understand my
thoughts now."
I am showing more agitation than I meant to do, but
I cannot help it; it is better for us to understand each
other thoroughly. In an agony of regret and remorse I
take his hand and press my lips to it, for the pain in his
voice has gone home to my heart, and something within
me cries out against the injustice I am doing my hus-
band.
""
"Humphrey," I say brokenly, "I have done you a
great wrong; I-I will try to atone for it!
"My darling!" he says.
52
MY MARRIAGE.
I think he knows however what the confession has
cost me. It is a strange place for an explanation the
landing of the wide old staircase, where I used to play
at hide-and-seek in the dusky twilight when I was a
child. Little did I dream then that my heart would
ache as it is aching now. ·
I am smiling enough a quarter of an hour later, when
Humphrey and I go down-stairs laden with the presents.
from Paris. Helen and Lena are in ecstasies. Bee is
speechless with joy, and all the others are equally de-
lighted. Mamma scolds Humphrey for allowing me
to bring such costly presents. He laughs, and looks at
my radiant face.
"If you had asked me what I wished for, Madgie,"
cries Bee, “you could not have chosen anything I liked
better!"
The excitement subsides at last into quiet pleasure.
Jack is looking at his watch every other minute, and can
hardly believe it is real. Humphrey has spent money
lavishly to give me pleasure, though the pleasure is but
fleeting, after all.
One resolution I make on this first night of my return
home - no one shall suspect that I am not perfectly
happy; and so I smile brightly, as if congratulating my-
self on carrying off the prize, when Lena says, with an
envious little sigh-
"I wish there were more Humphrey Carstairs in the
world!"
TE
CHAPTER VII.
HE next day is Sunday; and when I go down to
breakfast I find only mamma presiding at the
table, and I know that, according to the family custom,
the others have all gone to Sunday-school, some to
teach, some to be taught.
MY MARRIAGE.
53
"Bee has taken your class, Madgie," mamma says;
"and she seems to get on very well. The children are
very fond of her.”
This sounds like another of the family arrangements
after my death; but I say nothing.
I
Humphrey is carefully attending to my wants; and it
seems so strange to have him waiting on me at home.
He is wearing a frock-coat to-day, and it makes his tall
figure look taller still. It is some consolation to me to
know that, if he is long-limbed and loosely-jointed, he
looks a perfect gentleman—there never could be any
mistake about that—and he has very small well-shaped
hands and feet and a gentle well-modulated voice.
must own, although I do not regard him with favored
eye, that there is nothing plebeian about him in manners
or appearance but then I could not have married a
vulgar-looking man. Although Humphrey is not in the
least like my ideal hero, yet there are times when I find
a positive pleasure in looking at him. It would be very
nice to have him as a friend; then I am sure I should
have a great respect and warm liking for him. While
he is watching over my breakfast, and remonstrating
against my simply partaking of bread and honey, I am
thinking how pleasant it would be if he was my friend
and was married to somebody else.
It is a lovely day with an autumnal haze, which the
sun is breaking through.
"I am going into the garden," I say—I always like
a walk in the garden on Sunday morning before church.
Gathering up my dress and throwing it over my arm, I
go towards the door, and then, looking back, catch sight
of Humphrey's eyes, grave, reproachful, gazing at me,
"Aren't you coming?
"}
It is a diplomatic question, for I immediately turn the
tables on him, and make it appear that I am the ag-
grieved party.
Side by side we saunter through the dear old garden,
fraught with a thousand memories to me the sweet
old, wild, neglected place, with its gaudy tangled bor-
54
4
MY MARRIAGE. ·
ders, its wealth of roses intertwined, which wave and toss
and bend their sweet blushing faces to woo the passing
breeze. It is a very large old rambling garden, famous
for its luscious plums that ripen on the high sunny brick
walls. An old man, bent and infirm, toils daily amidst
the overgrown currant-bushes, and feebly scratches with
a rake down the weedy paths between the high box
borders. Here and there are spots of cultivation that
gleam pleasantly from out of the tangled wilderness.
around. I gaze with loving eyes on every gnarled apple-
tree, on the wall-fruit trees that send up an array of
straight twigs pointed heavenward and waving to and
fro, on every twisted, neglected branch, on the straggling
unpruned rose-trees that brush against our faces as we
pass under the arches.
"These ought to be trained," Humphrey says, push-
ing aside a forward spray that catches in my hair and
holds me prisoner.
With an exceedingly gentle touch which makes each
movement a caress, Humphrey releases my locks, lin-
gering over the task lovingly; and I wonder what pleas-
ure he can take in passing his fingers through my hair.
I glance up at him sideways from under my eyelashes
to see what he is looking like, and catch such a fond
yearning expression in his eyes that a sudden flush dyes.
my cheeks, and, to cover my confusion, I reach up and
gather a half-blown rose and fasten it in my dress. My
long skirt lies unheeded at my feet. It is olive green
cashmere, made serpent-fashion; and, straight and slim,
I bend over the rosebud and do not look at Humphrey.
What a great pity it is I ever married him! I had no
idea he would demand or expect my whole affection. I
cannot give it to him. It is perfectly impossible that I
can love my husband.
The world is very fair and beautiful to-day. Here in
the quaint old garden the autumn sun beams on the
glory of the glowing summer flowers, and I stand with
downcast face and watch the sunlight flickering on my
wedding ring.
MY MARRIAGE,
·55
"Madgie," my husband says, almost in a whisper,
laying his hand lightly over mine.
"Well?" But the saucy smile dies on my lips at the
look on his face.
"Do you remember the question I asked you here?”
He puts the question solemnly; and I answer gravely
and clearly
"You asked me to be your wife."
He takes my face between his hands and gazes on it
oh, so sadly!
►
Oh,
Child, you have driven me mad!" he says; and my
eyes fall beneath the fire that leaps into life in his.
Madgie, Madgie, why are you so sweet, so lovable?
Only to break my heart when I look into the heaven of
your eyes and see their beauty - the sweetest eyes that
were ever set in human face, that never, never smile in
love for me?”
The words, with their intensity of utterance, seemed
to fall from him without will or power of his own; and
before I can say anything he has placed his arms around
me tightly, and holds me clasped to his breast as if he
would never let me go. My poor little rose is crushed
and broken.
"My child, my love!"-and his voice trembles.
"Madgie, when your eyes reproach me I feel like a
murderer. Oh, darling, say you will be happy with me
some time!"
His voice breaks in its deep tremulous pleading, and
tears fall down my cheeks.
"Have I made you cry, my poor little wife?" he
whispers pitifully. And there in the old garden I lift my
head and look up into my husband's face, and force
back the sobs that leap to my throat...
(6
66
Humphrey," I say and my voice is a broken whis-
per, not like my usual clear girlish tones can you
not let me try to be happy in my own way? II like
you now; and in time- in six or seven years
- I may
get quite used to you and be happy without all these "
standing back from him, and indicating by a sweep of
56
MY MARRIAGE.
}
my hand the old house, the moss-grown apple-trees, the
wild unkept garden - everything that comprises the
word "home" to
my mind.
With my eyes swimming in tears, I see but dimly the
expression on his face; but the anguish, the pity of his
voice, hurt me sorely.
"In six or seven years, Madgie! What do you take
me for, that I must wait for my wife's love till then?
I did not say that, even after the lapse of all those
weary weeks and months, I would love him even then.
I do not think it possible that he can ever be one whit
more to me than he is now; but I can find it in my
heart to wish that he had less feeling, or that I had
more.
(6
Humphrey," I cry piteously, my eyes reading the
stern gravity in his,
"what is this love that you say can
make us happy?"
A half-sad and wholly tender smile deepens in his
eyes.
"When it comes, child, your heart will answer that
question."
Then he draws a step nearer, and lays his hands upon
my shoulders for a space in which one might have
counted ten. We are silent; for once I quail before
the expression in his face, and my eyes fall beneath
his.
"Madgie," he says suddenly, in a hard, unnatural
voice, “did you marry me because I could give you this
and this?" lifting one hand and touching the thick
gold band round my neck, and the gold locket his
present that is rising and falling with every hurried
palpitating breath that breaks from me to keep back the
storm of crying that is coming on.
"You have no right to say that!" I exclaim, 'with
passionate, tearful vehemence, steadying my voice and
lifting defiant, reproachful eyes to his. "If you had
J
as poor as a church mouse
""
been as poor-
bringing
out the ludicrous simile with a gasp—“it would have
made no difference with me. Do you think I like being
MY MARRIAGE.
57
rich I who would be ten thousand times happier if I was
Madgie Alison and with them all? Listen, Humphrey
you shall, you must hear me ! " --- for he has opened his
lips to speak and taken his other hand from my shoulder.
"Don't you understand?" I cry vehemently. "Couldn't
you see how poor we were how miserably, wretchedly
poor, with so many to feed and clothe and educate?
Can't you understand what a difference even one would
make? I did not mind the poverty, save for them. I
couldn't die, so I married; and the result is the same —
there is one less at home, and Jack can be sent to
school. That is why I married you, Humphrey, and
not to be rich. Do you understand?
"I understand."-
His grave hurt voice contrasts strangely with my gasp-
ing tearful explanation.
"You could not die; so you married," he repeats
slowly. "Are the two so nearly akin, my wife?”
"The effect is the same one less at home," I an-
swer quickly, feeling as I never felt before what an
awfully solemn thing marriage is. "Humphrey !"
The sudden cry breaks from me he has bowed his
head and covered his face with his hands. Have my
words hurt him?
When he looks up his face is white, and his eyes ap-
pear to be full of unshed tears. I can only sigh and
look miserably at him. It will be terrible if we are
always to go on like this. I wonder vaguely if all men
are like Humphrey Carstairs. I have cried more since
my marriage than I have done since I was a child, and
gone through more scenes; and the more I explain the
more sore and reproachful my husband seems to be-
come.
With an attempt, as children call it of "making
friends," I slip one of my hands into his, and feel it
clasped closely immediately.
Humphrey, they must not think we have been quar-
relling."
“Heaven knows I have no wish to quarrel!" he says
58
MY MARRIAGE.
moodily; and then looking down at my upturned face,
he smiles.. "You poor little soul and are you to wait
seven years to get used to your husband?
At this moment I like him, and the smile that answers
his is natural.
"You will be tired of me before that, Humphrey."
For answer he stoops and kisses me, and our little
storm has blown over for the present.
At the foot of the garden a tiny stream babbles along
under thickly-clustered overhanging shrubs. Humphrey
laughingly dips his handkerchief into the shining water
and washes the tear-stains off my cheeks.
"No one must see the trace of tears on my wife's
face," he says. "It is an unkind, uncharitable world,
Madgie; and if we have our share of troubles, let us
keep them to ourselves."
I agree with him thoroughly; and, when I appear
ready for church, there is not a shadow in my eyes, not
a trace of recent tears to be seen. A hat made up of
dark green velvet and feathers is on my head. I have
everything on to match, and feel that I am looking
thoroughly well and fashionably dressed.
"I don't look as if I have been crying, do I?” I
whisper to Humphrey, as we emerge upon the road;
and I take his arm an attention on my part which he
seems to expect.
He looks down and scans my features.
"I don't think I ever saw you looking so well," he
answers.
The familiar tinkle of the little country church bell is
sounding in the calm still air. The well-known tune
brings half-sad, half-sweet recollections of church-goings.
in other times. How well I know the bare, dreary little
church, with its scant collection of worshippers!
I feel that all eyes are on me to-day-
that many
heads turn as I come up the aisle, with my husband fol-
lowing, carrying our prayer-books, and taking especial
care not to step upon my train. The last time I was
here I was kneeling at the altar, white-faced and reso-
MY MARRIAGE.
59
lute, vowing to love, honor, and obey Humphrey Car-
stairs. I wonder if he is thinking of that day. I cannot
see his face, for I have got past Dora and Lena, and sit
by Bee, and Humphrey is at the end of the seat by him-
self. In the middle of the service it strikes me that I
ought perhaps to have sat by him; but I never thought
of it, and came naturally to my old place between Bee
and Lena. Helen, Jack, Isabel, and Regy are sitting
behind.
The curate's family form a large part of the congre-
gation. Mr. Thorn, the Rector, has no family, and we
children think it hard that papa should do so much of
the parish work, and have so little pay and so many to
keep. But we are all straight, healthy, and strong;
and I think, after all, papa looks far happier than sour,
crabbed old Mr. Thorn, who seldom has a smile for
any one.
Papa preaches this morning one of his own sweet win-
ning sermons; and I listen to his voice and wonder why
I never cared so much before to hear its loving earnest
tones.
For the rest of the day I belong to my own kith and
kin, and Humphrey is forgotten. We girls disappear
after dinner to Helen's room; and for the afternoon no
one sees us, and we talk to our heart's content. When
the bell rings for tea, one idea is prominent in my mind,
that my family look upon me as the lucky member
thereof.
"I wish I were married," Lena says, looking with an
envious gaze at my garments, which are immeasurably
superior to hers. You are so well dressed, Madgie;
and I do not believe in beauty unadorned. You look
a different being now."
"Do I?"
It is a very stupid remark; but my heart is full just
now. How gladly would I hand over to Lena my
dresses, my jewels, and my husband into the bargain, if
I could only be merry madcap Madgie Alison again!
"It is all nonsense about dress,” cries Bee - "I never
60
MY MARRIAGE.
care what I have on; but it must feel awfully nice
to be cared about so much, Madgie. Humphrey per-
fectly worships you ; his eyes follow you wherever you go.
""
"And what pleasure," I exclaim, facing round and
looking at my sisters, "do you expect to find in eyes
rolling after you, following every movement? Bee, it
does very well for stories; but I think it is the greatest
mistake to have your husband too fond of you."
And, as a married woman, of course you speak from
experience," Bee says, with a smile in her bright eyes.
And then I become conscious that Helen's face is ex-
pressing surprise.
“What do you mean, Madgie?"
'Nothing. Don't look as if I had said something
dreadful, Helen. Did I ever mean anything I said in my
life?"
She is not convinced; and, fearful of her reading my
meaning all too clearly, I lean out at the open window,
and see Humphrey sitting by himself, a book beside
him. Snatching at a full-blown China-rose wasting its
fragrance above my head, I shower its dainty petals on
Humphrey's hat, and he looks up and smiles.
"Shall I come down?"
"Not unless you want to do so," he answers; but he
looks immensely pleased.
I hasten down and sit beside him for five minutes, till
the tea-bell rings again; and then I lead him in, and
feel like some one who has captured a bear, and is try-
ing to make the best of it. It is a very unfair thought;
but a husband is a terrible drag on one.
(6
*
*
*
*
*
'Oh, Madgie, how lovely! And you don't seem to
care about them one bit!"
The voice is Lena's; the words are spoken in rap-
turous admiration, called forth by the disclosures that
follow the unpacking of my boxes.
Lena's eyes are taking in every bow and furbelow on
the silk dresses Humphrey insisted on my getting in Paris
he seems to think that a woman's happiness depends
MY MARRIAGE.
61
on the size of her wardrobe
pleasure in being well dressed..
and truly there is some
a
The seventy pounds expended on my trousseau
sum specially sent for that purpose by my godmother, a
maiden lady, who solemnly declared then and there that
by that one gift she discharged all duties concerning me
did not go very far, after all; and it seemed to give
Humphrey great pleasure in fitting me out like a doll.
He put me into Worth's hands, and the result is seen by
Lena's open-eyed amazement.
To be well dressed is, I think, the sole ambition` of
Lena's life; and many and frequent are the sighs and
heartburnings over last summer's bonnets freshly re-
trimmed, and dresses turned and returned again and
again. "Poorly but neatly clad" describes the curate's
family accurately. Lena would look pretty in anything;
her childish loveliness wants little adornment.
It is "Oh, Madgie!" and "Oh, Madgie!" every
moment, as the unpacking proceeds, followed by "How
I envy you!" Bee looks on with a pleased face, and
laughs at each fresh outburst of Lena's.
The silk dresses are all lying on the bed. I hate
them all; to me they are the price of my liberty. But
Lena has a wonderful respect for good clothes.
"Put one on, Madgie," she says breathlessly; but I
decline.
"Put it on yourself, Lena; the same things always
fitted us both.”
Nothing loath, she complies, and adorns her slight
figure in a long black silk that lies trailingly upon the
ground, and is made in the latest fashion. Lena walks
up and down.
((
Fancy wearing such a dress!" she says, stopping to
survey herself in the glass. "Madgie, I wish I were in
your place."
"I wish you were," I answer with truthful fervor,
looking at my sister's flushed, pleased face; and then an
idea seizes me, and I fly downstairs in search of
Humphrey.
62
MY MARRIAGE.
He is reading the newspaper in the drawing-room,
with Regy and Isabel in close attendance; but the
newspaper is laid aside as I appear, and Humphrey gets
up quickly.
"Were you looking for me?" he asks.'
"Yes," I say, looking at the children; "I want to
ask you something, Humphrey."
Anything serious?"-smiling down at me, and lead-
ing the way to the window.
But I find a slight difficulty in making my request,
and grow warm under my husband's pleasant smile.
"Well, what is it, Madgie — anything I can do for
you, dear?"
"Humphrey," I say, plunging desperately into my
subject, "may I do what I like with my dresses and
things?"
"Of course," he answers.
But he does not quite see my meaning; and I lift my
eyes from contemplating the carpet, and see his puzzled
face looking at me.
"May I give Lena one of my dresses?" I whisper,
feeling very mean and shabby, and crimsoning to the
roots of my hair.
"Give her the whole lot of them if you like, little
woman, and I will get you a dozen more.
Give the girls
anything you like; only be happy "-putting his hand
under my chin, and looking at me. "I don't like to see
my wife afraid to ask me for anything."
"
}
"It seems so mean," I falter ;"you have done so
much, Humphrey.
""
"Hush!" and the smile leaves his eyes.
trespass on forbidden ground, Madgie!”
"Don't
But Lena does not become the possessor of the silk
dress after all. On my way up-stairs I meet mamma, and
unfold to her my intentions; and my little scheme is
nipped in the bud at once. Mamma will not hear of it,
and I am obliged to give in, and perforce agree that one
solitary handsome dress would be a most unsuitable addi-
tion to Lena's wardrobe.
MY MARRIAGE.
63
SJ
TH
CHAPTER VIII.
HE afternoon sun comes in slantingly, and rests in
a long shining bar across the floor of Bee's room,
and brightens her brown dusky hair. She is seated upon
the floor writing on a box, and a number of papers are
scattered around. Bee must be "piling up the agonies
to an alarming extent, to judge by the compression of
her lips and the knitting of her straight dark brows.
""
I am lying comfortably on her bed, a book in my
hand; but for the last half hour I have been watching
Bee's face and brown head bent over her writing. She
looks up at last, a gleam in her sparkling eyes, and
pushes the waving hair from off her forehead.
"I think it will do; I have killed him, Madgie."
"Oh, what a pity!" I cry, for I have taken rather a
fancy to the hero in Bee's latest production.
couldn't you bring him to life again?”
"He is buried," Bee answers.
“Bee,
"How
And certainly, after that, nothing more can be done.
"Listen," she says, gathering up her papers.
does this read, Madgie?— 'When last she gazed into
the violet depths of his eyes, they were glazing with the
film of death; when next she sees them, they will be ra-
diant with the glory of heaven. And so, though her
heart may break with fond recollections, she will see him
again, and know him for all eternity.'
Bee's voice is beautiful, reading her own productions.
"Do you like that, Madgie? I wish I could find the
part where the sea washes him in, and just brings him
up to her feet; but my papers are all mixed."
“I think you ought to make it all into a real book,"
I say with enthusiasm.
"You ought to copy it all out,
Bee, and send it to some publisher.”
Bee's manuscript is of the most extraordinary descrip-
tion-backs of letters, tea-bags, margins of newspapers,
64
MY MARRIAGE.
stray copy-books-anything, everything that can be
procured without buying.
She looks ruefully at the mass as I speak.
"I don't like to ask papa for money," she says, her
cheeks flushing. "You see he does not know I am
writing. But, Madgie, do you really think it would do
for a book?" she winds up, looking into my face with
her radiant eyes.
"Yes," I answer, leaning back upon the pillow, my arms
under my head, and gazing lovingly at my sister's bright
beautiful face. "Is it all full of love and lovers, Bee?"
"Yes, from 'find to finish""-laughing gleefully;
and then gravely "Madgie, I wish I had a lover of
my own; it would be a great help to me to have some
idea of what they really say."
–
Bee speaks as if she were discussing the habits of
some animal in natural history, and I cannot help laugh-
ing at her.
"You ought to know," she says. "Of course you and
Humphrey make love to each other?”
(C Bee," I re-
"Make love!" I echo aloud; and then I say to my-
self, "Fancy making love to Humphrey !"
sume and my voice is solemn
book without a man in it at all?"
couldn't
you write a
"Without a man!" - and Bee's eyes open wide. "In
that case, Madgie, it would be no book."
I seem to have taken up wrong views of the subject,
or Bee has; any way, we do not agree. I cannot see
that the climax of this life's happiness is a wedding ; but
perhaps there is something wanting in my nature.
All
books drive hard and fast to the ultimate wedding peal;
possibly as each bride and bridegroom leave the church
they find out their mistake.
(6
Bee," I say, to change the subject, "you ought to
send that story to be published."
Bee's face flushes a rosy red.
"I will some day," she answers.
I remember poor Bee's lack of foolscap paper, and
resolve to supply the want. She has gone back to her
scribbling.
MY MARRIAGE.
$5
3
“You have killed him; can't you stop now??" I say.
Don't hi him now he is down.
Bee laughs and her pen flies faster than ever.
"I have not finished her yet," she answers. “The
-poor heroine has to be left lamenting over his tomb.”
Bee laughs, over her imaginary characters; but they are
real living men and women to her while they last; and
I leave her to "pile up" further "agonies," and, on
pretext of taking a walk, hurry off to the town and make
straight for Mr. Jones's well-known shop where station-
ery and such-like commodities may be had also valen-
tines, Christmas cards, and various fancy articles.
f
As I go into the shop in my own impetuous fashion,
with Crib as of old leaping and barking before me, old
Mr. Jones rises precipitately and pushes his spectacles
up to the top of his bald forehead.
"You're welcome home, Miss Madgie," he says
"Mrs. Carstairs, I mean. Can I do anything for you
this evening, ma'am?"
And all the time he is craning his neck and trying to
look round the corner. I suppose he fancies Humphrey
is outside, and is trying to get a peep at him.
"Have you foolscap paper?" I ask, taking out my
purse with the agreeable consciousness of being able to
pay for what I want. In the old days our hoarded six-
pences were always far below the mark required. Now
I am in a position to buy up Mr. Jones's whole shop,
and Mr. Jones himself, I feel too, at a valuation.
He dives into a recess, and produces a goodly, pile of
the coveted foolscap paper.
"How much?" I say, thinking of darling Bee's delight.
"How many quires, miss? I will count."
"I want it all. What is the price?"
I fancy I have bought up his whole stock, and feel a
delicious sense of satisfaction at the thought.
"Shall I send it up now, Mrs. Carstairs?" asks Mr.
Jones, bringing out my name without any doubt or mis-
take my new name that I myself cannot get accus
tomed to yet.
5
66
MY MARRIAGE.
"I will take it myself," I say, and, on his remonstrat-
ing, insist; for I know, if I trust to Mr. Jones sending
up the parcel, Bee will have to wait for her foolscap.
"It is too heavy indeed, miss," he asserts. But I
gather up the parcel in my strong young arms, and stẹp
gleefully out into the sunshine, delighted with my pur-
chase.
It is rather heavy, and my arms ache and my cheek's
grow very warm after a short time; but I struggle on
bravely, and presently espy Humphrey coming with long
strides towards ine; and, for once in my life, I am glad
to see him, and smile up a welcome into his astonished
face as I reach him and he reaches me, gasping under
my load.
"In the name of goodness, child, what have you got?"
he says, taking the ponderous parcel from my arms.
Foolscap paper for Bee," I gasp out.
"It is hardly fair of Bee to make you her messenger."
His tone is resentful, and I flame up at once in hot
championship of the absent.
"Bee didn't. She never knew I was coming, Hum-
phrey. How could you think such a thing of her?"
"I don't know that I did think it," he answers in a
different voice. "I was vexed, my darling, to see you
laboring home carrying a stone weight. Why did you
not ask me to go with you?"
"I never thought of you," I reply, with more truth
than pleasantness. "Bee had no paper. I knew she
was longing for it; and so I flew off and got all that”
looking at the parcel reposing under Humphrey's stal-
wart arm.
You are good to every one but me," he says in a low
voice.
""
For a few moments we pursue our way in silence.
"Why didn't they send this stuff up to the house?
he says presently. "You have tired and overheated
yourself."
"What does it signify?" I answer a little crossly "I
will carry it if you are tired, Humphrey."
MY MARRIAGE.
67
It is an unfair hit; but I am getting a little out of
temper.
"Give it to me," I say, reaching up and laying forci-
ble hands on the parcel. But Humphrey shifts it to the
other arm.
"Don't be foolish, Madgie. And may I ask what Bee
means to do with this enormous supply?"
He is speaking quite pleasantly; but I put the worst
construction on his words, and answer accordingly.
"If Bee had not wanted the paper, I should never
have got it; and, if I had for one moment thought you
would have objected to my buying it for her, I would
never have got one single sheet."
It is a mean, unwarrantable speech; and I am ashamed
of it the moment the words are out of my mouth. I do
not look at Humphrey, but straight in front of me.
Still, when I hear his voice, I know what his face is like.
Madgie, did you mean that?"
•
No answer; I have closed my lips tightly.
"Don't you know," he says gently, in a weary pained.
voice, “that I am only too glad for you to be happy in
any way you choose? Madgie, what is mine is yours
and I never thought my wife could so deliberately wound
me."
'Something compels me to turn and look at him, and
I meet the gaze of two sorrowful gray eyes.
I did not mean one word of my cruel, unwife-like
speech; and, when I see the pain in my husband's face,
I say quickly in justification, with tearful earnestness
Humphrey, I wish I had died before I said that to
(6
you!"
"Did you mean it?" he repeats, his eyes and lips
softening as he reads the repentance in my face.
"You know I couldn't mean it; and I only said the
nastiest thing I could think of to make you cross.".
It is a very lame explanation; but he is satisfied.
"Madgie," he whispers, "will you promise never to
say a thing like that again? You don't know, my child,
how such words from your lips hurt me.”
68
MY MARRIAGE.
I brush away a few rising tears, and speak in a very
subdued faltering voice.
"I will never say anything so untrue again, Hum-
phrey. I do not care for you as people in books care
for each other; but I do know how good you are, and
you aren't angry with me now, are you?
Angry with you? Oh, Madgie, the 'caring' is not
only in books it is in real life often enough!
It is the old weary subject again; and I walk with
downcast face and throbbing heart, my tall husband
towering beside me, along the well-known road that my
feet have trodden so lightly many times before I was
discontented and wretched and miserable before I
was married. Crib jogs on contentedly in the dust,
looking round now and then and wagging his stump of
a tail. All the pleasure has been taken out of my pur-
chase and I had pictured such a blissful moment-
when Bee's eyes rested on the pile of paper.
A long deep sigh reaches ears not meant to hear.
Humphrey's voice is very gentle when he speaks.
"I am afraid you are tired, darling."
Oh, no!" with a woe-begone smile. "I tired!"
The idea contains elements of amusement.
A few months ago I had not such a word in my
dictionary; and now it is not bodily fatigue, but men-
tal depression that makes me heart-sick and weary often.
I have ceased to take any interest in life. The pres-
ent has no charms for me; the past is too sweet to
trust myself to dwell upon it; and, as for the future, I'
see a long vista of dull dismal years, springs, summers,
autumns, and Christmases, during which time I am
getting used to Humphrey. I wonder if his thoughts.
are like mine, and if his mind is still resting on my un-
kind speech of a few minutes ago.
>
>
If I ask him, I know he will hark back, and that
eventually the conversation will come round to the old
subject. He loves me, and I do not love him. He
himself spares me the trouble of thinking of anything-
safe and suitable to say.
MY MARRIAGE
69
“'¹Will
Madgie?"
£
you be ready to come home next week,
"Home! I echo in astonishment. “Why, I am at
home! Oh, you mean Carstairs!" The last few words
are spoken in blank disappointment.
"I mean our home," he says, quietly still, though a
little sadly. "And you won't be going away for ever,
Madgie. You will see your own people often, and the
girls will be coming to stay with us when you like."
"C
27
Oh, may I ask Bee and Lena soon, very soon? I
exclaim. Humphrey, I should love Carstairs if I had
Bee and Lena with me."
I am aglow with sudden pleasurable excitement at the
prospect. Why, it would be hardly like being married
if I could take some of them with me to make the new
house home-like with their dear voices !
"I hope you will love Carstairs for its own sake,”
Humphrey says. "It is a grand old place, Madgie.
But, dear, I should like to have you all to myself for a
few months till after Christmas and then you can
have the girls for a long visit.”
I turn away my head, and feel a choking sensation in
my throat. My husband knows full well that, when Bee
and Lena come to Carstairs, their society will make up
the pleasure of my existence. "I should like to have
you all to myself." They were loving words, whispered
in a fond manly voice; but I would rather he had said,
“As I shall not want you at all, have Lena and Bee to
amuse yourself." It is of no use saying anything. I
have voluntarily given myself to be this man's wife; and
so when I speak I think he cannot and does not detect
any of the disappointment in my calm quiet words. .
"That will do very well," I say, as we turn in at the
white gate and go up the short avenue between the high
laurel hedges and are at home.
When we get into the hall, Humphrey lays the pon-
derous weighty parcel on my outstretched arms; and I'
look up into his face for a second, for my conscience
troubles mé still.
>
Ć
12/20
70
MY MARRIAGE.
"You don't think I meant what I said?” I murmur
in a subdued, scarcely audible voice.
•
The color rushes to his face; and he holds me, parcel
and all, close to him for a second, and whispers some
extremely idiotic things into my ear. For such a big
man he is weakly foolish; and, oh, I wish he did not
look so rapturously happy when I say anything kind to
him! He now stands at the foot of the stairs and
watches till I am out of sight.
Bee never guesses the hard words that passed over
that foolscap paper; she never dreams, as she thanks
me rapturously, how hard and bitter my thoughts have
been.
"How did you carry it, Madgie?" she says.
Humphrey carried it," I answer.
"And, oh," she exclaims, "fancy the stories I shall
write now, Madgie! I can rush into print immedi-
ately."
"Rush into anything but matrimony," I say with a
laugh, a laugh that is bitter, wretched anything but
mirthful.
Bee is in the clouds, however, and I am glad that my
rash speech has passed unheeded.
IT
CHAPTER IX.
T is six o'clock in the morning, and the shadows are
fleeing away from the earth. The sun is not to be
seen, and the land is white with dew, and cobwebs
hang like beautiful lace-work from almost every tiny
twig and leaf. The spiders must have been busy all
night, for the gossamer threads sweep every instant
across our faces as we pass through the lanes where the
!
MY MARRIAGE.
[XI
dew-laden blackberries are hanging ripe and luscious in
the hawthorn hedges.
"We" means Bee, Jack, and myself, the three mad-
caps of the family. We have stolen a march on the
rest, and are off on a mushroom-hunt while the rest of
the world lie wrapped in slumber.
"Wouldn't Humphrey come?" asks Jack, as we climb
the last fence and see the mushroom-field before us,
wide, white, and dewy in the morning light.
"I didn't ask him," I answer, springing from the top
of the fence, and feeling perfectly certain that Hum-
phrey would gladly have made one of the party but for
a certain speech of mine last night.
"I am going mushroom-hunting with Bee and Jack,"
I had said to my husband.
It was not the words perhaps, but the tone that pre-
vented Humphrey from volunteering to accompany us.
I am a little sorry to have vexed him; but the luxury
of being once more on an expedition with Bee and Jack
is too delightful to let any other feeling be aught else
but momentary. The grass is very wet, the air cool and
fresh; but the mushrooms show their little white button
faces in abundance, and we hurry over the wide field
and fill our baskets.
I
I have forgotten all about Humphrey, all about Car-
stairs; everything unpleasant is lost in the pleasure of
the moment, and I am myself again-myself in every
sense of the word, for I am attired in one of Madgie
Alison's dresses, and in my own old serge I feel happy
again. The very sight of the worn old garment recalls
many a ramble, many a madcap chase across country;
and, oh, the sweet fresh early morning, with just a
touch of frost in the air, and the trees and hedges turn-
ing yellow and russet! Our mushroom-hunt is very suc-
cessful; our baskets are piled high, and the field is
dotted with the little white specks still.
'We must come another day and get some for
catchup," Bee says. "I am so hungry - aren't you,
Madgie?"
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MY MARRIAGE.
↓
Starving! But look who is that getting over the
stile? It is very like Colonel Trevannion."
'
"It is!" shouts Jack excitedly. "He has come
home! Let's race and meet him."
+
*And off we go, flying like the wind across the field,
Jack first, then Bee, myself last, basket in hand; and
the three of us reach the other side of the field, flushed,
breathless, gasping out welcomes to the tall old man
who stands with a smile on his dear old face and with
his hands outstretched.
66
Well, Jack and Bee too—and you, madcap!".
turning to me. "I thought you were married!"
"So I am," I say in a low dreary voice; and he looks
suddenly into my face with one of the quick searching
glances that send the blood leaping to my forehead.
"When did you get back, Colonel?"
Jack puts the question, with all the unreserved frank-
ness of fourteen years.
"Yesterday morning. And are you staying here,
Madgie?"-the penetrating dark eyes looking into
mine again.
"Yes;-
swer lamely.
that is, we came home last week," I an-
He lays his hand upon my shoulder.
"I wish I had been at your wedding, my child; but I
could not manage to get away. And what is this hus-
band of yours like?
""
"I will show him to you," I answer, as if it was a new
dog or a new bonnet we were discussing.
Colonel Trevannion laughs.
"And when is he to be on view, madcap?”
"Any time always."
My voice is low and dreary still. I cannot rave about
my husband; Colonel Trevannion must see him and
judge for himself. He turns to Bee.
(6
(6
'Well, and how are you getting on with Hector?”
Oh, so well!” cries Bee. "I can jump now; and I
am sure I can ride as well as Madgie. Can't I, Jack?”
"I think you do," allows Jack.
MỸ MARRIAGE.
73
ร
"Did you know I had given Hector to Bee?" asks
the Colonel. "I gave her some lessons before I went
away; and she is so plucky as reckless as yourself."
my horse that had been mine ever since
I was ten years old! I feel a pain at my heart to
think he has changed hands.
1
Hector
"I did not know it," I say whisperingly. "I-I am
very glad that Bee is learning to ride."
I belong to them all no longer; even my own dear old
friend the Colonel has transferred his allegiance to Bee.
For years he kept a horse solely and specially for my
use. I was the only one of the family he really knew or
cared about; now I am forgotten. And again I feel as
if I had come back from the grave, and were seeing my
place filled up, my vacant chair occupied. It is foolish
and unreasonable; but tears stand in my eyes when I
hear Colonel Trevannion talking to Bee as once he
talked only to me; and I awake to the knowledge that
I have given everything up and got nothing in ex
change nothing. I have Humphrey's love and ten
thousand a year and I value one about as much as I do
the other.
We are walking back slowly across the field. I am
not talking; just now I am too unhappy to attempt to
be cheerful.
"Madcap, what has come over you?"
I look up, and see the Colonel's dear, kind old face-
turned to me the bronzed old face, with the long
white mustache, and the kind dark eyes I know so
well.
(L
Nothing," I answer. But he shakes his head.
"It can't be 'nothing,' when those blue eyes are filled
with tears, madcap. I never saw your bright eyes dim
before."
"Oh, please don't!" I say imploringly, and brush
away the unbidden teardrops.
I can hear him sigh at my words.
"We miss you sadly, my child," he says presently.
“When I came home, a month ago, Ashurst seemed so
'
74
MY MARRIAGE.
lonely without my little madcap that I was not sorry
when business took me off to London again."
"You have Bee now," I remark, thinking of the present
he sent me on my marriage a gold bracelet studded
with emeralds - and the kind letter of congratulation !
and good wishes, in which he said, "Heaven bless
you always, and make you happy," with the postscript
"I shall never have another friend like my little
madcap."
▾
"Yes, I have Bee," he says quite cheerfully, turning
to my little lithesome sister; "and she is nearly as great
a madcap as yourself, Madgie."
Jack thinks he has been kept out of the conversation
long enough.
“I say, isn't it time we were getting home?"
The Colonel looks at his watch.
"Half-past eight; and I came out to get mushrooms,
but you young people beguiled me. Come, children,
and have breakfast at Ashurst. Kate will be glad to
see you, and I must have a talk with Mrs. Carstairs."
"Don't call me that!" I cry out quickly.
Why? Isn't it your name?"—in a tone of amused
surprise.
"Yes; but call me 'Madgie,' 'madcap' — anything
- any of my old names," I say in a pleading whisper.
He stoops down, and his low-spoken words are full of
pain.
64
Child, I am sorry to see you like this."
Oh, there are some lovely ones!" I cry, and spring
away across the grass to gather three broad white mush-
rooms.
I have gained fully a minute to choke back the tears,
and then I am smiling, careless "madcap " again, hold-
ing up my trophies as the others come up.
"Look at these beauties; and they were arranged in
a ring! I am sure the fairies were here last night."
And all the way to Ashurst I talk and laugh and set
them all laughing at my mad nonsense. And I think it
is better to smile, to hide the pain, to show a gay face to
MY MARRIAGE.
75
the world; for I can bear anything but the grave pity in
my old friend's face. By-and-by I know he will have a
serious talk with me; but just now I can be as merry as
I will, and deceive him into thinking I am in the blissful
state of ecstatic happiness that is generally supposed to
be the chief feature of newly-married life.
"Do you remember the day you met me first? I
ask, looking up at him as we turn in at the gates of
Ashurst.
"I remember it well," he answers, smiling. "And I
wish I had a picture of you standing looking at me,
defiant, pleading, and mischievous all in one.
(6
I was dreadfully frightened," I say, laughing, think-
ing of that day so many years ago, when Colonel Tre-
vannion caught Lena, Bee, and me stealing pheasants'
eggs for private hatching. At first sight of the
Colonel's face Bee and Lena took to their heels, got
over the wire fencing, and flew like hunted hares across
the field, leaving me with my hands full of pheasants'
eggs. I turned and stood at bay.
"He can't eat me, and he dare not strike a girl,” I
said to myself, as he approached, assuming gigantic pro-
portions to my childish eyes.
He looked at the eggs, at me in my pigmy defiance,
and then said, in what seemed to my guilty conscience
an awful voice
“Your name, little girl?
""
To divulge my name meant disgrace to the whole
family; so I looked up at him, and answered firmly, "I
won't tell you," and then cast a look behind to see that
my companions in mischief had escaped. They were
out of sight, and I breathed freely. Take me to pris-
on, sir, if you like; but I won't tell my name, not if
they kill me!"
Then he made the following remarkable observa-
tion
66
Upon my soul, you are the prettiest little girl I have
ever seen, and the most daring!" And then he smiled
and bent his tall figure till his face was on a level
76
MY MARRIAGE.
with mine.
"Don't be frightened, little one; I am not
going to hurt you."
His smile and his kind voice stopped the mad thump-
ing of my heart, and, when he held out his hand, I put
mine into it, and the stolen eggs found a resting-place in
the long grass.
"Do you like plum-cake?" he said next, holding my
hand in a close grasp.
"And will you come up to the
house and get some?"
Very gravely, half doubting, I went with him; and,
before an hour had passed, our friendship had com-
menced. Before I went away I told him my name, and
he only said very gently -
"The next time you are in want of pheasants' eggs,
come and ask for them, my child."
After that a message was often sent for "Miss Madgie,"
and then a groom with a pony for my special use; and
I was always the dear old Colonel's friend and favorite.
We used to have such fun together, such jokes and non-
sense; and he was always so indulgent and so kind.
But now I am his saucy "madcap" no longer. I be-
long to Humphrey, and Bee fills up my place in my old
friend's heart.
J
I think Miss Trevannion is a little surprised when we
all troop in at such an early hour. But it is not the first
time the Colonel has brought us home to breakfast, and
she greets us very kindly.
"You will forgive my not having called on you,
Madgie," she says; "but I seldom go out now."
"But why should you call on me?" I exclaim, and
then it flashes on me suddenly that I am married; and I
-add, in the sad dismal voice in which I always refer to
my present state, "Oh, because I am married, I sup-
pose!" And with these words I laugh right merrily, I
flatter myself. "Do you know, Miss Trevannion, I hate
all this ceremony, and I feel I ought to be formal and
stiff. Please forget that I am married, and treat me
this morning just as if I was Madgie Alison still!"
She laughs, and treats the whole thing as a little joke;
MY MARRIAGE.
77
but I catch a quick look from Colonel Trevannion, and
flush rosy red.
(6
Kate, is breakfast ready?" he says. “These ›chil-
dren are starving, and so am I."
We are all very merry over our breakfast, which is
laid, not in the long dining-room, all oak panels, and
family pictures, but in the sunny cheerful little breakfast-
room.
Miss Trevannion is an invalid, and frequents, every
room that can catch a single sunbeam. She is pale,
faded, and sweet-looking, with that patient serenity of
countenance that comes in the after-years through long
suffering, when eyes that have long wept can smile
again. People say she has had a disappointment, and
has never since been the same. I think it is those who
are married who have the disappointment, after all; and
I wonder at the far-away wistful gaze of this gentle
patient creature who has had her life saddened for a
man's sake. It is very strange, and I, whose heart has
never stirred to man's voice yet, cannot understand.
There is no time to follow out the idea now, for it
behooves me to talk and make myself pleasant; and so
far do I succeed that Miss Trevannion remarks
"Your spirits are as high as ever, Madgie."
"6
Higher, I think," I say, smiling, and do not look
down the table at the Colonel sitting behind the ham,
for those sad searching glances of his are too much for
me this morning.
"Did you bring many pretty things from Paris?"
Miss Trevannion smiles as she speaks, evidently think-
ing the subject a delightful one for me.
66
I brought dresses that nearly drove Lena wild -
long silk things," I answer "and bonnets and hats.
I think it amused Humphrey, my buying them.
have bracelets and other things he got for me.”
"He must be very generous."
She is trying to draw me out.
And I
"I suppose all husbands are the same," I answer,
with a half-scornful little smile. And then something
78
MY MARRIAGE.
within me cries out against the injustice I am doing my
husband, and I say, with a sudden change of manner
"He is generous and good and-and everything I an
not."
It is but right and proper that I, a few-months-old
wife, should think my husband a demi-god; and yet, as
I look round at them and speak of the nobleness of his
character, I am thinking what a wretched pitiful thing
this marriage of mine is.
"Why did not Mr. Carstairs come with you this morn-
ing, dear?"
(6
How determined she is to harp on this one theme!
'He did not come because I wanted to have one day
with Bee and Jack; and so we ran away."
(6
Very unseemly conduct for a married lady. He
has not tamed you yet, Madgie," she says, laughing.
I exclaim, with more truth than prudence-
66
Oh, please don't remind me that I am married! For
one day let me try to forget the fact.”
I laugh as I speak; but the laugh dies suddenly on
my lips.
There is a little stir behind, and I turn and
see my husband standing in the doorway. Our eyes
meet, and I know by the pained reproachful look in
Humphrey's face that my last speech has been over-
heard, and that the careless words have gone home.
And when I look away I see another thing, and know
that Colonel Trevannion has seen and understood.
Papa is with Humphrey. I hear papa telling the
Colonel that the lodge-keeper informed them we were
at Ashurst. Then he introduces Humphrey, and they
are all talking; and I feel a weight at my heart, and
start when Humphrey speaks to me; and I send a
look at him, intending to convey a world of sorrowful
repentance, which he seems to understand, for a softer
expression steals over his face.
say "Yes
"Was the mushroom-hunt a success?" he asks.
And I "Yes" gravely, with the conviction steal-
ing over me that it is useless to try to be what I used to
be, for no mushroom-hunt or country ramble can ever
be the same again.
MY MARRIAGE.
79
Then Miss, Trevannion draws Humphrey into conver-
sation, and I hear her extolling the sweetness and natu-
ralness of my character; and I think poor Humphrey
has not seen much of the sweet side of my nature as
yet., Worse still, she repeats what I said about him-
self; and I wish she had not, for it looks like hypoc-
risy.
We do not stay long. Papa has his round of parish
duties to attend to, and we all walk back with him. I
have evaded the serious talk with the Colonel to-day,
but he makes us promise to come and take luncheon
with him to-morrow, and I feel sure I shall not escape
then.
I plant myself beside papa on the homeward walk,
and Humphrey walks with Bee and Jack. The morning
has not been a success, after all; the day is bright and
lovely still, but the dew is off the fields, and our pleasure
is gone.
CHAPTER X.
ELEVEN we
LEVEN o'clock; and we are all getting ready for
the luncheon-party at Ashurst.
"Put on something pretty," says Humphrey. And I
turn with a saucy smile.
"What shall I wear, my lord— silk or satin ?”
Anything you like, Madgie, except the old gown you
had on yesterday."
"Humphrey "I am
66
I am standing in front of him, flushed
with indignation I was happier in that old gown, as
you call it, than I ever shall be again!"
"I did not think you looked very happy yesterday."
His voice is quiet, mine is dangerously unsteady.
"I did not mean yesterday. Do you think I have
been happy for one moment since since -
"
Bo
MY MARRIAGE.
"Since your marriage," he breaks in, still very quietly.
"Go on, Madgie."
I'look up and see his under lip quiver; but I go' on
récklessly.
"Well, since my marriage, if you like me to say it.
But that old dress you sneer at was what I wore when I-
was at home before I met you, before I spoiled my
own life and yours!" - bringing out the words with' pas-
sionate incoherence.
But he understands me; for he turns away wearily
and' goes to the window, and' does not speak he only
sighs, a long weary sigh.
"
Humphrey, are you sorry you married me?
""
He turns at the question, and comes back to me; and
speaks in a low voice that somehow hurts me more than
any ebullition of temper would have done:
+
"I am sorry for your sake, child, not for my own."
"You will get to hate me," I whisper sadly, and feeli
his hand closing quickly and tightly over mine.
(6
Madgie, if you broke my heart I must love you
still!" he says; and his strong voice quivers.
I rest my forehead on his hand, and sob out in the
bitterness of my heart
"Humphrey, Humphrey, do you care for me so
much?" And then I am ashamed of myself; and,
When¹ F speak next, my voice has taken its natural tone.
"To go back to the original subject, what shall I
wear?
""
"The dress you wore on Sunday," Humphrey sug
gests, and bends his face over mine. "Give me a kiss,
my wife."
'Oh, what nonsense!". I say, but kiss hin as he
wishes, a laughing little kiss like a butterfly's touch, as
careless' and as fleeting.
Half an hour later I come down arrayed in the olive
green cashmere, with the hat and feathers on one side of
my head.
"How nice you look, Madgie!" observes Léna, scan-
ning me from head to foot. "And what pretty gloves!”
MY MARRIAGE.
}
I am drawing on pale primrose three-button, gloves.
Humphrey comes over and buttons them, holding my
hand very affectionately as he does so.
66
My darling, you are looking quite yourself!" he
says in a whisper'; and I look up at him and laugh.
Then I catch Bee watching us, taking stock for her
next attempt at novel-writing; so I withdraw my hand
suddenly.
"Are we all ready?" I remark, looking round.
think we ought to start."
"I
A little pucker of discontent is on Lena's face.
"I feel so shabby in this old dress," she whispers, as
we all file down the avenue. "And my gloves aren't
fit to be seen."
Lena and Bee have on their last summer's dresses
some soft gray material; the freshness has worn off them
now, and the pink roses in their hats look decidedly the
worse for wear.
"You look very neat, Lena," I reply. "And what
does it matter how one is dressed? Every one knows
how poor we are.”
She makes a hasty rejoinder, raising rather than modi-
fying her voice; and Humphrey hears every word.
"
""
It is all very well for you to talk, Madgie taking
a quick survey of my costume. "You are beautifuliy
dressed. You have everything you want, and then you
come and preach contentment to us."
Lena's passionate little outbursts are well known in
the family; but no words she ever spoke hurt me as
these do now. It is new for me to turn away my head
and give no answer.
We have reached the gate. Humphrey is standing to
let us pass out. I am last, and he stoops and whis-
pers
"That was hard on you, Madgie, and unjust.”
I look up into his face wistfully.
"I am sorry you heard it, Humphrey; you must have
a nice opinion of us all."
He lingers yet a moment, and speaks again:
>
6
82
MY MARRIAGE.
"I wish I could think you cared for my opinion."
And then the white gate slams, and we follow Bee and
Lena along the sunny road. I think Lena is sorry for
what she said, for her manner is soft and gentle during
the rest of the walk; and the vexation at being badly
dressed seems to have worn away. Bee never cares one
straw what she has on, and walks along with her free
graceful step, and her merry gipsy face wreathed with
smiles, though her hat is shabby and her boots and
gloves are not all that might be desired.
We take the footpath through the fields in preference
to the dusty road, and Bee sings careless snatches of
song in her rich, sweet voice, and takes the tumbled
roses out of her hat, twists a bunch of scarlet berries in
instead, and leaves the old roses swinging high and dry
on a bramble-shoot. Oh, my sweet light-hearted sister
Bee! In the after-life we shall yearn to hear your voice
in the dear happy cadence of old. With her bright
sparkling eyes and the red berries in her hat, she looks
like a picture. Humphrey tells her so, and Bee blushes
and laughs. And so we reach Ashurst, a pleasant united
party.
The Colonel is watching for us on the hall-door steps.
"Would you like to walk in the garden?" he says.
"And, children, the tennis-court is ready, if any of you
care for a game.”
The Colonel is very fond of tennis, and plays very
well; so we assent joyfully, and an hour afterwards
throw ourselves down, hot and exhausted, on the warm
grass. Bee's truant locks are in wild disorder, and
Lena's face is many shades deeper than its usual rose-
leaf tint.
"It is impossible to play in a long dress," I say, look-
ing at my flowing drapery. "Bee, you have improved
amazingly."
The Colonel's eyes twinkle.
"Bee and I have been practising," he says.
an hour's hard work have we had."
"Many
"Bee has quite cut you out, Madgie," Lena remarks,
i
+
MY MARRIAGE.
83
leaning back against a tree and fanning her flushed face
with her hat.
I turn away bitterly and look over the glowing flower-
beds before I speak, with an attempt at carelessness.
"Out of sight out of mind.' It is the way of the
world."
Humphrey's voice breaks in softly.
"It is not your way, Madgie; your world was always
very present with you. I think with you it was the other
way Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'"
Colonel Trevannion has never spoken one word, and
I am bitter and resentful still.
"It is a mistake to think any one will remember you.
I consider it is great vanity on anybody's part to imagine
such a thing."
""
"And I," replies Colonel Trevannion, “think that a
true friendship should never be forgotten."
The conversation is getting personal and dangerous,
so I spring to my feet.
((
Humphrey, come, and I will teach you tennis. I
will give you ten points."
He gets up off the grass and picks up a bat.
"I have never played in my life. You must show me
what to do."
"Oh, it is very easy!" I reply; and forthwith the
lesson begins.
So apt a pupil is he that I am ignominiously defeated,
or perhaps I am playing, badly any way, Humphrey
wins; and then we all go in to luncheon.
It is laid in the long dining-room, and the table is
made beautiful with fruit and flowers, the Colonel's own
arrangement; for Miss Trevannion is too much of an
invalid to look after anything, and he sees to everything
in the house himself. During luncheon he improves his
acquaintance with Humphrey. I hear them talking
about pictures; and Humphrey's face lights up as he
talks of his beloved art. I do not understand anything
about it. I know what pleases me, and can tell when I
like a picture; but it is beyond me to talk ably on the
subject.
€84
MY MARRIAGE.
› Lena gives Miss Trevannion a full, true, and particu-
lar account of my Paris finery the possession of which
ought to make me delirious with happiness, according to
Lena's creed. Miss Trevannion is greatly interested,
and I am sure is wondering why I disfigured myself with
my hideous old serge yesterday. Bee and I talk to each
other till Lena has come to the end of her catalogue, and
then Miss Trevannion turns to me.
+
"When are you going home, Madgie?"
"To Carstairs? Next week, I believe," I say, still
unable to make my lips call any other place but one
home.
"I suppose you are longing to be mistress of your own
house?" she says, smiling; and I answer quietly that I
have not thought about it.
J
I feel lonely and forlorn at the prospect of these few
months that I am to spend alone with Humphrey until
the time that Bee and Lena can come to me; but some
barely-developed feeling of loyalty to my husband, a
sensation partly born of pride, makes me put a good
face on the matter; and I am sure that by the time
luncheon is over Miss Trevannion thinks I shall be as
happy as the days are long at Carstairs, my new home
that I have never seen yet. By-and-by, when we are in
the drawing-room, and Bee is at the piano singing, in her
sweet pathetic voice, some quaint old ballad she has
learnt, I hear the Colonel's voice in my ear
"Come to the library, Madgie; I want to have a talk
with you."
་
The time is come. I harden my heart, put on a care-
less expression, and follow him to the library, the shady
precincts of which I know well. Many an hour have I
spent in the deep windows, sitting on the floor in a bar
of golden sun-light, listening to the kind gentle voice I
would far rather not listen to to-day; for something tells
me the coming conversation will be fraught with pain.
'Well?" I say, with a smile, throwing myself into the
depths of a great brown leather arm-chair, so large that
my
slim person occupies but a very small portion of it.
MY MARRIAGE.
85
.. The Colonel stands opposite to me, his stately gray
head bent a little, his eyes on my face.
66
Madgie," he says at last, "I like your husband, and
I am glad he is the sort of man he is."
His remark does not call for any answer. My eyelids
fall, and I twist my wedding-ring round and round and
up and down my small brown finger; the gold band
looks too large for it.
Colonel Trevannion stoops low and takes my left
hand in his.
"For better for worse, for richer for poorer,' 'till
death.' Ah, my child, that vow is registered in heaven!"
·
I catch my breath suddenly. "Till death." That
means till either Humphrey or myself is dead and
buried, and it will be no longer in our power to keep or
break our vows.
"Madgie, do you love your husband?"
"Don't ask me that," I cry piteously; "for it is nothing
to anybody but Humphrey and myself." Tearless and
miserable, I lift my head and laugh, and say, with reck-
less desperation, "One would think the old rhyme is
true, and ''tis love that makes the world go round.'"
"Madgie, this to me!"
The kind, pained tone goes straight to my heart; but
I close my lips and try to look my old careless self.
"Oh, Colonel Trevannion, please don't make matri-
mony seem such an awfully solemn thing! After all,
it is only an affair of arrangement and convenience.
Humphrey and I are perfectly satisfied to go on as we
have begun; and I suppose, if we do live on in jog-trot
stupidity to the end of our days, it will be all the same
in the end."
I speak very fast, and do not look at him, but past his
arm to the wall beyond.
66
'Oh, my child, my child!" he says in a low voice.
"Little madcap, are you so hardened, so world-weary
already?"
He does not know how sad and sore I am, how
nearly the tears are falling. He sees his " madcap"
86
MY MARRIAGE.
grown from a gay light-hearted child into a bitter and
desperate woman, and he does not know the reason of
the change he cannot guess that "madcap" is break-
ing her heart because of the gulf between the old life
and this, that she has married a man she does not care
for, and is eating out her heart with regret. Hardened
and world-weary! Perhaps I am; and I wonder how
soon my husband will find it out.
The Colonel sits down in a chair and pulls his mus-
tache and sighs, while I twist my watch-chain and look
at him from under my eyelashes.
"Madgie," he says suddenly, "have you any idea
what effect beauty like yours has on a person? Do you
know your husband worships every feature of your face
and watches your every movement? I have never seen
a man so thoroughly infatuated.”
"I wish that I were hideous," I say, passing my hand
over the smooth freshness of my face. "If I had been
ugly, no man would have wanted to marry me."
He leans forward, and his words are grave, almost
stern.
"You have been given the perfection of beauty; see,
child, that you do not abuse the gift. You have your
husband's love, the entire love of a good, true man, a
possession not to be despised, and you play fast and
loose with him, my child. I am sorry to have to say it
but I am greatly and bitterly disappointed in my little
madcap."
Two tears roll down my cheeks. In all the years we
have known each other these are the first hard words he
has ever used to me; but I do not let him see how
deeply they wound.
"You had an ideal madcap before," I say in a low
voice. "It was the real madcap who stole the pheas-
ants' eggs and wouldn't tell her name. She was always
frolicsome." And I smile dismally through my tears.
"Nay, she was her own true self in the old days," he
answers kindly; "and by-and-by the old madcap will re
turn again with her merry saucy smile, loving and light
MY MARRIAGE.
87
hearted, and the old days will come once more just as
they used to be."...
and my
No, they can never come back again
tears fall fast. "I am going away next week, and per-
haps you will never see me any more; it is better for
you to think I am changed and hard-hearted."
"Hush, my child, you pain me! Do you think your:
old friend could ever forget you or put any one else in
your place?"
I hide my face on the arm of the chair and make no
answer:
"Listen!" he says. "I will tell you a story of some-
thing that happened once to
a friend of mine.".
He is fond of telling stories that bear on the subject,
so I force back the tears and listen, with my face hidden:
from him, and in a few moments he begins.
•
:
¡
"The part of the story that I am going to tell took
place in an old garden, with roses all around and a girl
amongst them, smiling, beautiful; and defiant, and a
man with her. He is not smiling, but angry and pas-
sionate. She throws hard cutting words at him, and
laughs when the blood rushes to his face, and says more
cruel taunting things to him, not one of which she
means; but he believes every cutting speech, and
thinks, if her love was true, she could not wound with
every word. She maddens him with her beauty, and
her eyes sparkle, and his flash. She is trying him too
far. She knows how he loves her, and so she wrongs
herself; and every word she utters strikes home like a
sword-thrust. She has gone too far, and it is hard to
go back, and she is proud. She utters words that goad
him to madness.
'Madam,' he cries at last and his voice is not
like his own-'before Heaven I will know the truth!
Do you love me or not?'
"His whole body trembles as he watches her scornful
red lips and awaits her answer. It comes soon enough.
The red lips smile mockingly; the eyes that used to be
so soft look up into his own.
88
MY MARRIAGE.
"Sir,' she says, and sweeps a courtesy down to the
grass,
'I could never care for a man with such a temper.
""Farewell then!' he says; and he bows as haughtily
as herself. 'Good-by for ever!'
$
"Just for another moment he watches for one sign of
relenting and none will ever know how his hot young
heart swells to bursting at the stony scorn on the beauti-
ful face he worships and then he goes away, and leaves
her amongst the roses, alone.
"He will come back,' she says, and watches in the
rose-garden every day; and all the passion dies out,
and she longs with all her heart to see her lover again,
to whisper a request for forgiveness.
{
"But he has taken her at her, word, and comes no
more. Three weeks afterwards he sails for India with
his regiment; and, when he has gone, there reaches the
proud lady in the rose-garden a little packet containing
all the letters she has written to her lover but not one
word of explanation of regret."
The Colonel's voice trembles a little, and I lift my
head and look at him.
"Did they ever meet again?" I ask, and he sighs.
"Never on earth. Six months later there came to
him a letter with a few words his love's last message
just to say good-by, and with the pitiful confession
that she had loved him always. Long before he got that
letter, all wet with her tears, she was in her grave, and
his life was all before him still."
He pauses again, and I ask in a low voice -
"Did he die?"
1
"No, he lives still, a poor lonely old man. Ah, my
little Madgie, she was like you; your eyes are often like
hers!"
"Did you know her?"
But, as the question leaves my lips, I look into his
face, and know he has told me his own story; and silence
falls upon usi
He rouses himself first and smiles
quite his own genial smile, but like a gleam of sunlight
after rain.
}
not
{
MY MARRIAGE.
89
bur"It is the first time that story has passed my lips ; but
you put me in mind of her to-day, Madgie. Heaven for-
bid however that you should feel or know the sorrow
she endured, the remorse and regret that wore her life
away. It is forty years ago, but her face and voice are
fresh in my mind and memory still." And then he gets
up, and, coming over, lays his hand upon my head.
have told the story, madcap. I leave you to make out
the why and wherefore yourself."
66. I
I only sigh wearily in answer, and turn my face still
farther away at his next words.
"Take one word of advice from an old man, my child;
do not try your husband too far. Hearts are but human,
and constant disagreement will wear away love."
t
I look up, with the tears on my cheeks.
"Colonel Trevannion, three weeks after the wedding
I told him just what I was; and we perfectly understand
each other."
“After the wedding? Why not before?"
•
My cheeks flame suddenly, and then the truth bursts
from my lips vehemently, as I sit straight up and face
him, my hands clasped tightly together in my lap.
"I am worse even than you think. If I had told him
before, he would not have married me. Humphrey
would hardly have cared to make me his wife if he had
known I married him only to shift the expense of myself
from papa's shoulders to his."
The tears fall thick and fast; but through the blind-
ing shower I can see the pitying eyes grow stern, and
the pain deepen in my old friend's face.
“Is this true? ” he says at last. "Then Heaven help
Humphrey Carstairs ! "
He has no word of pity for me, nothing but grave,
stern blame — only condemnation. Choking sobs rise
to my throat. I gulp them down and look up — just
one pleading glance for a word of sympathy.
"
་
"My little madcap, the child I loved!" he whispers,
and holds out both his hands. Clasping mine tightly, he
bends low and looks into my tear-filled eyes. "Madgie,
go
MY MARRIAGE.
you must give up your life to make your husband
happy. You must live for him, and study his tastes, his
wishes; and in striving to bring happiness to him, believe
me, it will come to yourself. Of all the sad sights on
earth, a loveless marriage is the most miserable. You
have done your husband a great wrong; it is in your
power to atone for it. Oh, my child, listen to what I
say! Love begets love
he cares for you."
and you little know how much
So I give him my promise, and I mean to keep it.
We have a long talk together after that, and my life
looks brighter and more hopeful.
"You will never tell any one what I have said?” I
whisper.
"Not a word of what has passed shall ever cross my
lips," he answers. "But some day, Madgie, you will
tell your husband yourself and that will be a better
way."
WE
CHAPTER XI.
E all go out into Colonel Trevannion's garden
and walk along the shady paths, Bee and Lena
with the Colonel, Humphrey and I following side by
side in solemn silence. He is smoking, and I am think-
ing of the promise I have made to live for my husband,
to study his wishes and tastes. What are they?
come a step nearer to him and speak; and at my words
he takes his pipe from his lips and bends his head to
read my thoughts in my face.
do
I
"Humphrey, is there anything you would wish me to
anything particular, I mean?"
"What, darling?"
I feel that I have expressed myself very badly, but
MY
91
MY MARRIAGE.
!
Humphrey is more far-sighted than I give him credit
for.
"Is this à propos of what the Colonel has been say-
ing to you?" he asks and his pleasant voice is not so
pleasant as usual.
"Yes," I answer in a low voice, not looking at him,
but pulling at a red rose-bud that refuses to leave the
parent stem.
"You will scratch your hands.”
Humphrey's strong fingers break off the refractory
blossom, and I take it meekly and hold it in my hand.
We walk slowly after the others, Humphrey puffing at
his pipe, and I think what an advantage men have over
women they can smoke when they do not want to talk,
and puff away in an apparently good-tempered manner,
while we poor creatures have to tide over awkward
pauses in the conversation as best we may. I pull the
rose-bud to bits, and watch the crimson leaves fluttering
to the ground.
""
"Madgie "the spirit has moved Humphrey first-
'my darling," he says, and passes his arm round my
shoulders, never try to do or be what I like to please
any other man. I am content to wait till you love and
obey me for my own sake alone."
I do not answer; there seems to be nothing to say.
We have gone wrong again. I suppose it is my fault;
but I cannot help it.
Hum-
"You are not angry with me, are you, dear?
phrey whispers. "I want you to be happy, darling; and
you must not think I am a tyrant or a bear, to be petted
and humored. Look at me, Madgie, and say you are
not vexed."
I turn my face, give him a brief glance, and look away
again.
I am not angry," I say ; but I have drawn myself
away from the clasp of the hand lying on my shoulder.
I sigh a long sigh, and then a little smile comes to my
lips. "Humphrey, I wonder if we shall ever be like
other people?"
92
MY MARRIAGE.
"I don't want you to be like any one else," he an--
swers.
"L But you think there is room for improvement?
looking sideways up at his face, and thinking how vastly
improved he would be without his beard.
Improvement!" he exclaims — and, notwithstand-
ing the obnoxious beard, he can smile a pleasant smile,
very grave and sweet. I do not think I would have
you different if I could"—his voice has taken its old
adoring tone.
“Do you mean my face or myself?" I ask—and I am
surprised to find how eagerly I wait for his answer.
"Your own sweet self, Madgie," he replies. "Will it
make you vain, little woman, if I say there is no room
for improvement in a certain lovable and very lovely
face ?"
"C
""
Humphrey I have one more question to put, one
more doubt to be set at rest "did you marry me for
my face or for myself?
He stops midway in the narrow shady path and
catches my hands in his, while a tide of color sweeps
over his face.
1
"I married you because I loved you—you yourself,
Madgie because my life would have been miserable
without you for my wife.”
}
I look up at the passion in his eyes, and perhaps
something in my upturned gaze hurts him.
"Poor child!" he says, and drops my hands sud-
denly.
We hear voices approaching; the others are coming
back to look for us. And, when we walk home in the
gloaming, I am as far from understanding my husband,
and he is as far from comprehending me, as ever.
1
*
*
*
*
*
We are going to Carstairs to-morrow; from that day I
am to begin a new life. Our boxes are packed; I have
on the dress I am to travel in. Crib is not to come with
us after all. In a weak moment I have given him to
Jack.
MY MARRIAGE.
93
“You can get as many dogs as you like, Madgie," he
"Do let me keep Crib."
told me.
66
Very well, Jack."
And I do not know that I much care. If one thing
goes, the rest may as well go too.
I am sore at heart and very miserable to-day. All
day long it has been raining a heavy downpour, with
gústs of wind that bring down the yellow leaves. They
lie in sodden heaps now, and the trees seem suddenly to
have become bare.
>
It is late in the afternoon, and a watery yellow gleam
shines out of the west, like a shadowy smile after ex-
ceedingly bitter tears. The old garden is a very wilder-
ness. The rain and the wind have played rare havoc
in it to-day; and the unsecured roses trail their few
straggling blossoms in the paths, where they lie in pools.
of mud. The wind has laid them low; while all the
apples seem to have come down with a rush, and lie
broken and bruised on the ground. Altogether the
poor old garden has a battered, disordered appearance;
and the flowers look as if the wind had spun them round
and round, for there are little trenches round every plant;
and stocks and overgrown geraniums lie wrecked and
broken on the soaking earth.
I walk dismally up and down, holding up my dress
from contact with the soaking box-edgings. I am very
unhappy, very wretched; and only a great effort keeps
back the tears. It is not cheerful work, contemplating
the wreck and damage from the storm last night and
the pitiless rain all day; but I have come away to be
alone on this last afternoon at the old home, which
somehow is not like the old home any longer; and I
have awakened to the bitter knowledge that I am not
necessary to my relatives' happiness. They are all per-
fectly happy without me even Bee and I counted
and grudged every hour while I was away, and refused
to take pleasure in sights and sounds they could not
share! For their sakes I married Humphrey; and now
they all think that I am the only member of the family
C
94
MY MARRIAGE.
who ought to be happy that my lot is one to be en-
vied. I have come back to them for a while, and I find
my place filled, my identity a thing of the past. Hum-
phrey's love cannot and does not make up for what I
have lost; and I wish with all my heart and soul that I
was Madgie Alison again. To-morrow I shall go away,
my husband at my side, and papa and mamma will say,
"How happy the child will be in her new home!" And
Lena and Bee, and even Dora and Isabel, will think and
talk of Carstairs as an enchanted palace which they will
see some day. In the mean time their life will roll on
in even smoothness; and I may break my heart with
the utter discontent of my new existence, if I will.
I have nothing in common with my brothers and sis-
ters now. Before I was three days at home I found
that out. Madgie, in her character of Mrs. Carstairs,
was a person to be treated with respect, not familiarity.
They have even new jokes that I know nothing about,
and my allusions to any past absurdities are treated as
stale forgotten jests that do not raise a smile now. I
try to think that these alone are the causes that make
my heart swell and send the tears into my eyes; but
there is something deeper still that is rising in passion-
ate outcry within me the knowledge that I have made
my life's sacrifice in vain.
Something has happened to-day which, if it had taken
place a few months ago, would have left no need for
this marriage of mine. Papa has been left a legacy -
an additional two hundred a-year. The letter came this
morning, and the whole house has been in a state of
pleasing excitement ever since - all except me. I am
glad for my relatives' sakes, but miserably remorseful
for my own. If that two hundred a year had been be-
queathed a few months ago, I need never have married
Humphrey. If that distant cousin of papa's had died
only a little sooner! This thought has left me white
and miserable, and I have come out into the old garden
to fight out a fight with myself, in which I have come off-
only second best.
MY MARRIAGE.
95
4
This has been a most fortunate year," Lena said
not an hour ago "first your marriage, Madgie, and
now this legacy."
I smiled and forced back a bitter cry. And I do not
think even Humphrey guessed my thoughts to-day.
How pale you are, Madgie!" he said once.
have worn yourself out with this packing."
64
"You
He would be somewhat amazed if he could see me
now in the sole apology for a summer-house our garden
boasts, sitting on the rickety seat, my face in my hands,
my whole body shaken with a storm of convulsive pas-
sionate weeping, every sob more heart-broken and mis-
erable than the previous one. I have broken down at
last, and the blinding tears rain through my fingers
thick and fast. How am I to live? And to-morrow I
am going away. So I sit and weep and cry to my
heart's
content, till my head aches — and still every breath is a
long-drawn sob. I, Madgie, to be like this, when I am
the fortunate member, the envy of my sisters! It is
strange indeed; but the heart knows its own bitterness.
So lost am I to outward sights and sounds that I am
deaf to an approaching footstep and blind to the sudden
appearance of a tall figure. I do not know that for the
last three minutes my husband has been standing, grave
and sorrowful, contemplating his wife weeping bitter
passionate tears; and I start as something passes close
to my bowed head and I hear his voice.
(6
My child, do you feel it so much as this?"
I lift my wet face and look at him through my falling
tears, but no words come from my convulsively twitching
lips. He takes his seat beside me in the mouldy sum-
mer house.
J
"You must not cry like this," he says at last in a
grave husky voice. "Madgie, it is utterly selfish of me,
but I can find it in my heart to wish this news had never
come."
The news of the legacy! I know what he means;
and the hot blood rushes to my temples, and my face
goes back to the old shelter of my hands
'96
MY MARRIAGE.
"It is hard on you," he goes on quietly. "Poor little
Madgie !"
<<
Humphrey, don't!" I cry, raising my head” and
facing him. "You know it is ten times ten thousand
times harder on you. You have given me everything,
and I am wicked and ungrateful and everything that is
bad!"
$
J
He holds out one hand and lays it over both of mine,
as they lie shaking in my lap.
1
"I won't say I do not feel it," he says, "for it would
be a lie. Heaven only knows how I yearn and long for
my wife's love! But, Madgie, my sorrow enables me to
sympathize with yours. Nay, dear, do not look so
pained and sad. You told me with your own lips that
you married me because of the poverty at home; and
you feel sad and sore because the necessity for that sac-
rifice has been removed. Is it not so, Madgie?"
}
Very sadly he smiles into my face, and I turn to him
suddenly and, moved by some strange impulse, lift both
my arms and lay them about his neck.
""
Humphrey, Humphrey, save me from myself!
And I cling to him tightly, and feel the quiver that runs
through him as he clasps me closer and closer to his breast.
"My own, my darling!"
My face is hidden on his shoulder. I am biting my
lips to keep back the weak cowardly request that my
heart is burning to put into words. a request that
would verily cancel my promise made a few days ago to
live for my husband.
There is a long pause, and then he speaks in a voice
so low and husky that I scarcely recognize it.
""
Madgie, would you be happier here at home? I
cannot take you with me against your will; and per-
haps, dear, some day you will write and say, 'Hum-
phrey, come.""
One second, and I have won the victory; and when I
look up into my husband's face and see the white set
misery there, I hate myself for even that momentary
hesitation.
MY MARRIAGE.
97
"
Humphrey, till I die my place is at your side. And
and don't fret for me; I am not worth it!"
He bends his face, and our lips meet in a long kiss.
"Till death us do part," he whispers softly. And I
answer
"Amen!"
CHAPTER XII.
"WE The carriage has come to
WELCOME home, my darling.
The carriage has come to a standstill, and,
peering out into the gloom, I see a long irregular build-
ing with rows of windows, many of them lighted. The
hall door is standing wide open, and a flood of light
streams down the steps. And, as Humphrey says
"Welcome home," he lifts me bodily over the threshold
of the door, and puts me down in the hall, where two
rows of servants are waiting to receive us. I smile
feebly in answer to their salutations. We have had a
long journey, and I am very tired. It seems ages since
I said "Good-by" to the old home this morning, and a
dismal feeling oppresses me as I look around. There
is a stout person in the orthodox black silk bowing be-
fore me.
“Would you wish to see your rooms, ma'am?" she is
saying; and Humphrey whispers -
"It is the housekeeper, Mrs. Steele."
So I go with her up the wide staircase, and along a
corridor, and then she throws open a door and ushers
me into a large apartment, with a blazing fire in the
grate and wax-lights on the chimney-piece and dressing-
table.
"Oh, what a lovely room !" I exclaim childishly; and
Mrs. Steele smiles.
"I thought you would prefer this room, ma'am; and
the dressing-rooms are off it."
7
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MY MARRIAGE.
A shy-faced girl is standing near the fire.
"My niece," Mrs. Steele explains. "Mr. Carstairs
wrote word that you had engaged no maid; so I thought
perhaps Hester would answer. She is very quick and
obliging."
"Thank you," I say, feeling decidedly awed and
overpowered by the grandeur of Mrs. Steele. She is
very pleasant nevertheless, and helps Hester to take off
my ulster, and wheels up a large chair to the fire.
"You look tired, ma'am, and worn out. Hester, run
down and bring up a cup of tea.”
I sink down upon the chair, and look round with a
sensation of strange wonder. This large house mine
all these servants here to do my bidding!
"Have you everything you require, ma'am?" asks
Mrs. Steele, preparing to leave the room.
will be ready in about a quarter of an hour."
Humphrey comes hurrying into the room.
"Dinner
"Ah, you have made your mistress comfortable, I
see, Mrs. Steele! That is right. Are you very tired,
dear?" bending over the chair. "What a child you
look in that big chair!" he says, laughing.
"Humphrey, I had no idea Carstairs was such a
large house."
Wait till daylight before you pronounce judgment."
He is in high spirits to-night; this home-coming seems
to have made my husband very happy.
Presently I go down the stairs again, my hand on
Humphrey's arm, and he leads me to the drawing-room,
which seems to me to be of gigantic dimensions. The
rooms are all very long and low, with enormous bay
windows that are little rooms in themselves; the ceilings
are raftered with oak that seems black from age. The
furniture is large, old-fashioned, and heavy; and, as far
as I can see, the tables seem literally laden with rare
old china vases, bowls, and plates, arranged doubtless by
Mrs. Steele.
"We must settle all this," Humphrey says cheerfully.
"You know you can refurnish or do anything you like
་
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99
B
only, my darling, try to be happy"-holding my face in
his hands and smiling into my eyes. "I have the pret-
tiest wife in the county," he adds laughing. "Madgie,
I am richly blessed in my old age.”
"You aren't old," I answer, with a little smile that
ends suddenly. "And a cross wife is no blessing. Oh,
Humphrey, what a dear old room this is!"
"I am so glad you like it," he says, and his voice
sounds as if he were pleased.
"Dinner is served," announces a grave gray-haired
butler, who throws open the door.
"Very well, Bernard," answers Humphrey, giving me
his arm.
I am thinking of crabbed Anthony Carstairs, and pict-
uring the cross, weary, disappointed old man in these
rooms, as we are passing through the oak-carved hall
into the dining-room, which is long and low like the
drawing-room, and has the same oak-raftered roof. At
the far end stands a heavy sideboard covered with plate,
shining and flashing from out of the gloom. Pictures
hang on the walls, but I am too tired to do more than
glance at them to-night.
How Bee and Lena will love this old house! How
blithely their voices will sound through the old rooms!
I look down at Humphrey sitting at the other end of
the table, and he answers my glance with a smile. Ber
nard has left the room, and we are lingering over our
dessert.
"I like this old home," my husband says. "I could
fancy a person being very fond of a place like this. My
father loved the very memory of Carstairs."
I am wondering if I shall ever love the place, ever
care for this gray old house, ever think of it as my home,
the sweetest spot on earth.
Humphrey talks of his plans all he means to do,
and the improvements that are to be made; and I look
at him with grave eyes that somehow do not kindle to
his plans; and I listen with a heart that does not echo
to his hopes of the future.
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MY MARRIAGE.
"You look tired; shall we go to the drawing-room?"
I assent; and together we enter the great shadowy
room, and I flit amongst the great antique pieces of fur-
niture, and feel very small and insignificant in the midst
of my possessions. The only new thing in the room is
a piano, and I open it with an exclamation of delight.
"You got this for me! Oh, Humphrey!"
Are you too tired to sing me something to-night?
he asks, coming over and standing beside me.
"
"Auld
My collection of songs is not large. I sit down and
sing the first thing that comes into my head
Robin Gray." When my voice dies away, and the room
is still again, Humphrey speaks.
Why did you sing that, Madgie ?
"I don't know; it was the first song that came into
my head," I answer; and, lifting my face, I meet his
eyes, and they are grave and sad.
"Am I auld Robin Gray?" he says.
"Oh, what nonsense!" I cry, looking at his strong
stalwart figure. "Why, you aren't a bit old, Humphrey!"
"Only forty," he says, with a little smile; " and "my
love is but a lassie.'" And then he adds in a low voice,
"Thank Heaven there is no Jamie to break your heart
and mine! Auld Robin Gray might have been happy
only for him."
*
**
The sun is bright and the autumn tints are all brown
and gold when I take my first daylight peep at my new
home, and see, away beyond the trees, or rather below
them, a broad silver strip that means the restless sea.
Carstairs is built on a height, and half the grounds
seem to be rocks covered with shrubs. Under the win-
dows gardens are laid out in modern style. Old Anthony
Carstairs loved flowers, and his gardens were his chief
delight and pleasure.
I am quite cheerful over breakfast, quite eager to ex-
plore Carstairs. From the breakfast-room we can see
the white waves, and hear the roar of the surf upon the
beach; and I love the sea, though I have never lived
MY MARRIAGE.
TOI
near it, having paid only a few flying visits in my life
time to an old aunt who lived on the coast. How cheer-
ful the house looks in the morning sunshine! There are
flowers on the table, and the silver is very bright. Ber-
nard seems to be a man of taste. I am not a bit tired
to-day, and my spirits have risen wonderfully.
"Get your hat, Madgie, and come out," says Hum-
phrey.
I йy off, more like a schoolgirl than the staid person
age I suppose I ought to be. On the way I am met by
Mrs. Steele, who hands me an enormous key-basket full
of shining keys; and I gaze at her in amazement, and
then dart back to Humphrey.
"Oh, Humphrey, I couldn't- indeed I couldn't!"
"Couldn't what, my child?"
"I don't know," I explain incoherently. "I am sure
Mrs. Steele thinks I ought to do housekeeping."
"Well, darling, and so you will, won't you?"-smil-
ing down at my distressed face.
66
Humphrey, I don't know how-indeed I have no
idea how anything should be managed.”"
"Why, Madgie, didn't you do the housekeeping →
ordering the dinner and that kind of thing—at home?"
Oh, that was very different! Where there is no money
you know exactly what to do - only to make everything
go as far as possible. Oh, please, Humphrey, let Mrs.
Steele be housekeeper! She would manage everything
much better than I should."
"Very well, my child! But, if the dinners are bad, it
will be your fault for shirking your duty."
Mrs. Steele seems greatly pleased at the arrangement,
and so am I; and the cares and responsibilities rest
lightly on my shoulders.
Humphrey and I go off to examine the place first
the gardens, which by next summer, Humphrey says,
will be very different from what they are now. There
are rows of hot-houses in the large sunny kitchen-garden,
and the head-gardener tells us that there is no fruit in the
country round to be compared with the plums, peaches,
0
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MY MARRIAGE.
nectarines, etc., that grow and blush on the red-brick
walls of the garden at Carstairs. We wander all over
our demesne, and stand at last beside the sea, and look
at the green shining waves rushing up on the strip of
shingly beach. It is a wild bit of the coast, this cliffs
and rocks, and the waves fretting and chafing at their base
"It is grand in winter," Humphrey says.
"The spray
flies over the cliffs sometimes."
And then we go back again up the tortuous little path.
"Take care, Madgie!" Humphrey cries.
But I laugh and fly up before him, and stand looking
down as he comes up the cliff-path more slowly and
stands beside me.
66.
Madcap!" he says.
"That is what Colonel Tre-
vannion calls you, isn't it?"
“Yes,” I answer, and grow sober and grave as I re-
member the pained sad look in my old friend's face, the
blame and reproach that answered my reckless, misera
ble speech in the library at Ashurst.
"You have not seen the stables yet?"
“No,” I say, and walk across the lawn at my hus
band's side.
I am unable to take any interest in my new home
I feel only an overwhelming sense of weariness in my
husband's presence, not dislike. It does not amount to
anything so tangible as that. I try to care; I try to
think I shall be happy here, and contented; but the
feeling of depression comes back again and again.
Still I am getting wiser, for I keep my thoughts to my-
self.
"I have got you a horse for yourself, Madgie. I hope
you will like him."
And, when Humphrey has the horse led out for my
inspection, I thank him in a very unsteady voice, for
his constant thoughtfulness pains me.
"He is very quiet, and has not a particle of vice in
his disposition," Humphrey says, stroking the horse's
satin shoulder. "I am sure you will be pleased with
the Ranger,"
MY MARRIAGE.
103
66
"He is perfect!" I exclaim with delight. "Hum-
phrey, how good you are to me!"
The Ranger is a bright bay, with a coat like satin;
and I like him better than anything I have seen about
Carstairs yet.
"I am longing to be on his back,” I say, looking after
him as he is led up and down.
"And what are you to
ride, Humphrey?"
He turns to me a little sadly.
""
At forty a man does not take to horsemanship,
Madgie. When I had the wish, I hadn't the means. 1
fancy driving will be more in my line; but there is a
big brown horse I dare say would suit me to escort you
about the place."
"I think the Ranger is the nicest-looking horse I have
ever seen," I remark, passing over Humphrey's speech.
"Come," he says "it must be time for luncheon,
and there is nothing more to be seen. I must look
after some carriage-horses next week. I suppose we
shall have visitors, and you will have to return their
calls.'
39
"Oh, dear, what a nuisance!" I exclaim. “I hate
visitors! The great advantage of being a member of a
large family is that one is able to keep out of the way of
visitors. Bee and I always fled when any one came.
Lena delighted in receiving people. She would have
made you a model wife, Humphrey."
"I don't like models," he says briefly; and I go back
to the visiting grievance.
"I detest strangers! Besides, I never know what to
say or what to do. Couldn't we live very quietly and
see nobody, Humphrey?"-ending my speech coax-
ingly, and laying the tips of my fingers on his coat
sleeve.
"Would you not tire of living quietly?" he asks. “)
am afraid, Madgie, my society alone would be dull for
you."
"Not when Lena and Bee come," I answer.
But they will want parties and picnics, and "
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MY MARRIAGE.
looking down with a grave wistful smile-"you will be
match-making for your sisters by-and-by."
"Match-making! No, Humphrey. And I hope they
won't be married for years and years. They are far hap-
pier at home than they could ever be through marriage."
"Yes, if they were to marry as you have done."
There is a ring of bitterness and disappointment in
his voice, so I try in my impulsive way to mend matters.
"You misunderstand me. I mean any marriage. Oh,
Humphrey, I cannot help it-I do think girls are far
happier at home! I don't mean myself. And I really
think, now that I begin to know you, that I would far
rather have married you than any other man." My
hand creeps a little farther upon his arm; but he does
not lay his over it as usual.
66
66
Riches, beard, and all?" he says, with a short
laugh. Madgie, do you remember all the objections
you had to my humble self?”
I remember well, and the agony of home-sickness
that burst into words at last while sitting near the sea in
the glowing afternoon. There is a quiver in my voice
when I speak.
"I remember. I was sorry for saying that, Hum-
phrey."
7
His hand comes down suddenly over mine, and holds
it fast.
"We must not fall out on our first day at home. It
would be an unlucky omen," he whispers.
Our first day-the first of all the years that are to
come till "death us do part!" I draw a long breath,
and look away out over the shining sea. When I speak
again, we are in sight of the house; and I look from
our home up into my husband's face.
Humphrey, I will pray to Heaven that I may love it
some day—for your sake."
The last three words are low and faltering; but he
hears them, and a sudden light leaps into his eyes.
"Heaven grant
For my sake," he echoes softly.
that day may come soon, my wife!"
MY MARRIAGE.
105
WE
CHAPTER XIII.
E have been at home a week. Seven suns have
risen and set since I came to Carstairs, and we
are supposed to have settled down.
Humphrey has taken a painting "fit," and spends
hours in a "den" he has had fitted up for himself. He
is busy at a picture while the inspiration is upon him;
and remember the subject well, the sea and mountain,
and the red-sailed fishing-boats becalmed. Sometimes I
sit with him while he paints; but he is very quiet over his
work, and I slip away and wander about, and cannot feel
that I am the mistress of the house. I have rearranged
the drawing-room to my own taste; but it is quaint and
old-fashioned, with the great old arm-chairs and stiff
sofas upholstered in pale drab brocade, and the win-
dows look out upon the garden and upon a labyrinth of
close-clipped yew that looks funereal when the day is
closing in.
Mrs. Steele reigns supreme, and I have no fault to
find with her arrangements; the dinners are excellent,
and my husband is satisfied. But I have nothing to
do, and feel like a visitor. My habit has not come yet,
and the rides on the Ranger are pleasures for the future
still.
To-day I am sitting in the drawing-room, making
companions of two kittens for want of better company.
I have spent the morning in Humphrey's studio, till I
got tired of watching him painting and of contemplating
the back of his head and noting how the picture grew
under his hand. I remember it so well- the spot where
I told him I was sorry I married him. The kittens are
very good company, and frolic about under the sofas,
and play at hide-and-seek in a wildly cheerful manner
round the legs of the tables. I am down upon my
knees diving for one of the little fluffy things under the

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MY MARRIAGE.
1
sofa, when I hear Bernard's voice in his most pompous
tones announcing-
Mrs. and Miss Delacourt.”
I drag back my head and shoulders, having grasped
the kitten by the hind leg, and scramble to my feet,
flushed and breathless, to confront my visitors. I am
heartily ashamed of being caught in such a childish
amusement, and for once in my life wish Humphrey was
with me. So I shake hands with hot cheeks, and the
kitten scrambles up to my shoulder.
Humphrey has told me of the Delacourts, who live at
a place called Ripley; so I know who they are. Mrs.
Delacourt looks a kind placid old lady, not calculated
to alarm any one; but at one glance I condemn Miss
Delacourt as "fast." Her dress is "mannish;" she has
a stand-up collar and a man's tie; her hair is "rolled
away into nothing," and a man's hard hat is set firmly
over her straight dark brows. Her whole get-up resem-
bles male attire as much as possible; from head to foot
she is a girl of the period. But I like her face; it is so
open and frank, with long-lashed dark eyes, a small high
nose, and a mouth that I feel sure can smile satirically
when she wishes. I am puzzled when I meet her steady
smiling eyes; for there is something about her face
strangely familiar to me. I have either dreamed about
her or seen her before. All the time I am listening to
Mrs. Delacourt I am furtively watching the handsome
high-bred face, and wondering where I have met Miss
Delacourt.
Bernard brings in tea, and for the first time I do the
honors in my own house, and dispense tea in tiny cups
of rare china—some of old Anthony Carstairs's collect-
ing. I feel terribly shy and frightened, and have an
inward conviction that Miss Delacourt is taking every-
thing in for future delectation.
"I saw you on Sunday in church, Mrs. Carstairs,"
she says.
“Do you know you were an object of much
curiosity? Every one has been wondering what you
would be like.”
MY MARRIAGE.
107
I laugh a little, and ask if I answer the expectations
of the "everybody" in the neighborhood.
"You are much younger than any one expected," she
explains frankly, in her clear pleasant voice; "and I
heard old Mrs. Blake saying that the Carstairs of this
generation differ no whit from the Carstairs of the old
time. They were always famous for the beauty of their
wives. An ugly Mrs. Carstairs was a thing never heard
of; and "-laughing gayly-"my own impression is
that old Tony Carstairs, as he was called, never married
on account of the utter hideousness of the ladies about
here. He could get no one to come up to his ideal.”
So the Carstairs have always married for beauty
and Humphrey is in no wise different from the rest of
his race! If my smile is hard and forced, I hope Miss
Delacourt does not observe it. She is rattling on, and
Humphrey is the topic now.
"Oh, Mrs. Carstairs, I am sure there were bitter
heart-burnings and woe amongst desolate maidens when
news came that the new master of Carstairs had got
him a wife not out of his own county! For at least fifty
young and eligible girls had seen and marked him for
their own. He dined with us once, I remember, and
I was an object of envy for weeks. It was horribly un-
fair of him; for there are no men here. The great man
of the place, Sir Jasper Vane, never lives at home if he
can help it; the curate went down long ago, a meek
and suffering prey. Chris, they all know, is not a mar-
rying man."
"Who is Chris?" I ask, amused at her account of the
neighborhood.
66
My brother.
He has held out for many years, and
the finger of scorn is pointed at him now. I think he
is looked upon as a hopeless and useless investment for
young affections; and as for Clive, my other brother,
soldier-like, he loves and he rides away."
Georgie dear, what nonsense you are talking!" inter-
poses Mrs. Delacourt.
“It is no nonsense, mamma — only plain unvarnished
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MY MARRIAGE.
truths; and I really think it is a mercy for Mr. Carstairs'
own sake that he married before he came amongst us.
His life would have been a burden to him!"
And then it occurs to me that I ought to make some
excuse for Humphrey's non-appearance. I turn to Mrs.
Delacourt.
'My husband will be sorry not to have seen you;
he is painting, and hardly presentable."
I make a feeble offer to send for him.
but
I know Humphrey would not like to be disturbed, but
Mrs. Delacourt
will not hear of it however, and I am very glad.
"I am so pleased you will be here for our ball," Miss
Delacourt says presently, during a pause in the conver-
sation. "It is my ball, you know, in honor of my
coming of age, and it is to be a great affair. We are
importing no end of military. Nothing like officers at a
dance! Don't you think so?"
"I don't know; I have never been at a ball," I say;
and Georgie Delacourt opens her eyes wide and stares at
me in amazement.
"Never been at a ball! Oh, Mrs. Carstairs, I wish I
were you!"
(6
Why?"— laughing and looking at her.
"Because it will all be so new and delightful to you.
Now I am sick and tired of everything, and, like Solo-
mon, have come to the conclusion that 'there is nothing
new under the sun.'
I look at her fresh handsome young face and smile a
little sadly.
"I do not think variety makes happiness," I say, and
then feel sorry; but Mrs. Delacourt takes up my words
differently.
"You are quite right, my dear; happiness is to be
found only in people's own homes."
And then they get up to go.
a
I hope I shall soon see you again," I say, as Georgie
Delacourt gives my hand a firm strong pressure
clasp more like a man's than a girl's.
She smiles brightly.
MY MARRIAGE.
109
"We are neighbors; so I hope we shall be great
friends, you and I."
Old Mrs. Delacourt takes both my hands in hers.
"I have taken a great fancy to you, my dear, and I
am very glad to have met you.
When they are gone, Humphrey comes down-stairs.
"Had you visitors? I thought I heard carriage-
wheels."
"So you did; Mrs. Delacourt called, and Miss Dela-
I like them very much.”
court.
His face brightens, as it always does when I am
pleased with anything or anybody.
"I am so glad you like the Delacourts; they were
very civil to me when I came to Carstairs by myself.
Any tea teft for me, Madgie?"
"This is cold. I will ring for some fresh to be made.'
'No, I like it cold," he says, seating himself in an
arm-chair, and looking over, at me with his gray eyes,
which grow dark with pain so often at careless wounding
words of mine.
I have not said one cross or unkind thing all day,
and it is pleasant harmonious peace between us still. I
bring him his tea, and sit dutifully on a stool at his feet,
and give him a ludicrous account of the Delacourts' visit,
and of how I was discovered diving under the sofa after
the kitten.
”
"Are you shocked? throwing back my head and
looking up at him with mirthful eyes.
"Not a bit. Oh, Madgie, this is the first real merri-
ment I have seen in your eyes since we came to Car-
stairs ! "
"Because there is going to be a ball," I say, jumping
up and eluding the kiss I see coming.
<<
I thought we were going to live so quietly, and es-
chew balls and all gayeties," Humphrey says, a smile
lurking at the corners of his mouth.
"But I have never been at a ball. I was only once
at a dance, and it was a very small thing. I wish some
of the others were going to be at it too" — I mean Lena
MY MARRIAGE.
and Bee.
"I hope there will be another ball when they
are with us, Humphrey."
"Have as many balls as you like, child, only don't ask
me to dance," he says, and goes back to his studio to
wash his brushes, he says; but I know it is to smoke
and sit gazing at his handiwork, for he is an artist to the
heart's core, and is never happy away from his beloved
art.
Twilight steals down early, and the yew-trees grow
sombre and dark. The old house is as still and silent
as the grave, and I miss the constant tread of hurrying
young feet, the seldom-ceasing sound of voices and laugh-
ter. It is in the interval between the daylight and the
darkness that the old longing for home comes back, and
two tears fall upon my hands as I sit looking out at the
shadowy darkening trees. But what is the use of fret-
ting and being dismal? I spring up, open the piano,
and play the liveliest thing I can think of, though the
tears are running down my cheeks in the twilight.
The strains of merry music bring Humphrey down. It
is dark now, and he cannot see my face, and I play one
piece after another till my voice is steady again. So,
after all, it is a mistake to care much about anything;
and, whether I like it or not, Carstairs must be my
home till I die. I went to the altar with a lie on my
lips. Somehow it seemed right then, though I see how
wrong it is now.
*
Ah me!
*
*
*
*
Everybody has called on us, and we receive hosts of
invitations to dinner. I have met the fifty eligible girls
who saw and marked Humphrey for their own. I have
dined at Ripley in my wedding-dress. It was a very
large and very formal dinner-party, at which I felt bored
and sleepy to the last degree.
Georgie Delacourt tells me that the people in the
neighborhood are raving about me. Humphrey is highly
complimented on his choice of a wife. We are consid-
ered to be an acquisition in every way. And the very
girls whom I deprived of the chance of a husband grow
MY MARRIAGE.
III
bright and pleasant at the distant prospect of future
gayeties at Carstairs.
Humphrey likes to see me admired; it rejoices his
heart to hear that Mrs. Carstairs is the prettiest and
loveliest woman in the county. I am called fresh,
natural, charming; yet I would give all I possess to be
madcap Madgie again, running wild at home.
We go out riding together, Humphrey and I; but on
this point we do not agree. He cannot ride a bit, and
the sober old horse is almost too much for him. The
Ranger and I suit each other admirably; he is full of
life and spirits, and so am I. Humphrey likes to jog
quietly through the lanes, with a safe and steady canter
now and then; and I long to be off, away over a certain
breezy common for a wild mad gallop. So the riding is
not a success. Humphrey finds out that I am not enjoy-
ing the equestrian exercise as much as he expected.
"Would you rather go out with Peter?" he says, look-
ing with all his heart in his eyes, as though begging me
to say "No."
But I am too selfish. Peter is a groom, and with him
( can do as I like.
"I should like it very much sometimes," I answer,
qualifying my delighted affirmative as much as possible.
'You know you don't care for riding, Humphrey, and it
is very good of you to come with me; but, if I go out
with Peter to take care of me, I can gallop across coun-
try or anything; and sometimes we can have a quiet
ride together, you and I."
(6
Madgie, if I allow you to go with Peter, you will be
very careful? ”
66
Oh, yes!" I promise carelessly. And Humphrey
and I ride out together no more.
I think he would be horrified at my reckless horse-
manship, for old Peter stares at the jumps I take on the
Ranger.
"Don't frighten Mr. Carstairs, Peter," I say. "He
knows nothing about horses, and would be certain Į
should break my neck."
112
MY MARRIAGE.
Humphrey is invariably watching for my return, and
lifts me off my horse with a look of relief on his face to
have me back safe and sound again.
We pay solemn rounds of visits together, and the
novelty of my own carriage pleases me a little. It is as
new to my husband as to myself; and he laughs glee-
fully over his own genuine unaffected delight in the pos-
session of all that wealth can buy.
""
"A year ago," he says, "I was poor and threadbare,
living by my brush. Now I am in my own carriage,
with the prettiest wife man ever had at my side, and
"Yet you are not happy," I say laughingly, finishing
his speech for him.
66
'Nay, I did not say that, nor mean it," he answers,
taking up my words seriously.
"It is awfully strange, though, being rich," I say,
leaning back in the carriage and looking up at him as
we roll rapidly and smoothly along the country roads.
To-day I am attired for visiting in one of the silk
dresses that Lena admired so much; and I have on a
velvet jacket trimmed with fur, and a bonnet that only
a Paris milliner could devise adorns my head. I am
thoroughly satisfied with my own appearance.
"What are you going to wear at this ball?" Hum-
phrey asks, as the carriage turns in at the wide gates;
for the Delacourts' ball is the theme at present.
"What am I going to wear? You will see when the
time comes," I say gayly. "There! I promise you will
be pleased with my dress. You know you told me I
might wear what I liked.”
*
*
It is the night of the ball; and I am standing in my
pride and bravery of silk attire.
"My darling, I have never seen you look so lovely,"
Humphrey says, and steps back to further admire my slim
straight self, dressed for my first ball; and I confess to
feeling a thrill of satisfaction at being one of the fair
ones of the earth.
My dress is of my own choosing-thick dim white
MY MARRIAGE.
113
silk, trimmed with ostrich feathers; and the Carstairs
family diamonds flash and gleam and sparkle on my
neck and arms and in my hair. The Carstairs in the
olden time had a mania for diamonds, and the male mem-
bers of the family bought thousands of pounds' worth
of priceless gems, and loaded their wives with necklaces.
and tiaras, the fame of which spread far and wide.
I stand and look at the diamonds flashing and spark-
ling in radiant brilliancy.
66.
Do they suit me, Humphrey?"-smiling at him as
I sweep up and down the drawing-room, taking furtive
peeps at the long old-fashioned mirror that reaches
from the raftered ceiling to the floor. I see my figure
reflected, and the gems catching every gleam of light.
Humphrey comes over and stands beside me.
"They will go mad about you to-night, Madgie! I
wish I had your picture just as you stand now."
"I am so glad you like my dress," I say, thoroughly
pleased, and proud of the success of my toilet.
"The Carstairs' diamonds never adorned any one
half so lovely or so sweet before," he whispers, raising
my face and gazing down at me. "My wife will be the
belle of the ball to-night."
}
“Oh, nonsense, Humphrey; you will make me vain!"
I laugh, as, with tender care, he wraps my white cloak
around my shoulders and leads me out to the carriage.
As we roll away in the quiet darkness, I turn to Hum-
phrey and say laughingly –
I
"I am going to dance all night - every dance."
For I am in high spirits to-night-and surely the Car-
stairs' diamonds never adorned any one with such vary-
ing moods before. One hand lies in my husband's.
have made one or two futile efforts to draw it away; but
he holds it in a firm caressing clasp, and so I let it stay.
I do not know now that the very touch of my warm fin-
gers sends a thrill through his frame, that his whole
heart aches and yearns for one word of love from my
smiling careless lips.
In the after-time I shall know how great this man's
t
8
114
MY MARRIAGE.
love is; now I regard it lightly enough, and trample the
one great passion of his manhood under foot, and send
the whole tide of his love and affection surging back on
his own heart. Every hour of the day I wound him by
my coldness, by the passive endurance of the love he
lays so lavishly at my feet.
R
""
CHAPTER XIV.
IPLEY is ablaze with light, and the avenue is fairly
blocked by carriages, when we arrive. The strains
of the "Manola are being wafted through the open
windows, and I am in a thrill of expectation and delight
as we enter the ball-room; and for the first time in my
life I become acquainted with the scene so new and
fresh to my world-ignorant eyes, so tame and uninter-
esting to many.
While we are speaking to Mrs. Delacourt, I am watch-
ing the dancers surging and swinging past. I see Geor-
gie Delacourt in the arms of a tall and utterly hideous
man, who nevertheless dances well and steers admirably.
Georgie looks beaming, and flashes a smile at me as she
passes.
"May I have the pleasure of this dance, Mrs. Car-
stairs?" a voice says in my ear; and, looking up, I see
Chris Delacourt beside me. And I am soon whirled off
into the midst of the giddy throng.
"The waltz is half over," he says presently. "I hope
you will let me have another by-and-by?"
"Yes, as many as you like," I answer, smiling. "Mr.
Delacourt, this is my first ball, and I am going to dance
all night.'
"Your first ball, really?" Chris Delacourt's face ex-
presses amazement and amusement combined, mingled
with incredulity.
1
MY MARRIAGE.
115
We have stopped for a moment; the room is too
crowded to dance with comfort.
"Really and truly," I say, laughing and looking up to
him.
"Well, Mrs. Carstairs," he says, "you have lost noth-
ing, a first ball is always the best; one tires of them
soon enough-saying the same things, meeting the
same people. I do not know, to tell the truth, what
pleasure any one can find in balls!"
I am beginning to like Chris Delacourt. At first I
thought him rather silent and grave; now he is quite
talkative. In personal appearance he does not resemble
Georgie in the least. His hair
His hair is very fair
very fair the pure
true gold generally confined to children's fleecy locks
and he has dark-blue eyes, grave and dreamy. There
is nothing effeminate in his manly face, his head is well
set on his strong broad shoulders, and he walks and
moves with a natural careless grace that reminds me of
Georgie. Altogether, he is a good comely specimen of
manhood. Frank and pleasant, simple-hearted and
open, he cares more for fishing and shooting, and takes
more interest in farming his own estate than in anything
else in the world.
When the waltz is over, Georgie comes up with her
cavalier in tow. She looks radiant to-night in maize
silk made as long and plain and as severe as possible
but it suits her.
"Mrs. Carstairs, you are looking too lovely," she says,
laughing. "Every one is asking who you are; and the
woe and desolation amongst the male hearts when they
hear you are married are something fearful! I am be
sieged for introductions. Don't think me rude; but
your dress is perfect. And then the diamonds! I have
made a vow not to marry any one who cannot provide
me with diamonds like yours' laughing as she speaks;
and I smile a little sadly, for the flashing jewels cannot
make me happy.
""
Then I look up, and meet a pair of dark eyes that I
seem to recognize, and hear a voice that is familiar to
me; and then Georgie, in laughing tones, says
116
MY MARRIAGE.
AT
"Mrs. Carstairs, allow me to introduce you to my
brother, Captain Delacourt."
66
'I think you have forgotten me," he remarks in the low
melodious voice I have heard once before; and looking
up into his face, the whole scene comes back again and
I see it all
all the tossing white-crested sea, the wind
and rain, and the sun breaking through, and on the
shining waves my sailor-hat dancing up and down.
"I remember you now," I say; and Georgie opens
her eyes.
"I did not know you had met Clive before,” she
exclaims.
"I did not know it myself," I answer, and know now
whose face resembles hers. The dark eyes and long
curling lashes are the same; and I wonder I did not re-
member and see the likeness before. "He once risked
his life to save my hat," I explain, laughing at the recol
lection of the scene. "Captain Delacourt, do you re-
member how you came to the rescue and waded in ?"
I have not forgotten," he says.
(6
Georgie goes off, and I am standing between her two
brothers. At the far end of the room I see Humphrey,
and I can feel that his eyes follow my every motion. I
smile over at him as I turn to Chris Delacourt.
'You promised me another dance, Mrs. Carstairs," he
is saying, and so scratches his name on my programme,
and then leaves me with his brother.
"Shall we walk about till the dance begins?" says
Captain Delacourt.
It is all the same to me whether I walk, or sit, or
stand; I am determined to enjoy myself.
"Fancy meeting you again! I say, as we saunter
towards the conservatory, which looks dim and cool,
and breathes of all that is sweet and fragrant.
“I knew you directly," he whispers; "and you had
forgotten me."
"Indeed I had not!" I exclaim, with more truth than
wisdom. "I have often thought of you since."
"You did not know me to-night," he persists. "I
MY MARRIAGE.
117
was watching you dancing with Chris, and I made Geor-
gie introduce me; and, when you looked at me, there
was anything but recognition in your eyes."
"6
'I was trying to remember who you were," I go on,
ignorant of ball-room fencing, and looking up with con-
trite innocent eyes into his handsome face.
We are sitting in the shadowy conservatory, which is
like fairy-land, with its shaded lamps; and there are only
the murmur of a tiny fountain and the low subdued voice
of a man who has evidently something of importance to
communicate to a girl in a white dress sitting beside
him. Captain Delacourt looks over at them.
"Poor beggar!" he says. "I know him; and he is
perfectly mad about that girl, who does not care one
straw for him. She is a hard-hearted little flirt, and
means to marry money. She will sell herself to some
fellow who can give her things like these - lightly
touching the diamond bracelet that flashes on my arm;
and I wince as with sudden pain, look up at him, and
see — I know not how that he has read my thoughts.
""
I shiver as our eyes meet, and I open my lips to say,
"Take me to my husband," but close them again and
look away; and it is he who speaks first.
"Look!" he says, quick and low. "Heaven help that
poor fellow! She has told him the truth this time."
I raise my eyes, and see a man with a face the expres-
sion of which I shall never forget, and, leaning on his
arm, a tall fair girl in a long white dress. She is pale
and cold, and the marble beauty of her face is set and
hardened. But, as they go out of the conservatory and
her dress brushes past, I see a sudden quiver of her
under lip, and think, if he has suffered, she has not es-
caped unscathed. He does not appear again; I suppose
his trouble is too keen for him to face the world with a
smile so soon. But I see the girl's fair proud face, and
watch her smiling and dancing with other men.
"A drawing-room tragedy!" laughs Captain Dela-
court softly. "Poor Annesley! He did look awfully
cut up."
118
MY MARRIAGE.
I draw a long breath that is, I sigh.
"Can men and women care for each other so much?”
I say, more to myself than to him.
Captain Delacourt laughs.
66
'They fancy they do; and it amounts to about the
same thing."
The band has struck up again.
"I think the quadrille is made up. Do you care
about dancing it?" he asks, as we make our way back
to the ball-room. "Will you come and have an ice in-
stead?'
"
While he is getting the ice, Humphrey appears sud-
denly beside me.
"Not dancing, Madgie?"
"Not this quadrille. And, oh, Humphrey, only fancy
whom I have met! The gentleman who tried to fish out
my hat! And he turns out to be Georgie Delacourt's
brother!"
Captain Delacourt comes back with the ice. I intro-
duce him to my husband. They speak a few words, and
then Humphrey goes away. Captain Delacourt looks
after him.
"The first time I saw you together I thought he was
your uncle," he says. And I think what a delightful
uncle Humphrey would be!
"When did you come to Ripley?" I ask, by way of
something safe and certain to say.
"Last night. I got ten days' leave to come to this
affair. What do you think of our neighborhood, Mrs.
Carstairs?"
"I have not thought much about it," I answer.
The quadrille is over. I see Georgie coming across
the room, with three men in attendance.
"Are you engaged for this?" Captain Delacourt
whispers quickly. "May I?"
May I?" And he takes the pro-
gramme from my hand, scribbles his name opposite two
waltzes, and hands it back with a smile in his dark eyes.
"Am I very presumptuous?" he says. "But you will
be engaged three deep directly."
MY MARRIAGE.
119
Georgie has halted opposite to me, and introduces
the three men in rapid succession. And so the ball goes
on. I keep my word, and dance all night—and not
once, but many times, with Captain Delacourt.
Humphrey comes to me once.
"Will you give me this quadrille, Madgie?"
There is a wistful pleading in his eyes. I am en-
gaged. But, when Chris Delacourt comes to claim me,
I lay my hand on Humphrey's arm.
""
Do you mind if I dance this with my husband?”
"Will you keep another for me instead?" he says,
smiling, and draws back.
So we dance together - Humphrey and I.
"I wish I waltzed !" he remarks regretfully, when the
quadrille is over. "Madgie, you have danced all night.
Will you sit this out with me?"
I look up at him with a mischievous smile, and shake
my head.
"Please don't ask me, Humphrey, for this is nearly
the last; and I could not give it up.'
He says no more; and three minutes afterwards I
whirl past him with the best dancer in the room; and,
raising my eyelids for one second, catch sight of my
husband's face as he leans in the doorway, and it does
not bear its usual pleasant expression. Is he vexed at
my dancing? I do not know; and, truth to tell, I do
not care. Every pulse is bounding and tingling with
new life.
In this mad intoxication of dreamy motion I
can feel annoyed that my husband should look pained
when I am very nearly happy.
Flushed and smiling, I lean on my partner's arm,
and, sauntering up and down between the dances, catch
the reflection of myself in a long mirror, and for a
second gaze transfixed into the radiant eyes that meet
my own. White silk and diamonds, and a girl's face
framed in wavy brown hair! As I gaze, the smile leaves
my lips. Married for the beauty that brings all the men
round me to-night! Ah, well, it is an equal bargain
after all! And yet Humphrey said he loved me for my
own self.
120
MY MARRIAGE.
I sit out the next dance with him, and bring back the
light into his face.
"What do you think of Georgie?" I ask him, as we
criticise the couples gyrating by in a changing revolving
mass. "Isn't she looking well to-night, Humphrey?"
"I have no eyes for any one but my wife," he an-
swers, smiling. "You look tired, darling; let me fan
you."
As he waves the fan to and fro, talking in a low soft
voice, Captain Delacourt passes, looks at Humphrey,
glances at me, and stops.
"Don't forget that the next dance is mine, Mrs.
Carstairs!
"Are you not too tired?" Humphrey interposes.
'No, I am quite rested now; and one waltz is enough
to give up," I return, saying the words playfully; but the
white feather in the fan quivers suddenly in his strong
hand.
Captain Delacourt moves away, and the music ends
with a crash. Humphrey fans me still, but he has be-
come grave and preoccupied. We are sitting in a win-
dow, and behind the thick curtains voices are audible.
Somebody has gone out to look at the moonlight, and
then comes back again.
"Who is that little woman in the white silk and all the
diamonds?" a man's voice says; and a lady answers
shortly-
"Mrs. Carstairs. She is only just married. Every
one is raving about her to-night. What do you think of
her?"
The reply comes immediately
"She is lovely, to my thinking-a very fascinating
style of beauty.
"She is rather pretty," the feminine voice rejoins,
sharply this time, "but looks decidedly unhappy. Watch
her face in repose. You know her husband is old
enough to be her father; and beauty on one side and
money on the other made up that marriage.”
•
Humphrey and I have heard every word, and all the
MY MARRIAGE.
121
time the feathers on the fan move slowly to and fro, and
I feel the cool air on my throbbing temples. Then I
lift my eyes to my husband's face.
"
'It is not true," I whisper. "Oh, Humphrey, it is
not true!" the words spoken in an agony of pleading
earnestness.
66
My child," he says in a low tone, and as if his voice
was steady only by an effort, "do you care what they
say?"
"It hurts you, Humphrey I know it does."
And
I am nearer caring for this grave man than I ever knew
myself.
Into his gray eyes comes the sweet tender light I catch
myself watching for sometimes.
"You are sorry for me, Madgie. Then I do not care
what the rest of the world may say or think."
From out of the window step the gentleman and lady
who were discussing us so freely. I raise my head, and
meet the horrified looks of two pairs of eyes, and then I
smile up into my husband's face a smile that deceives
him, myself, everybody.
"Good Heaven, they must have heard!" I hear the
dumbfounded and conscience-stricken man exclaim.
The lady is equal to the occasion. She surveys me
from head to foot, gives Humphrey a glance of unutter-
able pity and contempt, and passes on.
But her com-
panion is purple with mortification.
"Awkward for him," my husband remarks, and
laughs; but I am too hurt and too indignant to be amused.
I don't look unhappy, do I?"-lifting pleading
eyes to his.
"Not always," he says a little sadly.
"But do I ever?" I persist.
"Don't, child," Humphrey says, as if my words hurt
him; and with a jerk he shuts up the fan.
"Here is
Delacourt making his way through the crowd. Try to
smile; you look as if I had been scolding you."
"I don't care to dance now," I say.
"You must," he answers quickly. "He will think
122
MY MARRIAGE.
I have prevented you-and I am not so selfish as
that."
"Our dance," says Captain Delacourt, halting in front
of us.
"I will take care of these." And Humphrey pos-
sesses himself of my bouquet and fan.
My good spirits seem to have suddenly vanished.
"I am afraid you are very tired," observes my com-
panion-we are revolving slowly to a dreamy German
waltz, but my smiles and laughter have disappeared.
"Does your husband approve of your dancing when he
does not gyrate himself?" Captain Delacourt asks; and
I answer a little more vehemently than necessary.
(6
If he did not approve of it, I should not be dancing
now."
He laughs.
"Mrs. Carstairs, you are always so terribly in earn-
est about everything. Have I offended you by my
question?"
"Not a bit." And then, to change the subject, I ask
him what brought him to that quiet seaside nook where
Humphrey and I were spending our honeymoon - those
four awful weeks, when I felt such a longing to be at
home again.
"I was on duty," Captain Delacourt explains. "You
must know that I have a certain maiden aunt who is
very infirm, very wealthy, and exceedingly fond of my
most unworthy self. Attended by her dutiful nephew,
she took a new lease of life at the seaside. Some day I
hope my faithfulness will be rewarded. And now you
know all."
*
*
*
A gray light is creeping over the earth, a strip of
brightness widening and spreading in the east, as we
drive home from the ball.
"Have you enjoyed it, darling?" Humphrey asks;
and I answer bitterly and tearfully -
"I did enjoy myself till I heard what that woman
said. How dare people say such unkind things!"
MY MARRIAGE.
123
"We will forget it." An arm steals round me, and
my head is drawn down on my husband's shoulder.
"You are like a ghost, child. There
66
you must not
cry, my own little wife; the world is unkind and unjust
always. Madgie, your tears hurt me more than that ill-
natured speech we overheard."
I take the hand that is stroking my hair so gently, and
press my trembling lips to it, and then sob and cry, while
he holds me tightly in his strong arms.
And so my first ball ends in a shower of bitter tears;
for somehow we are not as husband and wife ought to
be. Nevertheless into my heart creeps the first dawn of
a something that makes me wish to live for Humphrey
and make him happy.
A
CHAPTER XV.
NOTHER month wears away. Winter seems to
have come upon us suddenly, and the trees are
black and bare; the sea tosses and moans, and, when a
strong wind blows, sends showers of spray over the rocks.
After Christmas Humphrey says I may ask Bee and
Lena for a visit of indefinite length; and, though I try
to imagine that I am really contented, the mere idea of
having my sisters for my companions again sends me
nearly wild with delight.
Georgie Delacourt and I are fast friends. We have
arrived at the kissing stage, and call each other by
our Christian names. I am not by any means fond of
kissing; but Georgie hugs me when we meet and when
we part. There is something about her that I do not
understand, and I often fancy that her high spirits are
assumed. She is very "fast," very reckless, very daring,
and professes not to care for anything or anybody, but
124
MY MARRIAGE.
now and again I have seen the softened look of unshed
tears come stealing into her eyes, and the bright face
grow sad for a second.
Chris Delacourt confides in me that it grieves him to
see Georgie "so unlike other girls," as he calls it. She
drives about the country by herself in a dog-cart, and
sets every one at defiance.
"I am so glad she is so much with you, Mrs. Car-
stairs," he says one day, with a smile on his pleasant
face.
We have been very quiet since the Ripley ball, ex-
cept for our dinner-party- an affair that caused me
many days of anxiety, many sleepless nights. I sur-
vived it however, and did not find it so terrible as I
imagined. But Mrs. Steele deserved all the credit, for
I was only a dressed-up doll at the head of the table.
Mrs. Delacourt told me I was a charming hostess, and
everybody voted my first dinner-party a success. Only
Humphrey guessed how frightened I was; and he told
me afterwards that we would never have anything in the
way of dinner-parties again if I did not like it. I was
goose enough to say that I would never ask anybody
but the Delacourts. But now I am privately planning
sundry festivities to take place when Bee and Lena come
to us.
One lesson I have learnt in society to show a smil-
ing face to the world, and, if there be a skeleton in my
home, to keep it there, and hide the disagreeable truth
in my own heart. I find that the world generally takes
one at one's own valuation; and now not even Georgie
ever guesses that Humphrey and I are not the happiest
couple on earth.
Madgie, your husband worships you," she says one
day; and then a hard defiant look comes into her eyes
even while her lips smile. "It is well to see somebody
happy; but for you I should doubt the existence of such
a thing."
Humphrey and I held up as models of happiness! I
often smile sadly at the idea during the long hours that
MY MARRIAGE.
125
I sit by myself while my husband works away at his pic-
tures, I paying dutiful visits to him now and then. Two
of my marriage-vows that I keep to the letter; yet I
know he wishes I loved him more, even if I honored
and obeyed him less.
Sir Jasper Vane has come home for Christmas, to keep
it by himself at the Abbey. I have not seen him yet; and
Georgie vouchsafes me no information on the subject.
"He is only a man, and not worth talking about," she
said to me once, laughing; and then she gave a graphic
description"Sir Jasper Vane, five feet eleven, gaunt
and hollow-eyed, bronzed with sojourning in foreign
lands, a hard landlord, a harder friend, and a bitter
enemy."
And her words and her look come back to me often.
I am thinking of her now, and wondering why she hates
this Sir Jasper Vane, when I hear the sound of wheels
coming up the avenue; and, on looking out, I see the dog-
cart from Ripley passing the windows, Georgie driving
her brother's new horse, and the groom seated behind.
She is in the room in another minute; but there is
something different about her to day — a more hardened
look about her face, a more masculine determination
about her dress.
"Such a brute that is! He has nearly pulled out my
arms!"
66
Why don't you let the man drive?”
"Do you think I would? Chris was horrified when
he saw that I had the new horse put in the trap; he has
been in harness only twice before, and jumped nearly
the whole way. Chris will give me a dreadful scolding;
but I don't care -- I had a reason for it to-day."
"
66
Perhaps you were trying to break your neck?"
No, I was not; and, Madgie, I want you to risk yours
and come back with me to luncheon. You must; I will
take no refusal. Of course I mean Mr. Carstairs too, if
he cares to come."
I don't think Humphrey can go― he is very busy at
his pictures ; but—”
?
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MY MARRIAGE.
"No 'buts;' you must come, Madgie. Chris has
asked Sir Jasper Vane to luncheon; and I will not face
that man by myself. I-I can't bear him” – ending
with a nervous little laugh, and walking to the window.
"Look how quietly the chestnut stands !" she says, after
a moment's pause. "He will go nicely after a day or
two of my training. Now, Madgie, run away and get
ready; for we must be back in time for luncheon."
Humphrey, as I prophesied, is too much engrossed
with his painting to be persuaded to leave it even for a
day.
"I will come over and bring you home," he
says. "I
must get on with this while the mood is on me. Hurry
off and dress, Madgie, and peep in before you go.”
The dressing takes five minutes; and I run down
again and stand behind Humphrey's chair for a few
moments.
"I wish you would come, Humphrey."
"You will be very happy without me, darling," he says,
looking up. "Give me a kiss, wife, and don't keep
Georgie waiting."
I stoop and lay a kiss on his forehead, light and fleet-
ing as usual.
"Only one! Is that all?" And his voice sounds weary.
I never kiss him unless he asks me ; but then I never
kiss Bee, and I love her more than anybody else in the
world.
"What nonsense!" I say, but pause for one more
second, sweep back the fair soft hair from his forehead,
and bend my face, the face he loves so dearly, over his.
Come early, Humphrey laying careless uncaress-
ing hands on his broad shoulders.
66
""
"Yes. Good-by, my child. Tell Georgie I am all
over paint, and can't come down."
"Yes. Good-by, Humphrey." And I hurry off, turn-
ing at the door to smile a farewell.
What a pity it is that he will not be content with a
pleasant jog-trot friendship! And yet I find myself
wishing that his eyes were not quite so sadly reproach-
MY MARRIAGE.
127
I
ful sometimes, wishing that I could give him all the love
and worship he wants.
Georgie's arms must ache considerably by the time we
turn in at the wide gates of Ripley. It has taken all her
strength to hold in the chestnut, who evinced strong
symptoms of bolting every minute.
"Don't speak to me," Georgie said at the start. And
I was silent, expecting every moment to be my last.
Chris Delacourt's new horse is in a lather as we come
bowling up the avenue at last ; and Georgie, with her lips
compressed, is as white as a sheet.
"Steady, sir!" she says, as the chestnut gives a spring
forward at some imaginary object.
The passage up the avenue is accomplished by a series
of springs and plunges ; but Georgie gains the mastery,
steers cleverly round the sweep, and, to my relief, we
draw up at the hall door in safety. Two figures are
standing on the steps
Chris Delacourt and a stranger
Sir Jasper Vane, I conclude. He takes off his hat
and bows stiffly; but Georgie scarcely acknowledges him.
The groom has taken possession of the horse's head,
and Chris comes running down the steps. He is in an
awful rage; and Georgie laughs a mischievous little laugh,
and looks down at her brother's flushed angry face.
66
Georgie, if you have no care for your own life, you
have no right to risk Mrs. Carstairs' neck,” he says, and
helps me down. "Mrs. Carstairs, I hope you were not
frightened. That animal is only half broken in."
All's well that ends well," I answer gayly.
Georgie is laughing still. Chris looks up at her, and
his violet eyes grow wrathful.
Georgie, I forbid you to go out by yourself again
with that horse."
"Out of the way, Chris!" she says, standing up in
the trap and laying down the reins ; and with one spring
she alights on her feet. And then she says carelessly,
"I am going to drive him over to Brookfield to-morrow.
Don't be a goose, Chris; you know I always have my
own way."
•
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MY MARRIAGE.
"Not when it is against my will!
"
But Georgie passes up the steps and holds out a cool
hand of greeting to Sir Jasper.
"6 So you have come back," she says, in a tone of su-
preme indifference.
"Yes, I have come home for good," he answers,
barely touching the hand held out.
Her pale face suddenly flushes crimson, and her man-
ner is strangely confused as she introduces me to Sir
Jasper Vane.
We are an awkward group. Chris is sulky after the
affair of the horse; Sir Jasper has a smile of supercili-
ous amusement in his eyes; Georgie is trying to be her
careless self; and I am wondering why she and Sir
Jasper are at daggers drawn. He is rather a striking-
looking man, with a thin dark face that answers to
Georgie's description. I look for his hollow eyes, and
see steady dark-gray orbs, the only soft feature in his
hard stern face. A long reddish-brown mustache
nearly conceals his mouth, but it is a mouth that seldom
smiles. Altogether I am not favorably impressed by
Sir Jasper; he looks like a man at war with the world
but, when he speaks in answer to some remark of mine,
his voice is pleasant.
"I hope you find our neighborhood agreeable, Mrs.
Carstairs?"
"Oh, yes! Every one has been so kind."
Georgie laughs.
;
"Kind!' As if there were such a thing as kindness
in the world! Malice and all uncharitableness reign
supreme. I wonder how people dare pray against them.
on Sunday, when they are their very soul's food during
the week" turning her bright sparkling eyes for a
second on Sir Jasper.
"You are of course exempt from the follies of your
neighbors, Miss Delacourt?" And his tone is as bitter
as hers.
Again she laughs the scornful little laugh that falls so
often from her lips.
MY MARRIAGE.
129
Spare me personalities, Sir Jasper. I know your
opinion of me well enough. Instead of being funny and
severe and saying nasty things, suppose we go in and
see if luncheon will not restore us to good humor."
Chris Delacourt's sunny face is clouded still.
"L
1
Georgie, you must be civil to him," he says, as we
pass through the hall; and wilful Georgie looks over
her shoulder.
I
"Sir Jasper, Chris says I am to be civil to you.”
"Be anything you like; it is all the same to me," he
answers in a tone of cold indifference.
Poor Chris colors angrily to the roots of his yellow
hair and mutters something.
Georgie is not in a pleasant mood to-day. During
luncheon she talks and laughs, advocates woman's
rights, degrades her truer, better self at every word, and
makes the most sweeping assertions, looking beautiful
and defiant all the time. Sir Jasper hears her out with
a frown on his face, and then he speaks.
"Do you like women out of their proper sphere, Mrs.
Carstairs?
""
"What is their proper sphere?" I ask, smiling.
Georgie answers the question.
""
Darning stockings, and being slaves to men.”
A light flashes into Sir Jasper's eyes.
"Pardon me, Miss Delacourt, there is no question of
slavery; and a true woman is a man's helpmate, his
companion, his equal. When a woman ceases to be
what her Creator has made her, she becomes anything
but an ornament to society."
Georgie's answer comes not quite so readily.
Let people please themselves and order their own
lives as they choose; I hate old-fashioned notions."
But her clear voice is hardly as steady as usual, and
she brings her small white teeth suddenly down on her
lip as if his words hurt her.
Sir Jasper leans back in his chair, and looks at her
with an odd unpleasant smile on his face, noting the
quiver on her lip.
9
130
MY MARRIAGE.
Georgie is herself again directly.
"Madgie, when are your sisters coming? I am long-
ing to see Bee."
And then the conversation drifts into another chan-
nel. Mrs. Delacourt is not at luncheon; she has a cold,
and is keeping her room, and Georgie sits in her place
at the head of the table. When luncheon is over, Chris
takes Sir Jasper off to the billiard-room for a smoke,
and we go into the drawing-room.
The passion has died out of Georgie suddenly. She
turns to me with an odd little smile.
"Well, what do you think of him?”
“I think you were very rude to him, Georgie.”
"
"I hate him." The three words are jerked out, and
then she laughs. "Did you see his face when I said I
was longing to see your sister Bee? If his thoughts
were put into words, they would run like this — 'I would
rather lay my sister in her grave than see her Georgie
Delacourt's companion!""
"Nonsense; and indeed, Georgie, it is your own
fault if Sir Jasper thinks you a strange madcap."
"I don't care what he thinks. How angry Chris was
about the horse !"
"You won't take him out again?" I say, looking at
her as she sits leaning back, her shapely white hands
clasped behind her head and her dark eyes gleaming
with mischief.
"Yes; I don't want to vex Chris; but I am going to
take out the dog-cart, for Sir Jasper will hear of it."
"And what does it matter to you, Georgie?"
Nothing, of course." But a sudden flush mounts to
her temples, and she springs up. "Do go and sing,
Madgie; your singing always puts me in a good
humor."
When the shadows are falling, Sir Jasper and Chris
come back again, and Georgie presides at the inevitable
five-o'clock tea. Chris sits down and strums on the
piano. Sir Jasper stands leaning against the chimney-
piece and looking down into the fire. Georgie, hemmed
MY MARRIAGE.
131
in by the gipsy-table, pours out the tea; but Sir Jasper
never stirs, never offers to hand the cups or assist her in
any way; and Georgie speaks in her stiffest, iciest
tone.
"Sir Jasper, may I trouble you to hand this to Mrs.
Carstairs?"
With lazy grace he advances to her side.
"Pardon me, Miss Delacourt, I would have offered.
my services had I not fancied there would have been
more honor in the breach than the observance."
"I do not understand," says Georgie in a low voice,
making a good deal of unnecessary noise with the tea-
cups.
"I mean nothing, except that it appears to me as if
the young ladies of the present age have adopted our
ways and made themselves quite independent of us.
We may as well give up all our privileges with a good
grace."
His tone is cruelly unkind; and, with a smile on his
face, he hands me my tea-cup; and Georgie looks not
at him, but over at the fire, with closed resolute lips.
Chris bursts out laughing.
"You are shut up, Georgie. I knew you would get
the worst of it with Jasper."
She does not answer and Sir Jasper goes back to the
table.
"May I have some tea?" he asks in a pleasant voice,
and then bends his head a little. "Pardon me if I have
been rude."
Georgie looks up with a nervous little laugh.
"Do not trouble to apologize."
His head descends a little lower.
"Is it to be war or peace?" he asks in a low voice;
and Georgie answers in passionate defiance
“War - war to the knife!"
And, without another word, he steps back to his place
on the hearth-rug.
>
素
​132
MY MARRIAGE.
WA
CHAPTER XVI.
AR to the knife! A week later Georgie solves the
enigma herself. We are together one wet after-
noon; Humphrey has gone off to a horse-fair with Chris
Delacourt, and Georgie is spending the day with me.
Luncheon is a thing of the past, and we are sitting in the
great arm-chairs by the fire, in lazy luxurious idleness.
The rain is streaming down the window-panes. Hum-
phrey will get very wet; but I do not think he minds.
Georgie is very silent to-day, and I am not very cheer-
ful; so the conversation flags, and at last stops alto-
gether. For five minutes perhaps there is not a sound
but the crackling of the fire and the splash and drip of
the rain outside.
I look over at Georgie suddenly, and see such a pit-
eous miserable expression written on her face that I
exclaim hastily-
"What is it, Georgie? Has anything gone wrong ? "
She looks up, and her mouth quivers.
(6
Everything has gone wrong!" she says desperately.
"I wish I was dead!"
"Oh, Georgie!" And I gaze in dismay, for her head
has gone down upon the arm of the chair, and she is
crying as if her heart would break.
Georgie Delacourt, with all her boasted strength of
mind, is only a woman after all; the tears she has given
way to are bitter and passionate as the tears of those
who seldom weep. I go down upon my knees beside
her.
Georgie dear, are you in trouble? Won't you tell
me?"
She lifts her face, with the tears running down like
rain.
"How he would triumph if he saw me now, crying like
a baby because of that cruel speech of his !"
"You mean Sir Jasper Vane?" I say in a low tone,
MY MARRIAGE.
133
but with the firm conviction that he has caused this
storm of bitter tears.
"I suppose you have heard all about it, Madgie?”
Georgie says in a low pained voice, the hot blood creep-
ing from chin to brow.
"I know nothing," I answer. And Georgie laughs an
bysterical little laugh.
"I thought all the world knew that Sir Jasper Vane
jilted me two years ago." And then she dashes away the
drops from her eyelashes. "Madgie, would you believe
that Sir Jasper ever cared for me?"
"Georgie, you know that I have never heard anything
about it; but I have wondered how you could dislike
him so much."
"Dislike him! What an innocent child you are,
Madgie! I hate him --- do you understand?
do you understand? I hate the
sight of that man the sound of his voice !" The piti-
ful misery in her eyes is drowned by a mist of tears;
she shakes all over; and I start at the agony of her
next words. "Hate him! What is the use of saying
it when I would die to get one smile from his eyes?
Madgie, Madgie, if I don't speak to somebody, I shall
go mad!"
So she tells her story in a half-defiant, wholly wretched
mood, trying to speak carelessly when her voice trembles
at every second word.
"He did love me once," she begins. "No matter
what any one says, I know he did care for me once;
and it is the only thing I have to think of now, the
knowledge that I had his first, his whole love; and no
other woman can ever steal that from me! Oh, Madgie,
what idiots we women are to stake our life on a man's
love! My story is almost worthy of a novel, I think.
I was engaged to be married to Sir Jasper Vane, and
we were idiotically happy, till something came between
us and we quarrelled. It was a foolish quarrel; but
Jasper went off in a rage, and I would not ask him to
stay, or even come back. And I did mad; things to
show I did not care, and danced all night at a ball with
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MY MARRIAGE.
an old flame of mine. Some kind person kept Sir Jas
per well posted as to my doings; and, as stories don't
lose in the telling, he heard a pleasing version of my con·
duct. It was told him that I had said I was marrying
him only for his title and his wealth I who would have
loved him if he had not one penny! We had one
meeting after that, and Madgie, it is not a pleasant
thing to hear a man tell you he wants to have nothing
more to do with you. I laughed all the time he was
speaking, for I did not believe he was in earnest. And
then can you fancy me with my arms round a man's
neck, telling him I loved him better than anything
else in the world - begging for pity? He had his
triumph then, when with his own hand he untwisted my
fingers; and what he said burns and stings me still. I
did not care what he thought he was stern, and as
hard as flint-but I knelt at his feet and prayed as a
lost soul might pray to enter Paradise; and he merely
looked down, and his eyes never softened. And I
I loved him then; and, Heaven help me, I love him
still!"
Georgie ends her unhappy love-story with a catching
of the breath, and then there falls a great unbroken
silence between us.
I hold her hands in mine, and stroke the poor shaking
fingers tenderly, saying nothing; for what comfort can
words give in a sorrow like this? Tears stand in my
eyes. I look up at her at last; her face is white and
hard, and a dismal little smile flits over her mouth.
66
'Crying for me, Madgie? Your husband won't be
pleased if he comes home and finds I have made
you unhappy. There-I am all right now! Listen,
Madgie; I would not be friends with Sir Jasper Vane if
I could."
Georgie leans back and looks at me, not knowing how
the mute anguish of her eyes contradicts her words.
She is in her riding-habit, and it suits her graceful shapely
figure well. I do not think I ever remember seeing
her look so well, in spite of the tears on her pale cheeks.
MY MARRIAGE
tas
Georgie Delacourt is the only woman I have ever met
who can cry becomingly. Her nose never gets red, her
eyelids never swell; the great tears just well up and fall
passionately, leaving little trace, like children's faces
after a sudden tempest of tears. She gets up sud-
denly,
"May I ring to have my horse brought round? It is
getting late, and I am not good or profitable company
to-day."
“But it is raining, Georgie."
"I don't mind."
She carries her point; and, in spite of my protesta-
tions, the horse is ordered; and Georgie goes back to
the chair by the fire.
"Never speak of this again, Madgie," she says. "I
am sure I cannot tell why I spoke of it to-day. I sel-
dom make confidants, for I think it a bad plan as a
rule; but I can trust you, Madgie."
}
"You can indeed," I answer, with impulsive earnest-
ness. “I will never repeat to anybody what you have
told me."
'Not even your husband," Georgie says, and then
adds, But I suppose husbands and wives tell each
other everything."
As I promise, I think with a little bitterness of heart
how few confidences pass between Humphrey and
I, how little there is of that inner communion that is
supposed to exist between those who are married.
66
Perhaps it will all come right some day, Georgie,"
I remark presently, in a soft shy voice; for I hate prob-
ing other people's wounds.
.6
"Come right!" A half-scornful smile curls her lip.
Madgie, do you not understand that I would not bring
things right if I could? If by one word I could bring
him to my feet, that word would remain unspoken !
Verily, if love like Humphrey's is hard to compre-
hend, this is something stranger, more incomprehensible
still.
As the last words fall from her lips the door of the
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MY MARRIAGE.
1
room opens, and Sir Jasper Vane is announced. I
glance at Georgie as I rise to receive him. She is trem-
bling visibly; and her mouth has taken its hardest, most
rebellious expression.
Sir Jasper advances slowly up the long room, and I
can see that the smile on his face is forced, and that his
eyes go over my shoulder to that other figure beyond;
and I sincerely hope he does not see her agitation. It
would be gall and wormwood to her proud spirit to be
caught by him as a love-lorn maiden, with the tears
scarce dried upon her cheeks.
"I have brought you a message from your husband,
Mrs. Carstairs," Sir Jasper says, shaking hands with me
and passing on to Georgie, who has risen, pale and de-
fiant, to confront him.
He just touches the reluctant hand held out in chilly
greeting, Georgie looks down. I think she can hardly
trust those dark eyes of hers to-day to meet his and not
reveal some of the misery of her heart.
Sir Jasper turns back to me.
1
'Your husband asked me to call, as he cannot be
home till late, and he was afraid you might be anxious
Chris met an old friend, who asked him to dine with him
at the hotel; and he persuaded Carstairs to stay too.
But they were to come home early; and I think I have
given my message very correctly."
"( Thank you; it was very kind of you to call,” I say.
"You are not going already, Georgie?" For she has
risen, and now stands beside me.
"Yes; I cannot keep the horse standing in the wet,"
she says hastily.
Sir Jasper looks at her, pulls his mustache, and
speaks.
"Miss Delacourt, you are not going to ride home in
this rain?"
"Yes, I am," she answers, not looking at him, but
coloring a little under his gaze.
"My trap is at the door; will you allow me to drive
you home?" he says, in quite a humble voice for him
"It is raining very heavily; you will get drenched."
MY MARRIAGE:.
137:
"I do not mind a wetting," she answers quickly..
46
Georgie if you wait a moment, I will order the car;
riage," I say. "Peter will drive you home in the
brougham."
Georgie laughs a laugh that is a failure.
1
Nonsense, Madgie; Sultan will carry me home in a
quarter of an hour. Good-by, dear, and come and see,
me soon.";
jt
A sudden torrent of rain dashes against the windows,
and Sir Jasper exclaims
"Miss Delacourt, you are mad to venture out in this!
You may bring an illness on yourself.”
And, if I do, what then?" she answers lightly.
A half-stern but wholly sorrowful expression comes
into his eyes.
'Am I so great an enemy that you will not even spend.
fifteen minutes in my society?" he asks in a low voice,,
looking into the girl's pale face, which twitches suddenly
as if with pain before the passionate words come.,
"You have spoken the truth, Sir Jasper Vane. And
you know I would sooner die than receive even so small
a favor at your hands! !"
And then she passes out of the room, and we follow
in silence.
Sir Jasper goes down the steps bareheaded in the
rain, puts her on her horse, and then says something as
he looks up for a second into her face. In another mo-
ment she is cantering down the avenue in the wind and
rain, and Sir Jasper comes up the steps again.
"Good-by, Mrs. Carstairs. I must get home. My
poor horse looks like a drowned rat.”
66
Oh, do stay for a moment and take a glass of sherry
or something!" I say, avoiding looking at his stern set
face.
"
But he declines all refreshment, says "Good-by'
hastily, and drives away, looking savage and grim.
And I feel sure that, for all his assumed indifference,
he cares for Georgie Delacourt still.
By virtue of the wedding-ring upon my finger, I fall to
138
MY MARRIAGE.
A
match-making, and have so far built my castles in the ai▾
that I have reached the spot where through my instru-
mentality Georgie and Sir Jasper are reconciled, when
it suddenly occurs to me that it is against all my ex-
pressed principles to advocate matrimony as the end
and aim of human happiness. Circumstances alter
郝
​cases for all that, and so I go on erecting my airy fabric
of imagination, till the advent of Bernard with the can-
dles announces the near approach of the dinner-hour.
"The master is dining out, Bernard," I say.
The prospect of dining alone is rather dreary; but I
go up-stairs and dress as usual, and wish Bee was here.
How cheerful we should be together this evening! I
am afraid Humphrey's absence would hardly be noticed
if I had bright merry Bee to keep me company. It is
dreary work sitting at the head of the long table in the
dim shadowy dining-room, and my husband's vacant
place looks very dismal. Outside I can hear the rain
splashing and the wind coming in gusts. In spite of
myself I feel lonely, and my appetite has deserted me;
for who cares to prolong dinner and dawdle over dessert
if one is alone?
In an incredibly short space of time I am back in the
drawing-room, in the warmth and the firelight, wonder-
ing how I am to get through the evening. A long letter
to home occupies an hour; and then for the first time I
find myself listening for my husband's step, waiting to
catch the first sound of his voice. And, when at last
he comes, I smile gladly up into his face and say
“Humphrey, I am so glad you have come home."
*
*
*
Christmas is over the first Christmas I have spent
from home-and I am glad that it is past and gone;
and the new year, only two weeks old as yet, is passing
on its way, beginning its infancy with a tempest of rain
that lasts day after day. But I can bear bad weather
anything, in fact with equanimity, for Lena and Bee
are coming next week, and I am counting the very days
and hours now.
MY MARRIAGE.
139
I have chosen two of the prettiest and brightest bed-
rooms, and, with Mrs. Steele's help, they are made pic-
tures of luxurious comfort, with lace and ribbons, and
some of Humphrey's pictures on the dark walls. The
beds are got up in the white and pink common to the
dainty bed-rooms provided by novelists for the reception
of their heroines. In darling Bee's room I have placed
a writing-table well stocked with paper, pens, and ink;
and at one end of the room stands a bookcase into
which I have put every book I can find, for, if Bee
writes, she must read, and out of this heterogeneous
mass she will surely find food for her mind.
Humphrey laughs at my plans; but I think he looks
a little sad too. And one evening he says, half smiling,
half serious
"I shall be nothing to my wife now, when Bee and
Lena come putting his hands on my shoulders as he
speaks. And then he laughs at the piteous dismay in
my upturned face. "Never mind, my little woman! Be
as happy as you can."
"Humphrey, I am happy with you very often," I
whisper ever so low, and feel his arms close round me
tightly.
66
Wife, darling, will there ever be a time when you
cannot be happy without me?”
Drawing back my head, I look up into his face and
read the passionate love there, and a great pity comes
into my heart for him.
((
Humphrey, if I get to care for you as much as Bee,
will you be content?
""
A smile comes into his eyes. His voice takes a lower,
more loving tone.
"Content
Bee, Madgie.”
but not satisfied. It must be more than
"I couldn't, Humphrey! I could never love any man
as much as Bee!"
"Not as much
but more," he answers softly.
140
MY MARRIAGE.
ON
CHAPTER XVII.
NLY three days, and Bee and Lena will be with
me! We are at breakfast, Humphrey and I. The
post-bag has just come in; and behind the great silver
urn I am reading a letter from Bee a long letter, full
of wild delight at the prospect of coming to Carstairs;
and she gives a graphic and amusing description of
Lena's dread that their wardrobes will not be considered
fashionable enough for my gay neighborhood.
"Madgie !"
Humphrey's voice breaks in upon my letter-reading,
and there is something in his tone that tells me it is not
an ordinary question he is about to ask.
66
Well," I say, peeping round the urn, "what is it,
Humphrey?"
He has a letter in his hand a foreign letter appar-
ently, judging from the thin blue envelope.
"Madgie," he says again, trying to speak carelessly,
but looking at my face all the time to see the effect of
his words, "what do you say to a trip to New York?
""
"To New York !" I echo, with eyes opening in amaze-
ment. "What do you mean, Humphrey ?"
He looks down at the letter in his hand, and then up
at me again.
"I have an old friend named Grant dying in New
York of consumption. This letter is from him; and he
asks me, as a last favor, to come and see him before he
dies, and be a guardian to his only sister, poor fellow!"
I listen blankly to his explanation, and then turn my
eyes away from my husband's face.
(6
Humphrey, must you go ?"
He gets up and comes over to me.
1
"Listen, child. When I was ill in London, years ago,
with no friends, no one to care if I lived or died, Grant
nursed me almost night and day for two months, and
worked himself to a shadow to procure wine and luxuries.
MY MARRIAGE.
141
for me.
Now he is ill-dying- and he wants to see
me. Don't you think I ought to go? We shall not be
away more than six weeks or two months."
"We !" with a gasp in my voice. "Do you mean
that I am to go, Humphrey?"
"Yes," is all he says, gravely and sternly, and puts
his dying friend's letter into my hand, and then walks
away to the window, while I read the faint blotted hand-
writing, the last touching appeal of man to man and
heart to heart.
Slowly I read the letter, and slowly I fold it up..
66
'Humphrey, I think you ought to go," I say in a
tearful voice, with a stress on the "you" which he cannot
fail to understand.
He does not answer immediately. I look over at his
tall figure standing in the window, and wonder what he
is thinking of and why he does not speak. The silence.
becomes unbearable, and I break it at last, timidly and
uncertainly.
"Bee and Lena will be so disappointed. Humphrey,
would you mind if I stayed at home with them?"
He turns round suddenly.
"Great Heaven, Madgie, do you mean to drive me
mad?" And then, as I rise to my feet and stand smit-
ten dumb with wild frightened eyes at the first wrathful
words that have ever passed his lips to me, he cries out,
with something like a sob in his voice, "Child, child,
you will break my heart!
>>
I do not speak — I only look back at him, with fast-
coming tears and gasping, catching breath. Did I seem
glad at the prospect of being alone at Carstairs, with my
sisters for company? Perhaps I showed gladness in my
face. I was hardly conscious of even feeling one throb
of pleasure at the prospect; but Humphrey's jealous,
passionate eyes are keen. Tears roll down my cheeks.
Madgie, Madgie, where is all your bravery? Wife,
don't you know it is your duty to accompany me?"
66
(6
It hurts me to hear the pitiful stress on the word
duty" as it falls from his lips.
142
MY MARRIAGE.
66
"My duty!" I falter, with a throb of pity for us both,
and go one step nearer to him. 'Your wife must not
fail in that, Humphrey."
"We must go at once," my husband says, passing his
hand wearily across his forehead; and I sigh, and think
of the long journey before us.
Just for one second my husband's arms clasp me
tightly; he bends his face over mine, and keeps it there.
"Madgie, Heaven help us both if only duty keeps
you by my side !”
What is the good of my saying anything? No words
of mine can make any difference.
By-and-by he comes and finds me writing a few hasty
lines to Bee to tell her of our sudden strange journey.
Not one word do I say in blame of my husband; but,
in spite of myself, one tear has fallen on the paper and
left a blistered stain. Humphrey looks sorrowfully at
my woe-begone face.
64
Madgie, darling, it won't be so long after all; and
then you can have the girls for the whole summer if you
like."
"Am I very foolish?" I say, and smile up at him a
little. One of my repentant fits comes suddenly, and I
lean my cheek upon his hand. Humphrey, I wonder
And now, my
when you will begin to hate me?"
"I will tell you when the time comes.
child, I want to start the day after to-morrow. Can you
be ready?"
Yes," I answer, with a lump in my throat, but very
resolute and determined to say I would be ready in half
an hour, if he so willed it.
There is a great deal to be done, and Mrs. Steele is
at her wit's end; and with a pang I hear her giving
orders for the dismantling of the two pretty rooms that
have been got ready for Lena and Bee. Boxes are
packed, and the whole house is in confusion. Chris
Delacourt comes over and offers to do anything in his
power.
I think our neighbors believe we are mad for flying
MY MARRIAGE.
143
17
off to America to see a dying man; and the day before
our departure we are besieged with visitors. Nobody
seems to believe that we are actually going. The house
has a deserted air already. Mrs. Steele, I know, is
promising herself a field-day in the drawing-room after
I am gone; and I hear murmurs for holland coverings,
as. she thinks it sacrilege to have the ancient drab bro-
cade exposed for every-day use.
On the day of our departure the china and ornaments
disappear into the depths of some mysterious cupboards,
and the long dim drawing-room has a very dismantled
appearance. We are not to start till the afternoon;
and to-morrow we shall be on the salt sea, our faces set
towards the New World. In spite of myself, and not-
withstanding my disappointment, I am filled with a not
unpleasurable excitement at the prospect of a sea-voy-
age, and all the new sights that lie before us.
譬
​The morning is raw and cold, and the air outside is
heavy. Drops hang from every bare black branch and
tiny twig, and the world has a soddened look that would
be depressing if I had time to think about it. The post-
man is coming up the avenue. I expect a letter from
home, and go out into the hall myself to take the pile
of letters and papers from Bernard. Tossing them all
down by Humphrey, I seize an envelope bearing mamma's
handwriting, and, tearing it open, see a few scrawled
lines, evidently written in a great hurry; and I read, with
a wild beating at my heart, that Bee- my darling Bee
is ill — scarlatina, the doctors say.
"Madgie, what has happened?" Humphrey asks.
And I look up and feel myself growing white to the
lips.
"Bee is ill. I must go to her," I say slowly and with
difficulty. And, without speaking, Humphrey takes the
letter from my hand and reads it through.
"How
"Scarlatina! Have you had it, Madgie?
"I? No; I think not." And then I get up.
soon can I go to her, Humphrey?"-looking up at him
with a sort of dumb appeal, for something tells me that
144
MY MARRIAGE.
if I go to Bee it will be against my husband's wish.
And I set my lips together firmly when his low-breathed
steady words come.
66
Madgie, Bee's illness is infectious. You cannot go
to her."
"I must! Don't try to stop me, Humphrey."
He pauses to prepare himself for the conflict of will
against will; but he is very calm and quiet yet.
"
My darling, if it was anything in reason, you know
I would yield to your wishes ; but I cannot allow you to
put your life in danger."
But I am deaf to reason. Bee, bright merry Bee, is
ill. The life of the one being dearer to me than all else
in this world is in danger, and go to her I must and
will.
(6
Humphrey," I say desperately, with a choking voice,
"you cannot keep me from Bee. I must go to-day. We
are only losing time. If you love me, you will not say
anything more.
"If I love you?" and his voice is as unsteady as my
own. "It is because I love you so much that I cannot
let you go. Listen, child. Bee has her sisters and her
mother with her. She may have taken this illness very
lightly; and when we come home she will, please Heaven,
be well and strong again.”
(6
"You don't mean to take me to New York?" I cry,
and then burst into bitter weeping. Humphrey, Hum-
phrey, I cannot go! Bee may die—and I must, oh, I
must go to her !
""
I sit and sob, and my husband walks up and down;
and presently I feel his hand on my shoulder.
"Darling, you know that I feel for you."
I raise my face, and say in a whisper
“Then you will allow me to go to-day? No one could
nurse her as I could. She loves me more than them all."
I thought when I married that I should never find any
difficulty in obeying my husband. To-day it seems as if
this is the hardest of all my vows to keep.
"No good could come of your going," Humphrey says
MY MARRIAGE.
145
gloomily. "It would only trouble Bee and make her
anxious for your sake. Don't look, dear, as if I were
unkind in saying this, or harsh, when I tell you that I
absolutely forbid your going to your sister."
Shall I disobey him? Shall I rise to my feet and say
I will go my own way? For a moment my heart rises
in hot rebellion, and then something in the grave tender
face looking at me in pity, not anger, brings me all at
once to my better self.
"What do you wish me to do, Humphrey?" I say
very sorrowfully. "Tell me what you think best."
He looks very sad when he speaks not at once, but
as if he were weighing his words.
"Madgie, I am not selfish enough to ask you to ac-
company me, when I know that in your heart you would
rather be at home; but, if I allow you to stay here, will
you promise me not to go to Bee? Will you give me
your word now?”
I look into his face as I speak.
“I could not promise that, Humphrey."
Then, my child, I must take you with me to New
York." Very quietly and patiently he gives his decision,
and I listen with a sense of desperation. "Madgie, I
leave it with yourself to decide.”
"I will stay here," I answer, with the feeling that, of
two evils, it is better to choose the least.
"And you will promise not to run away home to
Bee?" he urges gently still; but I can see how anxiously
he waits for my answer.
"If Bee is dying," I say, with quivering lips, "I must
go to her. No promise could keep me from her then."
"Bee is young and strong. Why should she die?
Madgie, give me your word that, unless the worst comes,
you will stay here."
"I promise "—whispering the two words reluctantly
"Now I shall be better satisfied, when I am far away,
to know you are safe at home." Then my husband says,
with a wistful tenderness, "Madgie, you will write to me
every mail ?"
ΙΟ
146
MY MARRIAGE.
"Yes," I answer, thinking little of his loneliness,
but my mind dwelling upon Bee, out of sight and
sound of my face and voice, ill, dying perhaps, and my
word passed not to go to her, unless it is for a last
good-by.
The remainder of the day drags with leaden hours.
'Humphrey's grave face is a constant reproach. Once I
am tempted to say, "I will go with you, Humphrey,'
but I cannot bring my lips to utter such words; and my
boxes are carried up to my room again, and I see Hes-
ter laying my things back in the wardrobes.
"I don't like leaving you here alone, Madgie,"
Humphrey says, as the time draws very near for his
departure. "I wish Georgie Delacourt were here. She
could have stayed with you while I am away."
•
But Georgie is away on a visit, having beaten a
cowardly retreat and left the field clear for Sir Jasper
Vane.
"I shall not mind being alone," I say bravely. "And
I dare say Georgie will be home before you, Hum-
phrey."
My husband's spirits get lower and lower as the hour
of his departure draws near. One little act shows his
kind heart and his love for me. Shortly before it is
time to start, he calls me into the library and hands me
a cheque for one hundred pounds.
"For Bee," he says, "I know what an expensive thing
an illness is."
Humphrey - how kind!" I say, with a mist of tears
in my eyes, and a swelling at my heart.
He listens to my faltering thanks, holds out his arms,
and I know the time is come to say good-by, and I
cling to him-sobbing.
"Humphrey, I know I ought to have gone with you.
Say you forgive me before you go!"
"Good-by, my wife my darling!" His voice is
not like his own. "Heaven keep you, Madgie! Good-
by."
}
MY MARRIAGE.
147
A few minutes afterwards I am standing alone, white
and tearful, and Humphrey is gone.
*
*
*
*
Bee's illness turns out to be very slight, and in a week
she is out of danger. It is the very mildest form of
scarlatina. Isabel and Regy take it too, equally lightly.
I am dreadfully lonely, and the days seem intermin-
able. My first letter to Humphrey causes me much
thought, especially how to address him. "Dear Hum-
phrey" looks formal, but I have written it down, and
there it stays; and the orthodox ending, "Your affec-
tionate wife," looks strangely cold. It is a very short
letter; but I do not know what to say; and there is a
whole half sheet staring me in the face in its spotless
purity. I read my letter over again, and it seems stiffer
and more stilted than ever. So over the blank half sheet
I write “I do miss you very much, Humphrey."
I know long afterwards that he kissed that one little
sentence again and again, and that the postscript was the
only part of the letter he cared to read—the few words
in which I told him that I missed him.
And I do miss him every hour of the day for time
hangs heavily on my hands, and the house is dreadfully,
painfully still. Humphrey's own room, with the unfin-
ished pictures standing against the wall, looks dreary in
the extreme. I miss the form I am so accustomed to see
sitting at the easel, but always looking up with a smile
when I appear. I long-yes, I absolutely long to hear
Humphrey's voice, for a sight of his gray eyes
eyes that are always so full of sympathy for me.
the
I must be getting fond of him, I say to myself, or I
should not miss him so much; and then I think that it
is only because I am lonely that I miss his presence and
put imaginary cases to myself.
Which would I rather see arrive - Humphrey or Bee?
I know that I would a thousand times rather hear Bee's
merry voice than my husband's deep tender tones.
Humphrey or Lena? There is a little doubt here, but
Lena carries the day.
1
148
MY MARRIAGE.
Humphrey or Helen! I think that Humphrey would
get the gladder welcome.
And so the scale of my affections runs thus I like
Humphrey nearly, but not quite, as well as Lena, though
better than Helen. But oh, how immeasurably low is
my standard of love for him compared with my love for
Bee!
With Bee's returning health my spirits revive, and the
sickening anxiety at post-time abates. I can eat and
sleep now, and cease to start at every knock, believing
every sound to be the summons to call me home. Mrs.
Steele is very anxious about me, and comes repeatedly
to see how I am getting on. She scolds me if she finds
me crying.
"For illness, ma'am, is a dispensation of Providence.
Tears won't make the young lady well; and your own
health is to be considered."
But Bee is out of danger now. The weather is fine
a mild green winter it is and weather-prophets foretell
a white March. So I go out into the world again, accept
an invitation to lunch at Ripley, and find that Captain
Delacourt is home on leave.
I think every one is a little surprised at my not going
with Humphrey ; and I fancy the outward world regards
my anxiety about Bee as an excuse to stay at home.
"So you were afraid to cross the seas, Mrs. Carstairs ?”
says Captain Delacourt. "I don't wonder; at this time
of the year it is far more comfortable on shore."
"I was not afraid," I answer.
when my sister was ill?
""
"But how could I go
He smiles, and says in a low voice
'We are the gainers; and it would have been selfish
of Carstairs to take you away when winter is the gayest
time here."
"Yes, but I cannot go to any of the gayeties when
Humphrey is away."
Oh, you must
you cannot shut yourself up! Geor
gie talks of coming home soon, and she won't be con-
tent to live quietly.
MY MARRIAGE.
149
Chris, sitting at the foot of the table, turns his smiling
blue eyes on me.
"Clive is beating about the bush, Mrs. Carstairs; he
wants to get up private theatricals, and I believe your
presence and assistance are indispensable."
"Oh, I couldn't act! I never did such a thing in my
life!" I exclaim.
"There is to be no acting," Captain Delacourt hastily
interposes. "It's only tableaux vivants; and you have
merely to stand perfectly still. They are awfully good
fun if well got up; and you must help us, Mrs. Car-
stairs."
"You must wait till Georgie comes home, Clive," Mrs.
Delacourt says. "I expect her home in about three
weeks. And a month hence will do for the tableaux
the getting up of these things is half the fun."
"What are they like?" I ask. "I have never seen
any."
Captain Delacourt proceeds to explain.
66
'Living pictures, you know. You can take any sub-
ject you like. from Beauty and the Beast to Mary
Queen of Scots on the eve of her execution. Of course
you get people as like the characters as possible, group
them after a picture, and, seen through a gauze, the
whole thing is very effective when properly lighted.
Will you be Mary Queen of Scots, Mrs. Carstairs?"
"I will be anything you like," I answer. "Mrs. Steele
told me that there used to be a trunk full of old bro-
caded silks and all kinds of antiquities at Carstairs ; but
she is not sure where the box is. I intended to search
for it when my sisters came. Perhaps the things would
be of use for the tableaux."
Captain Delacourt looks delighted.
( The very thing, Mrs. Carstairs. It is a mercy that
you did not go to New York.”
Captain Delacourt evidently goes in heart and soul
for anything he undertakes.
After luncheon, every book in the house is searched
for suitable subjects for tableaux. Chris declares him-
self incapable of giving any assistance.
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MY MARRIAGE.
"I am awfully hazy about history and all that sort of
thing. Don't ask me to suggest anything about books.
Have something modern, Clive-Arrival of the Shah
say."
"Don't bother, Chris."
Captain Delacourt has a sheet of paper and a pencil
to write down anything that is thought of. He has a
number of books around him.
Mrs. Delacourt suggests wild impossible scenes from
the Waverley Novels, which are negatived immediately
by her dutiful son Clive.
"We must have something tragic, and a few desper
ately sentimental scenes; those are the only tableaux
that are in the least effective," he says.
"The Huguenot'?" suggests Chris, his eyes light-
ing on the pictures on the wall.
"What do you say to
that, Clive?"
Captain Delacourt looks up.
66
I put that down long ago, also 'The Black Bruns-
wicker.'
"But who will take those characters?" says Chris, in
his lazy honest way. "No girl would stand like that
with a fellow unless she knew him very well.
Oh, bosh!" cries Captain Delacourt. "Leave me to
choose the characters, Chris, and they will be all right."
"Wouldn't Elaine make a pretty tableau?" I say,
looking over Tennyson.
"Yes, lying on the barge; or it would be better to
have her polishing the shield. That would be less hack-
neyed," Captain Delacourt returns.
So Elaine goes down on the list and we progress
swimmingly.
"Have something with a soldier in it. Your uniform
would come in handy, Clive."
This is another idea from Chris, brought out as usual,
after long deliberation.
"By Jove, yes! Good idea that, Chris! Mrs. Car-
stairs, suggest something with a red coat in it."
Our combined thought results in a scene with a
dead soldier and angels hovering round.
MY MARRIAGE.
151
"An awfully jolly idea!" Captain Delacourt declares.
"But how we are to get the angels I do not know. The
girls in this region are simply frightful! Mrs. Carstairs,
will you be an angel? But I think I have you in every
tableau, and it's hardly fair to give you so much to do."
Beauty and the Beast." This also is from Chris,
who seems to have a fertile imagination.
<<
"You and your husband," Captain Delacourt says
quickly, and then colors crimson. "Oh, I beg your
pardon! I don't mean anything, Mrs. Carstairs; but
Carstairs is such a big fellow, with a beard and all that,
and of course there could be no one more suitable than
yourself to act Beauty."
"Of course not," I say, laughing. "Have Beauty and
the Beast if you like. I am sure Humphrey would not
mind."
"We need not decide upon them all to-day," Chris
observes. "We have lots of time, and ideas may come
to us."
تم
CHAPTER XVIII.
T
}
WIT
ITH the wind in my face and the keen air causing
a thrill of exhilaration, I am speeding over a
wide common, leaving Peter on the brown horse far
behind.
The Ranger has not been out for a week, and he is in
wild spirits to-day; and no sooner does he feel the close
short grass under his feet than he is off, and I let him
go for a mad gallop, which sobers him a little, and then
I draw bridle and glance back to see Peter in the dim
distance.
The sea looks cold and blue to-day, with the sunshine
on the white-tipped waves, and I can feel the briny air
on my face and hear the wash of the water on the rocks.
Up against the horizon I see a horseman approaching;
152
MY MARRIAGE.
and when he gets near enough I see it is Captain Dela-
court, mounted on a gray horse. He takes off his hat,
smiling.
"Good morning, Mrs. Carstairs. Was your horse run-
ning away just now?"
"No!" I answer indignantly. "I could have pulled
him up
if I liked."
He smiles again; and I think what a very good-look-
ing man he is, and how very beautiful his dark long-
lashed eyes are. I am sure that he thinks so himself too,
from the way that he lifts his dark curled lashes and
looks at me, smiling.
"Are you angry," he says, "because I thought you
were not strong enough to pull in the Ranger?'
I shrug my shoulders.
"It is not worth being angry about; for your thinking
it, Captain Delacourt, does not prove that it is true."
He looks penitent.
1
"Please don't quarrel with me! Shall I say you are
the best horse-woman in the county? But of course
my saying or thinking it would not prove that it was
true."
say
I laugh as he catches me by my own argument, and
"Have you thought of any more tableaux ?
66
"
"I was coming over to Carstairs this morning to talk
to you about them," he says. My mother wants a tab-
leau with Amy Robsart. Will you be Amy to my Earl
of Leicester?
(6
Oh, yes!" I answer carelessly, "but I can't be every-
thing, you know."
"We are going to get the Blake girls to help. They
are all frightful however, except the little one; but for
court-scenes it will not much matter; and you and
Georgie can take all the principal characters.'
"How very unfair!" I say, laughing, "The poor
Blake girls will feel very small."
"I dont care what they feel. I have put you and
Georgię down in nearly everything."
MY MARRIAGE.
153
We are walking our horses slowly side by side over
the common.
"When is your husband coming home?" Captain
Delacourt asks.
"In about a month; but I am not sure.'
39
"I suppose you are dreadfully lonely?" he says pres-
ently.
I was at first," I answer frankly.
"But I am get-
ting accustomed to it now. If my sisters could only
come to me, I should be quite happy."
"
Then I note a curious expression in his eyes.
"Your sisters! Do sisters make happiness?
"To me they do," I answer, stroking the Ranger's
neck. “I was always perfectly happy at home till
And then the thought of Humphrey checks the words
on my lips, and sends a tide of crimson over my face.
In my confusion I draw my whip smartly across the
Ranger's shoulder. Away we go, and Captain Delacourt
is soon after me. It is a race for the next five minutes ;
and then I pull up, and we look into each other's faces,
and say no more.
Ah me! Is there never a cloud in the blue sky,
never a sigh in the wind, to warn me of storms and
breakers ahead, never a voice to say "Beware," to whis-
per of danger?
I say "Good-by" to Captain Delacourt, and nod a
smiling farewell; and on the morrow I meet the gray
horse and his rider again, and laugh at the incident,
looking at the Captain with world-innocent eyes.
"How strange that we should meet again!" I say,
and know not now, but afterwards, that he has been
watching and waiting for the last hour.
Day after day we ride together; and I find him a gay
pleasant companion, always ready to amuse, always
agreeable. I laugh and talk, and the hours go by pleas-
antly enough. And long afterwards I know that my
husband set his teeth hard under his mustache at one
little sentence in a letter of mine -“I go out riding with
Captain Delacourt every day.”
154
MY MARRIAGE.
I see no harm in it. Ignorant of the world's ways,
utterly innocent of the conclusions that might be drawn
from my conduct, I allow Captain Delacourt to be my
companion day after day, riding out with him alone.
"I can take care of you, Mrs. Carstairs," he says one
day
And so Peter is saved the trouble of doing escort
duty, and Captain Delacourt takes care of me instead.
Humphrey writes regularly. Every week brings a
long letter from him, every word breathing his passion-
ate love for my own worthless self; and I get to know
my absent husband better by these letters of his, than I
have learned to know him all the months we have lived
together. I read that he is thinking of me every hour
of the day, that he is longing and hungering for the time
that will bring him home again, home to the wife who
has no love for him, back to the heart that has never
beaten for him or any man yet.
for
Poor Humphrey! I press my lips to his letter
I am fond of him after a fashion and when I write to
him, and say I wish he were at home again, it is no
falsehood, for I do mean it. His friend Grant is getting
weaker and weaker, dying day by day; and his sister is
to be left in Humphrey's charge. My husband writes a
great deal about these two, brother and sister; and I
wonder what Felicia Grant will be like, for he is to bring
her home with him after her brother's death. It will
be only for a little while; but I am sorry. I do not
like strangers; and this Felicia Grant I have never
seen.
And then comes a letter which says that Mr. Grant is
dead, and that Humphrey and his ward are to leave
New York by the next steamer.
"My husband is coming home," I say, with a grave
smile, looking, not at Captain Delacourt, but straight
between my horse's ears.
We are riding side by side over the stretch of com-
mon which spreads far away on either side and widens
out beyond till it meets the gray sky on the far horizon.
MY MARRIAGE.
155
A row of tall elms stands up against the sky, and far
behind us lies the great sea.
The gray horse is brought a shade closer.
"When is he coming?
"In less than a fortnight; and Miss Grant is coming
with him. Her brother is dead, and Humphrey is her
guardian."
I say it all slowly and gravely, for I am sorry that
Felicia Grant is coming. And then I look up and see
my companion's eyes fixed on mine.
"What are you thinking of, Mrs. Carstairs?" he says.
"I wonder if our thoughts are the same?"
44
I am sure they are not," I answer;
dering if I shall like Felicia Grant."
"for I was won-
"And I," he says quickly, "was wondering if our
pleasant rides are to come to an end."
"Our rides - why?"-looking at him with wide-open
eyes.
"Your husband will want to ride with you himself,"
he says, a little color rising to his face.
"Humphrey never rides," I rejoin, not in the least
detecting his meaning, for that my husband might ob-
ject to my constantly having Captain Delacourt for my
companion never for one moment enters my head.
He explains himself.
"Carstairs might not approve of your riding with me
so often "
laughing as he speaks; and I laugh too.
"Oh, what nonsense! My husband will be only too
glad to have any one to take such good care of me.”
He sighs, and his face gets very grave.
"Thinking of the tableaux?" I say, laughing hila-
riously. And he turns dark angry eyes on me, which
glare into my laughing ones.
"I am not thinking of the tableaux. I wish the whole
thing was over I wish I had never come to Ripley to
spend my leave !”-
"Captain Delacourt, have you lost your senses?"
"I believe I have," he answers fiercely; and then
perhaps something in my face brings him to reason, for
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MY MARRIAGE.
he stops suddenly, and then adds, "Shall we have a
canter? There is a nice straight bit before us.”
But he does not recover his spirits or his temper for
the rest of the ride.
"You are horribly cross," I remark, when we are
saying good-by. "Don't come to-morrow if you are not
in a better humor."
"Georgie will be home then," he says gloomily; "and
we shan't see much of each other after that."
"
Why, Georgie will come too, and it will be much
pleasanter all together," I rejoin, and wonder at the
frown on his face.
"Much pleasanter! I don't see it.
I don't see it. Three are not
company, you know. Good-by, Mrs. Carstairs. I have
been very rude; but you must forgive me. I have a
bad attack of toothache."
So he rides away; and I devoutly hope that he will not
come out with me again till his toothache is better.
Georgie has returned, and throws herself heart and
soul into the projected tableaux. I have never seen her
so bright or so animated about anything. But, when it
is suggested that she should appear in a scene with Sir
Jasper Vane, she becomes cold and proud at once, and
objects to the whole thing. Chris flares up, and gives
Georgie a piece of his mind.
"Look here,
"It is all affectation," he declares.
Georgie what do you mean by it? All the parts are
planned, and they can't be altered now."
She turns her flushed face to her brother.
"If I can't choose my own part, I shan't act at all!"
Chris tugs at his mustache, and Captain Delacourt
comes to the rescue.
"Why won't you act, Georgie?"
"I never said I would not act," she answers. 'But
you have arranged everything to your own fancy, Clive;
and I might at least choose my own part. Can't
one of the Blakes be Elaine, and I can be something
else?"
It has been suggested that Georgie should be Elaine,
MY MARRIAGE.
157
and that Sir Jasper Vane should represent Sir Lancelot
leaving his shield in her charge.
Georgie cannot say that she objects to act with Sir
Jasper- it would sound too ridiculous, and provoke
comment; and in the midst of the argument Sir Jasper
himself walks in ; and, when he has shaken hands all
round, Chris, who shows great want of tact, blunders
most terribly.
"Everything has gone wrong, Jasper. Georgie won't
be Elaine; and so the whole thing has to be altered.”
Sir Jasper knits his brows for a second, and then speaks.
Can you find a substitute for Lancelot? Then I am
sure Miss Delacourt will not object to the Lily Maid.”
He looks straight at her as he speaks, a keen pene-
trating look; and Georgie answers with some spirit
"It makes no difference who Lancelot is; I think
Elaine a stupid hackneyed subject. Cannot we have
something else, Clive?"
"No; it is utterly impossible to make any alterations
Do be reasonable, Georgie!"
now.
Captain Delacourt has set his heart upon this tableau ;
for it is to have the double attraction of another picture
in the second scene, in which Elaine appears in the fore-
ground, dreaming of Lancelot and weaving sweet fancies
as her loving hand caresses his shield, while behind a
second gauze appears in the dim distance Lancelot the
brave, bending low before Guinevere.
Georgie sees that it will be bad taste to hold out any
longer, and so gives in with a good grace ; and the work
goes on smoothly.
Suitable costumes present a great difficulty; and
everybody more or less displays his or her ignorance or
knowledge by the various opinions expressed on the
subject. Books are consulted, pictures eagerly appealed
to; and, with a little ingenuity, the difficulties vanish.
"I must not forget the old trunk at Carstairs," I say.
'Suppose you all come up to-morrow morning and search
for it?"
We are a very merry party day after day at Ripley
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MY MARRIAGE.
discussing the arrangements, stage-properties, footlights,
and all the et-cæteras necessary to make the tableaux a
perfect success. Occasionally Georgie and Sir Jasper
have a war of words; but otherwise perfect harmony:
exists.
Bee is quite well again; and Regy and Isabel are in
an advanced state of convalescence. Humphrey's hun-
dred pounds is to be devoted to a month at the sea-side
in the summer; and after that, when the sea-breezes
have blown away all chance of infection, Bee and Lena
will pay their long-promised visit.
"",
We have great fun at Carstairs, searching for the box.
"Mrs. Steele, I am going to have a luncheon-party,'
I say; "so please have everything very nice."
I know I need say no more; and so my housekeeping
is easy work. I arrange the flowers, and give a few fin-
ishing touches to Bernard's preparations at the table;
and I cannot help thinking that there is some comfort
in being a rich man's wife.
"Madgie, how do you manage everything so nicely?"
Mrs. Delacourt says. And I answer cheerfully
"Oh, I leave everything to Mrs. Steele !"
We are a very merry party at luncheon
my first
entertainment without Humphrey. There is a little
laughing confusion about places; and Captain Dela-
court takes my husband's vacant place at the foot of the
table.
Shall I carve this beef, Mrs. Carstairs?" he asks,
looking with a smile down the table. "I am usurping
Carstairs' post."
Sir Jasper sits at my left hand, and Georgie next him.
She tried to get to the other side of the table beside
Mrs. Delacourt, but Chris was already seated there, and
she was obliged to take the chair offered by Sir Jasper.
However, as we all have tableaux on the brain, there is
plenty of conversation. Various rehearsals are in con-
templation, but Chris objects to this.
"Better have the whole thing impromptu. I am sure
I shall feel like having my photograph taken; and once,
goodness knows, will be enough."
MY MARRIAGE.
139
Chris turns his handsome face from one to the other,
with such an air of comical perplexity that we all laugh.
“Don't laugh, Mrs. Carstairs," he says. "Pon my
honor, I am in earnest! I know I shall feel an awful
fool; and, if I try the task before, I shall never have
the courage to go through it again.”
"You have only to stand still," Sir Jasper remarks
"to stand still and not to laugh. You can manage that,
Chris?"
"I don't know," Chris answers ruefully, "I hate be-
ing looked at."
"Then you are the first of your sex who ever hated
anything of the kind!" laughs Georgie.
"This is not business," Captain Delacourt breaks in.
"Chris, never fear, the Blake girls will admire you to
your heart's content. Jasper, how about those lights?"
And so the discussion goes on. Mrs. Delacourt gives
a smiling assent to everything; and I think Clive might
burn Ripley down if he liked.
After luncheon, we invade the housekeeper's room;
and Mrs. Steele gives me an enormous bunch of keys.
(( You will find the box in the lumber-room at the end
of the corridor, ma'am," she says; "and a strange collec-
tion it is court-dresses and the like."
"This is exciting," Captain Delacourt remarks. "Let
me carry the keys, Mrs. Carstairs."
"No," I cry, laughing. "I will open Blue Beard's
box myself."
Gathering my long dress over my arm, I hasten up-
stairs, and the others follow.
Sir Jasper comes up leisurely. I do not think he
could hurry himself to save his life, for at all times he
preserves the same dignity of demeanor. Now he comes
stalking slowly down the passage, and arrives at the
room designated the lumber-room to find us all more or
less on our knees round a great black trunk, which might,
from its size and ancient appearance, be supposed to
bear considerable resemblance to the chest in the "Mis-
tletoe Bough."
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MY MARRIAGE.
The lock defies our united efforts for a long time;
but Chris succeeds in turning the key at last, and the
treasures are disclosed to view rich old silks and bro-
cades of the last century, court-suits, fans, high-heeled
shoes, and no end of curiosities. Eagerly we examine
them, and finally carry the old dresses down to the draw-
ing-room to show them to Mrs. Delacourt. They are
without doubt the very things for theatricals.
Presently Georgie, her eyes bright and sparkling, ap-
pears as a lady of the last century, in a yellow brocade,
her hair towering high on her forehead. With an un-
moved expression Sir Jasper surveys the pleasing picture.
"It is more becoming than the present style of dress,"
he observes, and turns away, but not before a lightning
flash leaps from Georgie's eyes, and she sweeps him
a mocking courtesy.
"Tableau!” cries Captain Delacourt, with a laugh ;
and Georgie flushes crimson.
I go up-stairs with her to help her to take off the old
dress, which, I suppose, belonged to one of the old Car-
stairs of long ago.
"Georgie," I say, speaking softly for I know I am
treading on forbidden ground-"I do not think you treat
him well."
Georgie is rolling up her long dark hair again. She
turns round, her arms above her head, and her dark eyes
pitiful and earnest.
"I want him to think that he is no more to me than
than the merest stranger of my acquaintance."
"I wish you were friends again," I return, speaking
out the thought of my heart; and Georgie sweeps her
long hair over her face and says no more.
"Do your brothers know?" I ask presently; and she
answers, without turning round
66
They do not know all. When it was broken off,
Chris said I was fickle; and he also said that Sir Jasper
was his friend, and that he would not quarrel with him
on my account. And Clive was away, and never heard
anything about it."
MY MARRIAGE.
MI
"I do not think he looks happy," I observe, keenly
watching Georgie's face in the glass as I speak
you either, Georgie."
A short laugh breaks from her curved red lips.
"nor
"I am as happy as possible. Don't take fancies into
your head, Madgie; and, above all things, never imag-
ine that a peace could be patched up between him and
me. I have never suited his ideas; and it is much
better as it is.”
CHAPTER XIX.
HUMPHREY and
UMPHREY is coming home to-night. In an hour
he will be with me; and I am glad, really
truly glad, and mean to give him a very smiling, pleased
welcome. The idea of Felicia Grant I keep steadily in
the background. I do not like strange faces, and I wish
she was not coming; but I do not suppose she will be
much in my way.
I go to dress, for it behooves me to look fair in my
husband's eyes, and it is only right that I should look
my best. If I can please him in no other fashion, at
least the face he loves must look its fairest for his sake.
I array myself in a long sheeny dress of ivory-white, put
a bunch of fresh violets and snowdrops in my hair, an-
other in the front of my dress, and stand looking at my
reflection, with a grave face and saddened eyes. I am
young, well dressed, passing fair with the beauty that is
said to be but skin-deep; and yet I turn away with a
sigh from the contemplation of a face that might well
give pleasure to its owner.
Slowly I go down the wide staircase, thinking gravely
of the husband I am so soon to meet, picturing to myself
how his whole face will light up, how lips and eyes will
smile a joyous greeting at first sight of me, his wife,
standing at the open door to welcome him home.
II
16
MY MARRIAGE.
The house looks warm and comfortable. There are
flashing, gleaming lights in dark corners and a ruddy
light from heaped-up fires. There is a glow in the west
still, where the February sky is streaked with pale gold
and opal, and the delicate tracery of the elm-trees stands
out clear and well defined in the yellow light.
-
Standing in the deep window, behind the heavy cur-
tains, I am looking out, listening for the first sound of
the carriage-wheels. How quiet the night is! Not a
sound is to be heard but the distant wash and murmur
of the restless sea. The violet and gray shadows are
creeping over the sky and blotting out the pale fires
in the west. And I am sad- I know not why- with
a swelling in my heart sad, and my husband returning
home. It comes back to me all at once with a rush, the
awful wrong I did Humphrey when I became his wife, a
wrong that can never be set right. By no possibility can
I undo that act. And I do not love him. I try to think
I do; but it is more an affection born of pity that I feel
than anything else; and when he comes home I shall not
be glad to feel his arms around me and his kisses on my
face.
Poor Humphrey! I am pleased that he is coming
home, because I am lonely, and because I am getting
used to this grave husband of mine, with his warm loving
heart the heart that is so quick to feel, so ready to
respond to kind word or look of mine.
66
I will care for him," I say in a low passionate tone,
I will live for him." And I press my hands together,
and vow to myself that I mean to keep my word.
There is a grinding of wheels coming up the avenue,
and I fly out to the hall. Bernard throws open the
door, and I stand in the flood of light. The carriage
door opens, and a tall figure springs out. I see my hus-
band's face turn to me for a second, and then he helps
Felicia Grant out, and together they come up the steps.
Humphrey !" I cry with a little gasp and both hands
outstretched; and I feel his strong arms strain me
tightly to his breast for one moment.
MY MARRIAGE.
163
"Wife, darling!" he says in his rich voice, tremulous
in its glad eagerness; and then he lets me go. 'This is
Felicia, Madgie."
J
I turn, and hold out a hand to a slim figure robed in
black from head to foot. I say a few shy words of welcome
as we come into the hall, and the usual fuss of an arrival
is going on. Bernard is actively engaged in carrying in
rugs and wraps. By the light in the hall I can see Fe-
licia Grant's face.
She seems to be about my own height, with a very
pale oval face, and eyes that I can only describe as
fawn-like, they are so shrinking and timid. Her hair is
very fair, and hangs in a long thick plait down her back,
reaching to her waist. She looks very tired, very sad,
and there are black circles round her sorrowful brown
eyes.
"I am sure you are very tired,” I say, " would you not
like to come up to your room?"
"Thank you,” she answers in a very sad weary voice
and I see Humphrey's eyes watching me with the old
look of adoration.
"Come - I will lead the way." And the sad black
figure follows me up the staircase and along the
corridor to the room that I have chosen to be her habi-
tation. It is one of the sunny apartments that I
arranged with such loving care for Bee and Lena,
and with a pang I see a new inmate passing over the
threshold.
Felicia Grant turns her pale wistful face to me as we
enter the room and the bright fire gleams a welcome.
"Thank you, Mrs. Carstairs," she says.
'You are
very kind to have me here, and your husband has been
very good to me; I can never forget all his kindness
when
The soft eyes suddenly fill with tears and the faltering
words stop. So pitiful and sad she looks that I take
her hand and hold it in mine.
“You must not talk of kindness; and I hope you will
be happy with us."
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MY MARRIAGE.
The tears roll down her cheeks, and she raises her
other hand to brush them away.
"You are tired," I say kindly. "I will send
"I will send my maid
to help you; and do not dress for dinner to-night, for
we are quite alone."
Humphrey comes down presently, and finds me stand-
ing by the fire in the drawing-room, gazing dreamily into
the leaping jets of flame.
"Madgie!" he says softly, and puts his arm around
me. My child, it is good to see your sweet face
again."
Leaning my head against his breast, I look up into the
eyes so full of love that are bent on mine.
And, Humphrey, I am glad you have come home,"
I whisper, and feel him raise my hands with a quick pas-
sionate movement to lay them about his neck.
"Madgie, it is worth all the weary weeks to hear
such words from your lips. Kiss me, darling, a kiss of
welcome."
I give him the caress that he asks for, and then stand
by his side, smiling to hear his joy at coming home
again.
"And my wife is looking so pretty," he says. "Felicia
has been longing to see you, Madgie. I have de-
scribed you so often that you are no stranger to her,
dear."
"Humphrey, is she grieving much for her brother?
she looks so sad."
"Yes, poor child; she feels his loss greatly. He was
the only relative she had in the world, and now he is
gone. Her grief was very terrible for the first few days
after his death."
"Tell me about him, Humphrey."
My husband's voice grows sad.
"Poor Grant! His joy to see me was very great; he
died quite happy after that, when he knew Felicia would
have a friend. I think you will like her, Madgie; she is
very quiet and gentle."
As he is speaking Felicia Grant comes slowly into the
MY MARRIAGE.
165
room. She has been crying, and her eyes look heavy
with tears.
Humphrey wheels round a large chair to the fire.
Felicia, I am sure you are cold and tired," he says;
and she thanks him with a shy smile.
And then we talk about the journey till Bernard an-
nounces that dinner is ready.
I observe Felicia Grant more closely in the full light,
and find something very attractive in the pale oval face
and the dark fringed brown eyes. Her fair hair is
drawn back simply from her forehead, showing the deli-
cate blue-veined temples, and she has very thick and
long hair hanging in a great heavy plait tied with black
ribbon. I am sure that she must be very pretty when
not quite so weary and sad-looking; and on the whole
I am favorably impressed by Felicia Grant.
She is very
clever, Humphrey says, and an artist; and it is well for
the poor girl that she has been endowed with such gifts;
for she has to work for herself now, and intends to be a
governess when she can hear of a situation that is suit-
able.
Humphrey's face is a study to-night; his eyes follow
my every movement, and he smiles when I look in his
direction. It makes me sad to have any one so dread-
fully fond of me, to think that the touch of my fingers,
the sound of my voice, send a thrill through his heart
and awake an echo there. Why does he care for me?
What did he see and find in me to waste all his love and
lavish the affection of his whole nature on my loveless
.self-for I am without love for him?
Felicia Grant goes to bed early. I see her to her
room, and then go down again and join my husband in
the library. He is sitting by the fire, smoking, and
looks up with a smile as I come flitting in and kneel
down on the hearth-rug at his feet. The light shines
on his face, on his thick curly beard, and gleams in his
smiling eyes. How well I know the grave rugged face
now! How familiar is the long figure leaning back in
the leather arm-chair and looking down at me, as, with
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MY MARRIAGE.
one elbow on his knee, my chin on my open palm, I
gaze up into my husband's face! I have something to
say to him, and the sooner I say it the better.
"L
Humphrey, were you angry because I would not go
with you to New York?
""
He puffs slowly at his precious meerschaum for a
couple of seconds, and then speaks.
"What made you think that, my child?
"Because I know I ought to have gone," I answer in
a low voice, like a child confessing a fault, my eyes fixed
on his face. "But, Humphrey, I could not; for, if Bee
had died, I should never have been happy again."
It was a choice between Bee and your husband, and
you let your heart decide," he says, not sadly, but with
a strange quietness of voice and manner; and his hand
steals down to my shoulder. "Madgie, I do not think
you could even guess what it cost me to leave you and
go away alone!
""
"Did you think I was unkind? I falter; and a little
gleam of a smile creeps into his eyes.
"Not unkind. But it is all over now, Madgie. I have
come home, and my wife is glad to see me again.”
"Yes, for I was very lonely ;" and my eyes smile back
into his.
"Lonely always?" he says.
The question is put suddenly and abruptly, with a
change in his voice; and I look at him quickly as I
answer
"I was never lonely at Ripley, or when I was out
riding with Captain Delacourt."
The moment the words have passed my lips I am
sorry, for I see that I have made a mistake; and a
strange hard look comes into Humphrey's face.
"I do not think I was much missed, after all," he says
in a harsh whisper. "I was a fool to expect it!"
Frightened by his manner, hurt to the heart by his
hard, bitter words, I bent my head and burst out sob-
bing.
Humphrey, Humphrey, what have I said ?”
MY MARRIAGE.
167
66
Nothing," he answers stiffly, and then suddenly
stoops and presses me to him tightly, uttering not a
word; but a deep sigh breaks from his lips.
Ah me, what a miserable marriage mine is! I can-
not make my husband happy!
By-and-by I look into his face, and see the cloud there,
heavy and black still.
Humphrey,” I say, "shall I tell you a vow I made
this evening, when I was watching for you to come
home?"
He does not answer he only looks back steadily
into my eyes.
"It was to live for you,” I say. "And I meant it—
indeed I did, Humphrey !"
"I believe you, my child," he answers; but there is
no gleam of joy, no smile. only weary acquiescence.
I rise from the hearth-rug and stand in silence by the
fire; my long sheeny robe lies about my feet; on my
finger gleams my broad gold ring—and it alone seems
to catch every gleam and sparkle of firelight.
"Come here," Humphrey requests; and I go back to
his side and stand, stiff and straight, by his chair, my
hands clasped together. "Madgie," he says, and lays
his hand over mine, "when I told my friend Grant that
my wife was very beautiful, he said, "Take care then that
you keep hold of her heart, and keep her whole love for
you own
all her heart.' Ah, Madgie, I think it is a
very faint hold I have, after all!"
I do not understand his meaning, nor why his eyes
look so sadly up into mine.
"I do like you, Humphrey," I say with pitiful earnest-
ness. Don't you believe that I do?
66
"I believe that you like me yes."
Oh, dear! Is it always to be this old question of
liking and loving? With a sudden rush of feeling I
bend low till my lips rest on his forehead.
Humphrey, my husband, I am happy with you.
Won't you believe that I want nothing more now?"
Only Bee between us?" he asks in a strange quick
whisper; and I can see the blood rush to his temples.
(6
168
MY MARRIAGE.
"Only Bee," I answer, and smile gayly, for we are
friends again. And a great contentment comes into my
husband's face.
Five minutes afterwards I am sitting by his side
laughing and talking, telling him of the tableaux in
prospect. Humphrey is pleased, and laughs at my
humorous description of the many difficulties sur-
mounted. Beauty and the Beast brings a smile
to his face; but it dies away when he hears it was
Captain Delacourt's suggestion.
66
""
FE
CHAPTER XX.
`ELICIA GRANT does not trouble me much afte,
all; she is very quiet, and spends a great deal of
her time in her own room. She will not go beyond the
grounds. I think her grief is too keen and recent to
make it possible for her to go amongst strangers yet.
In a week we have all settled down again, Humphrey
to his painting, Felicia to quiet solitude, and the tableaux
occupy nearly all my thoughts and time. The invita-
tions have gone out; we have written to London for the
dresses; and we are all trying diligently to read up our
parts, so that we shall look the characters when the
time comes. Chris takes upon himself the building and
arrangement of the stage, and Captain Delacourt is stage
manager.
Every morning finds me at Ripley, for we are sup-
posed to be preparing for a full-dress rehearsal, at which
the Misses Blake are to appear, also one or two mild
young men belonging to the neighborhood, suitable for
the insignificant parts allotted to them. There seems to
be a truce between Georgie and Sir Jasper, for there has
been peace between them for fully three days.
MY MARRIAGE.
169
Humphie, laughingly declares that he might as well
have no wife, as he sees so little of me; and every after-
noon he comes over to Ripley, either on foot or in the
carriage, to take me home.
"I will walk home with you, Mrs. Carstairs," Captain
Delacourt says on one occasion. "It is a shame to drag
your husband over here every day away from his pic-
tures."
And quite innocently I say to Humphrey one morn-
ing, as I peep into his atelier to say good-by
(6
Captain Delacourt will bring me home; so you need
not trouble to come over."
Humphrey says nothing; he only lays down his brush
and mahl-stick and rises to his feet.
66
Good-by," I say gayly, and nod to Felicia, who
raises her eyes and smiles gravely I often wonder
what she is thinking of, sitting so quietly at her easel
hour after hour. "Good-by, Humphrey; I shall be
back for afternoon tea."
I try to slip past him as he stands, tall and silent,
blocking up the doorway.
"Won't you let me pass?" I say, looking up at him
laughingly, and then back at Felicia, who is sitting with
her head bent over her work, and a great white apron
over her black dress. "Humphrey !
Not a word comes from him; and, with a half start, I
see that only by a strong effort is he keeping himself
under control.
"I will come down-stairs with you," he says, getting
out the words with difficulty, as if afraid of saying more.
He opens the door wide. I pass out, and he follows,
shutting the door again; and together we go down the
stairs and into the hall. There we pause, and look one
at the other, I never dreaming of the storm of passion
rising and surging in his heart as I stand, gay and care-
less, arrayed in velvet and furs, laughing up at him as he
looks at me.
"Why, Humphrey, what is the matter?"
""
Madgie, I wish you to wait at Ripley till I come for
you this afternoon.”
170
MY MARRIAGE.
I gaze at him in astonishment.
"Of course, if you wish it. But why need you come,
when you are so busy at your picture?
"
The veins in his temples stand out suddenly like cords.
"Because I think I am the fittest escort for my wife."
At the tone in his voice I feel the blood rush to my
face; but no dawning of his real meaning reaches me
yet. Only the old grievance recurs to my mind, and I
try to set matters straight.
!
Humphrey, I should like you to come ; but I fancied
that in these short days you liked all the light for your
picture."
"My picture before my wife?" he says bitterly.
"Madgie, subterfuges do not suit you. Oh, child, would
to Heaven. I had never left you!"
What does he mean? With a strange shiver I creep
a little nearer to him.
(6
Humphrey, what is it? I will stay at home if you
wish. I cannot go and think all day that you are angry
with me."
((
Angry with you!" he murmurs, with a quiver of un-
utterable tenderness in his voice. "My little Madgie,
Heaven forgive me if I have judged you wrongly !
“Did you think I did not want to walk home with you,
Humphrey?" my faltering voice breaks in; and I look
up with wet eyes.
"Go, my child," he says, and stooping, presses his
lips to my upturned face.
"You will come for me?" I interrogate, and, woman-
like, get the best of the quarrel after all.
66
Yes, I will come," he says, with a strange smile
dawning in his eyes.
*
*
We are
The stage is complete, the arrangements for lighting
the tableaux are perfect, and — oh, triumph of art!
the curtain goes up and down without a hitch.
at the height of bliss when Humphrey walks in in the af
ter-noon and stands suddenly in the midst of us.
MY MARRIAGE.
171
"I said I would see you home," says Captain Dela-
court; and his dark eyes look suddenly into mine.
66
Humphrey wished to come," I answer carelessly,
not heeding the implied reproach in his tone; "and it
will save you the trouble, Captain Delacourt."
Then Humphrey comes up, courteous and pleasant,
talking to Georgie, who is chattering away at his elbow.
'Mr. Carstairs," she says, "you must come to the re-
hearsal to-morrow night—a full-dress rehearsal. The
Blakes are to be here, Jack Harpington, and everybody ;
and you are to be Sisera to my Jael."
—
"I will be anything you like," Humphrey answers,
laughing. "Madgie, are you ready? It is getting late."
My husband and I drive home in silence. I feel
aggrieved I know not why- and come to the unwise
conclusion that Humphrey's visit to America has not
improved his temper, or that the advent of Felicia Grant
has made him less tolerant of my many faults and
failings.
The next day I see him studying with a grave expres-
sion the programme of the tableaux vivants.
"You are in everything with Captain Delacourt," he
remarks quietly. "How is that, Madgie?"
"I don't know. He arranged it all," I answer; “and
I am sure it does not signify."
Humphrey knits his brows, lays the programme down,
and says no more.
He goes with me to the rehearsal in the evening; and
not for one moment do I dream of the thoughts passing
through his mind. In the excitement that follows, the
whirl and hurry of dressing for the different characters.
I forget a certain grave foreboding look that seems to
be haunting my husband's face and taking up its station
there.
I think Georgie forgets that she is Elaine; and the
sad face bent over Sir Lancelot's shield is sorrowful,
more from her own thoughts than the love that wore
away the life of the "Lily Maid of Astolat."
"I have gone mad; I love you; let me die."
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MY MARRIAGE.
Her long lashes droop and quiver when Sir Jasper,
clad in armor from head to foot, looking a veritable
Lancelot, stands at her side.
I can feel nothing but amusement—a wild glee and hi-
larity at the whole thing; and Amy Robsart laughs in the
Earl of Leicester's face, and in the second scene smiles
gleefully at the Queen's feet; for Elinor Blake, who rep-
resents Queen Elizabeth, takes the part in a very fury
of indignation (for even the wildest imagination cannot
call her hair auburn red it is undeniably); and Miss
Blake is cut to the heart at poor Chris saying ignor-
antly
"I think you will make a famous Queen Elizabeth."
So I laugh, and answer with a gay smile Leicester's
adoring looks.
"You must not look like that," he whispers, bending
his head and looking every inch a courtier in his rich and
costly dress. 'Mrs. Carstairs, cannot you feel it more
than that?"
"Feel what?" I ask mischievously; for the Earl's
face is getting distressed.
"Feel as Amy must have felt for Leicester," he whis-
pers, and holds my hand. "Will this do, Chris?" he
calls out.
Madgie," cries Georgie, "you must not laugh!"
And I try to think of Amy Robsart and look grave.
Poor Chris! his comely face is flushed and his blue
eyes are full of trouble. He appears in the next scene,
evidently quite "at sea" about his part, and feeling any-
thing but at home in the dress of a Prussian cavalry
soldier.
This tableau is entitled in the programme “ Incident of
the Franco-German War," and represents a soldier bid-
ding a touching farewell to his sweetheart. Mildred
Blake, with a fair wig and a long plait down her back,
takes the part of the sobbing Gretchen, and seems noth-
ing loath to precipitate herself into the stalwart arms of
Chris. Crimsoning to the roots of his fair hair, Chris
takes her hand gingerly and retreats across the stage as
MY MARRIAGE.
173
she advances, nearly tripping over his steel scabbard in
his confusion.
Captain Delacourt calls out laughingly –
"Steady, Chris; and don't stand like a poker!
"What am I to do?" poor Chris says; and his face
upsets all our gravity.
Captain Delacourt comes to the rescue.
(C
I say, Chris, can't you imagine what a fellow must
feel when leaving the girl he cares for, and all that?"
"I can't imagine what I have never felt. Will this
do?"-standing at attention three feet at least from
Miss Blake, who looks plaintively up into his handsome
face.
"Miss Blake feels the part," observes Sir Jasper.
"You are pleased to be satirical, Sir Jasper," says
Georgie; and she looks at him, standing with her long
hair flowing over her shoulders as she appears as Jael
the wife of Heber.
"Put your heart in your face, Chris," says Captain
Delacourt, who is at his wits' end. "Carstairs, could
you group them?" he adds.
Humphrey accordingly advances to the stage, bends
Chris's stiff elbow, and places Gretchen close to him,
with one hand over her eyes and the other held tightly
by the soldier.
((
Capital! It takes an artist to group a picture!
cries Georgie. "Oh, Chris, you look splendid!"
"I feel an awful fool!" he says; and beats an rgno-
minious retreat.
""
Miss Blake looks from one to another appealingly.
"Did I look well? I felt so frightened.
We all assure her that she looked the part and more,
and the rehearsal goes on with unabated vigor.
"How Bee would glory in this!" I say to Humphrey ;
and he smiles.
"I think you glory in it, Madgie,” he answers. “ "Look,
that is a pretty scene."
It is Georgie and her brother Clive representing
"The Huguenots," Mrs. Delacourt's propriety having
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MY MARRIAGE.
taken fright at any but brother and sister taking part in
such a touching scene. Georgie looks very pretty with
her hair swept off her face and her dark earnest eyes
uplifted.
I see Sir Jasper watching her, and he ends his con-
templation with a short weary sigh. By a clever appli-
cation of soap Captain Delacourt has made away with
his mustache, and his handsome regular features suit the
character well.
"You did that well, Clive," Sir Jasper says. "The
attitude and expression were perfect."
Captain Delacourt laughs.
"I was trying to believe it was not Georgie," he an
swers; and suddenly our eyes meet, and something in the
expression of his makes my cheeks burn. His dark eyes
so plainly tell his meaning that I crimson with anger.
It all passes in a second, and then I hear Georgie
calling me; for "Beauty and the Beast" is the next
scene on the programme. The curtain rises on a gar-
den of roses, and the Beast is lying dead, with Beauty
kneeling beside him. Humphrey is enveloped in dark
woolly skins, and roses lie around. I laugh as I bend
over the poor Beast, and the curtain falls.
Captain Delacourt suggested that when it rose again
there should be a transformation, and that he should be
the Prince instead of Humphrey.
"For Carstairs is too tall, and princes don't wear
beards."
((
'They do in this country," was my rejoinder.
And so my husband stands as the Prince, gloriously
attired in silk and silver lace; and there are wonderful
lights and rosy hues that make the stage a veritable
fairy land.
"Beauty got to love the poor Beast," Humphrey says,
with one of his grave sweet smiles. "Remember that,
Beauty."
66
Yes, Beast," I answer; and Mrs. Delacourt says
this is the prettiest tableau of all.
MY MARRIAGE.
175
Felicia, I wish you were coming." I am standing
dressed in the drawing-room, waiting for the carriage.
and I present a strange contrast to Felicia Grant in her
"I am afraid you will be lonely."
black crape.
She smiles a little sadly.
"I mean to study. If I am to teach, I must learn;
and I had better begin my new life at once."
She
A bracelet falls from my wrist on to the ground.
picks it up and clasps it on my arm, and then her sad
sweet eyes look up into mine.
"Mrs. Carstairs, do you know what your husband said
of you?"
"No. Tell me."
"That you had the sweetest, most lovable face that
was ever given to woman; and he spoke the truth."
"The sweetness is all in my face then," I say with
some bitterness. "Felicia, I should be a happier woman
if I had a better heart and a less lovely face."
"Our hearts are what we make them," she whispers
softly.
In silence I look at the quiet figure in the sombre
garments, and wish with a sudden wild longing for the
dear old home-life, with Bee's companionship to make my
happiness. Oh for the days when I was madcap Madgie,
happy and light-hearted, before men told me my face
was fair, before poor loving Humphrey staked his hap-
piness on the beauty of a girl's face and wasted his
manhood in trying to win a child's love!
"Our hearts are what we make them
Grant says.
But I ask myself, is it not
so Felicia
rather that
they become what they are through the action of
others?
彝
​"Why so grave, Madgie?"
Humphrey's voice breaks in upon my reverie; and I
say with sudden and well-assumed cheerfulness —
"How do you like my dress? "
I think as I speak what a fine-looking man my hus-
band is, and how perfect a gentleman he looks in his
evening dress! And, in spite of the beard, I find an
176
MY MARRIAGE.
absolute pleasure in contemplating the grave rugged
face with the gleam of laughter in the eyes.
"How do I like your dress?" he echoes, stepping
back a little and gazing more at my face than the dress.
"You look like Marguérite to-night."
I am wearing a plain white cashmere dress, with
sleeves tight to the wrist and puffed at the shoulder.
It is made high to the throat, with a ruff of lace and swan's-
down. Round my neck is a broad gold chain with a
locket, and I wear gold bracelets to match.
"Do you like it?" I ask, and read the approval in his
eyes before he speaks.
"I won't say all I think," he returns, smiling. "The
dress suits you and you suit the dress.
What do you
say, Felicia?"
66
I think it is very pretty and very becoming," she an-
swers.
And other people think so besides Humphrey and
Felicia.
Madgie, I never saw you look so well! Your dress
is lovely!" Georgie whispers. And everybody is ask-
ing if the beautiful Mrs. Carstairs is to be here to-
night. I am so glad you are looking your best!"
Captain Delacourt is in a state of wild excitement,
and Chris is at his wits' end.
"This dressing up is too much for me," he says pit-
eously. "Mrs. Carstairs, will you tell me what I am
to do, for I have not an idea when or where I appear,
or anything."
"No humbug, Chris!" calls out Clive.
Captain Delacourt is terribly in earnest to-night, for
something has gone wrong with the curtain. When it is
up, human ingenuity fails to bring it down again. But
Humphrey succeeds in putting it right. The lamps are
lighted, and the stage is dazzlingly bright.
At the last moment most of the actors follow the ex-
ample of Chris, and grow nervous suddenly. The three
Misses Blake, in a state of excessive nervousness and
frantic excitement, seem to think of nothing but rouge
MY MARRIAGE.
177
and powder. With their faces plentifully floured,
cheeks reddened, and eyebrows blackened, they are evi-
dently satisfied with their appearance.
"Won't you make up your face, Mrs. Carstairs?" they
ask in a breath, as I stand arrayed as Mary, Queen of
Scots, in black velvet and diamonds, with my face as
nature made it.
"Mrs. Carstairs is independent of that sort of thing,"
Georgie says, with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
I see the Misses Blake exchange glances; and, with
a laugh, I run down-stairs, and find Captain Delacourt
waiting impatiently as Darnley.
66
My Queen!" he says, and bows low before me, his
plumed hat in his hand. His rich dress suits the lithe
well-made figure admirably, and right well and hand-
some he looks. "Am I forgiven?" he whispers, raising
soft penitent eyes.
I know that he refers to his look and meaning last
night.
""
I never forgive impertinence," I answer in an equal-
ly low voice, blushing as I speak, and then look up to
see Humphrey watching me intently, with a stern unlov-
ing expression.
MY
CHAPTER XXI.
Y four Marys come flocking in, Georgie as sweet
sad Mary Hamilton. And I think there is a sim-
ilitude, for Georgie is pale and pensive. I know she is
thinking of the time when she must stand as Elaine,
and never let the world dream that she loves Sir Lance-
lot verily and truly as dearly and hopelessly as the
Lily Maid." So Mary Hamilton's eyes are sad with
no imaginary sorrow.
<<
13
178
MY MARRIAGE.
:
It is the first tableau, and we all feel a thrill as the
strains of music fall upon our ears and the curtain rises
slowly. I know there are rows and rows of people
watching us, and I gaze with a fixed smile at Darnley
bowing before me in a graceful attitude, his white plume
sweeping the ground, and his hat held unswervingly in
the same position. The two minutes seem an eternity;
then the curtain falls. We hear a burst of applause, and
the Queen, her Marys, and Darnley feel immensely flat-
tered.
"You have brought down the house," Darnley whis-
pers; "but I doubt if Mary herself was one half as fair."
And so the tableaux go on, all more or less successful.
Chris, rendered bold by despair, comes to the front in a
manner that I think surprises himself as much as every
one else. The Misses Blake flutter and quiver, and lay
on more powder and rouge at every opportunity.
"Stop them, for mercy's sake!" says Captain Dela-
court. "There is no necessity for this tremendous mak-
ing-up."
Humphrey looks bored and unhappy. Flushed with
excitement, I have no time to study his grave looks.
But when the curtain falls on Leicester and Amy Robsart,
I find Humphrey waiting for me at the stage door; and,
ignoring the Earl of Leicester, he takes care of me him-
self.
"Mrs. Carstairs is tired. I was going to get her a
glass of wine," Captain Delacourt says eagerly.
But Humphrey walks past him and gets the wine him-
self.
"When is this mummery to stop?" he asks. “Madgie,
there has been too much of it far too much."
"C
}
It is nearly over now," I answer cheerfully
"and
we are going to dance afterwards Chris is getting the
room cleared. Shall I keep all the quadrilles for you,
Humphrey?"
Georgie comes hurrying in.
"
Madgie, you must go and dress. And, Mr. Car-
stairs, you ought to be attiring for the Beast."
#
MY MARRIAGE.
179
By-and-by, when the tableaux are all over, a little
group of us are congregated together just before the
dancing begins.
Miss Delacourt, how well you act!" lisps Jack Har-
pington.
((
Yes," cries Mildred Blake, "she looked so like
Elaine Fancy, Mrs. Carstairs, she had real tears in
her eyes!"
I feel quite angry with Mildred Blake as I note the
pride and distress struggling in poor Georgie's face.
Sir Jasper has heard every word, and I am glad to see
that he has the good feeling to turn away and take no
notice.
The next moment the music strikes up. There is a
rush and confusion, and a quadrille party is rapidly
formed. Two men make their way in my direction;
one is Captain Delacourt, the other my husband. They
both reach me together.
"May I?" begins Captain Delacourt.
(6
Madgie, this is our dance," Humphrey says in a
quick and determined manner; and I lay my hand upon
his arm and go with him, but not before I hear a voice
whisper in a quick disappointed tone-
"The next waltz then, please."
In perfect amity Humphrey and I dance the quadrille.
Beauty and the Beast," Georgie says gayly.
(6
Carstairs, never was man more maligned."
"
"Mr.
Beauty and the Prince," I return, and see my tall
grave husband smile suddenly into my mirthful face.
"I wonder if I have quite forgotten how to waltz?
he says presently. "Madgie, would you mind trying a
turn with me by-and-by?”
I promise to waltz with him as many times as he
pleases, and wonder meanwhile why Humphrey has sud-
denly come out as a dancer.
Everybody is dancing with much glee and with des-
perate energy, as people usually do at an impromptu
dance which comes with the delight of an unexpected
pleasure. To the great joy of the Misses Blake, and
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MY MARRIAGE.
indeed all the eligible and ineligible girls present, offr
cers are plentiful to-night; and, the men being in
the majority, even ugly uninteresting girls are in de
mand.
"I thought your husband did not go in for fast
dances?" Captain Delacourt says.
"He has waltzed
with you three times. Mrs. Carstairs, it is
Mrs. Carstairs, it is very unfair
-turning his reproachful eyes on me.
""
"Poor Humphrey, he can't dance a bit!" I say,
laughing. "But it amuses him."
"And our step suits perfectly," Captain Delacourt
murmurs, and then abruptly, "I am going away next
week."
Are you ?" I answer, with cool careless indifference.
"Has your leave of absence come to an end?”
"Yes; and it is just as well"-speaking shortly, his
fingers playing with the tassel of my fan, his head bent
down.
(6
"Why so grave, Leicester?" I ask gayly.
"Do not question me about my thoughts, Mrs. Car-
stairs," he says, his eyes flashing suddenly into mine.
For Heaven's sake, don't look at me with those inno-
cent childish eyes of yours! You do not know what
I am!"
At the unwonted agitation of his voice and manner I
become warm and uncomfortable.
"I do not understand you," I falter.
"Thank Heaven you don't!" he returns in a low
tone, his face averted. "There, Mrs. Carstairs, I have
broken your fan! I am very sorry !
""
Unconsciously he has crushed the poor little white fan
in his grasp. It was Bee's wedding-present to me, and I
am very sorry that it is broken. Taking it from him, I
look sadly at the wreck.
"You must allow me to replace it," he whispers.
66
66
No," I answer you could not, for my sister Bee
gave me this when I was married."
"And any relic of that occasion is, I am sure, very
precious," he rejoins, and then more bitterly, "Mrs. Car
MY MARRIAGE.
181
stairs, you are a very good actress ; no one can tell which
is acting and which reality."
"Mrs. Carstairs, may I have the pleasure of this
dance?" a voice breaks in.
"Yes," I say, and go off gleefully with Sir Jasper
Vane, glad to get rid of Captain Delacourt; for I hate
men in queer humors, and he is evidently decidedly out
of sorts this evening.
Something prompts me to prove Sir Jasper a little
about his feelings towards Georgie. I have noticed that
only once has he danced with her, and yet his steady
eyes look frequently in her direction. Georgie is in high
spirits again, either real or assumed, talking gayly, with
sparkling eyes that look as if tears have long been stran-
gers there.
(6
'I like Georgie Delacourt better every day," I remark.
"And her face is so pretty - - lovely sometimes. Do you
not think so?
""
Does he think of the white arms that clung so pitifully
about his neck once? I fancy he does, for his voice is
full of suppressed feeling when he speaks.
"Mrs. Carstairs, I know what I thought of her face
once, and also that it is better for me not to think too
much about her now."
Long after I think of his words; and it seems strange
that these two, who care so much for each other still,
should be divided, when three words would reconcile
them. I am sure that if I cared for any one
which I
do not I would rather live at war with that one per-
son than at peace with any one else. It seems almost
absurd to see Sir Jasper Vane and Georgie Delacourt
both thoroughly miserable, both wretchedly unhappy,
and each behaving as if the other were an object of the
utmost indifference.
With girlish impetuosity I speak out my thoughts.
"I wish you and Georgie were friends again.'
His face is inscrutable. I have never met any man
who could keep such control over his thoughts. His
answer sends the blood to my cheeks, and I feel misera-
bly snubbed.
:
MY MARRIAGE.
182
" Pardon me, Mrs. Carstairs, but I do not wish to
discuss the subject." A moment later he smiles quite
pleasantly. "Shall we have another turn?
is pretty clear now.
""
The room
I am biting my lip with vexation, and wishing that I
had more tact.
"I am afraid I have offended you by my plain speak-
ing," says Sir Jasper, as the clear space becomes sud-
denly full of gyrating couples, and we retire gracefully.
((
No," I answer, smiling again; "it was my fault. I
don't think I shall ever learn the ways of the world, Sir
Jasper, and know when to say a thing and when not.”
The ways of the world!" he repeats musingly.
"The bondage we are all more or less subservient to!
Don't get used to it, Mrs. Carstairs; keep fresh and
natural while you can.”
"Is the world unnatural?" I ask, looking at the frag-
ments of Bee's poor little fan.
Unnatural? Need you ask? Is not the whole thing
a sham, a great living sham? And the hearts of the
living men and women are the greatest shams of all.”
It is like one of Georgie's speeches, like one of her
reckless assertions. He strokes his mustache as he
speaks, and his eyes look suddenly at Georgie herself,
standing radiant, with a group of worshippers around.
"All shams," he goes on. “None of them live up to
what they really think."
I have often wondered why, when the world goes
wrong with people, they should find solace in railing at
the rest of human nature. When things go well, the
world, shams and all, is a good world enough; but, when
the tide turns, all the goodness seems to vanish, and it is
all hollow, only tinsel and mockery.
Even Sir Jasper is bitter, and yet I have heard him
condemn the bitter vein in Georgie.
MY MARRIAGE.
183
7
IT
CHAPTER XXII.
T is very dark as Humphrey and I drive home at two
in the morning; not a star is visible, and the clouds
seem to come down and reach the earth.
Captain Delacourt escorted me to the carriage, and I
cannot forget the look on his face; it startled me then,
and it startles me still, as we roll on in the quiet dark-
ness, wearied and fatigued, with the sound of dance-
music and the hum of many voices still ringing in my
ears. Leicester's face haunts me as he looked this
evening.
"Did you enjoy it?" I say to my husband.
the tableaux pretty, Humphrey?"
"Weren't
I feel a feminine desire to discuss the whole thing
over again, remembering how, when long ago wé girls
at home went to a small party, we used to meet in
Helen's room, or mine perhaps, and talk over every
incident of the evening with a keen delight I can never
feel about parties now the joyous old times when
Lena once gave a rosebud to a blushing lieutenant and
kept the rest of the bouquet forever as a memento.
How Bee questioned and cross-questioned, and wove a
romance on the spot founded on Lena's poor little rose-
bud!
To-night I feel the old girlish longing to have a good
talk, to discuss everything and everybody; but to my
leading questions Humphrey makes little response.
"I am glad you enjoyed yourself, my child," he says;
and, from the tone of his voice, I infer that he did not.
"( Are you tired?" I ask next, feeling wide-awake my-
self, and in a terribly talkative mood.
"Tired? No. Madgie, I am thinking how I shall
say to you what I have to say.'
""
"What is it, Humphrey ?"- turning to him in the
darkness with a quick little heart-beat at the gravity of
his voice.
184
MY MARRIAGE.
His hand gropes about till it reaches mine, and h
draws it into the shelter of a strong warm clasp.
"I am going to read my child-wife a lecture," he says
in a low voice. "You won't be vexed with me, dear?
for I am very much in earnest about this."
"But what have I done?" I say, laughing a little, my
hand stealing closer into his..
"Madgie," he begins in a low tone, and as if the words
hurt him, "have you ever thought how very beautiful
your face is, and that other men might think so as well
as myself the one sweet little innocent face that I
love so dearly?"
"Humphrey !"
Hush, dear! Let me speak. Did you wonder why
I danced with you to-night? It was done with a pur-
pose.
I wanted the world to see you and me dan-
cing together. Do you know what people have been
saying, dear? They say you have no love for your
husband!"
My hand gives a twitch in his, and his fingers close
over it more tightly.
"Wait, Madgie. My wife has been to blame, inno-
cently but unwisely. I do not say you mean any harm,
dear; but it would be as well to see a little less of Cap-
tain Delacourt. I was mad to-night to hear them dare
to talk about my wife!"
"Humphrey !"
I draw myself up, and feel my face grow crimson in
the darkness.
"Who talks of me? Who dares to couple my name
scandalously with Captain Delacourt's?" I ask my hus-
band.
"The world, child. Tell me, oh, my darling, that
there is no truth in the story! I would believe your
lips against the whole world."
"You believe the world's evidence already," I say bit
terly.
(6
Say it is not true," he persists, pressing my hand in
both of his, "I could bear you not to care for me, but
MY MARRIAGE.
185
I could not bear for any other man living to win your
heart."
At his words the whole tide and fulness of his mean-
ing rushes over me in a wave, and my words come in
choking gasps.
"Do you mean that I care for Captain Delacourt — I,
who am your wife? Humphrey, is that what you have
been thinking of me?" snatching away my hand and
bursting into a storm of weeping, bitterly humiliated,
hurt, stung beyond expression.
"My poor little Madgie," he cries, and holds me close
to him, "the world will never fail to attribute the worst
of motives. Nay, dear, it is not worth such bitter tears."
But the tears rain down my burning cheeks, because
this wicked, shameful thing has been said of me.
"I wish I had not spoken," says Humphrey. "My
child, this hurts me sorely."
I hide my wet face on his breast.
"Humphrey, did you believe it?" I say, feeling a
quiver run through him as he answers.
"I know he made love to my wife; and I also know
that she is an innocent child, and does not understand
how very little it takes to set the world talking. And
now, darling, my lecture is over. Give me your hand
again, and let there be― peace.'
“Peace, now and always," I whisper, and sigh deeply.
Peace, I say, and peace I desire between my husband
and myself, as long as we both live. If I could but
love him if I could but love this man whose arms
tremble even to hold me in their clasp !
"It has all gone wrong," I add presently, with child-
ish earnestness. "Humphrey, Humphrey, if you had
never seen my face!"
"It would have been happier for you perhaps, child,"
he replies; "but for me the happiness is in having you
for my own."
66
Humphrey," I say, "it is not our fault if we do not
agree; other people will not let us. You and I together
are quite happy sometimes, are we not?”
186
MY MARRIAGE.
"I am happy if you are content," he answers.
I tell him that I am content, that I want nothing, de
sire nothing now. Is he convinced? I know not.
The next day I come to him in the library and stand
behind his chair, my hand upon his shoulder a small
brown heedless hand, that rests on his broad shoulder
in perfect indifference. He is writing, but lays down
his pen as I come in, and raises his head to greet me
with a smile.
"Humphrey, what do you wish me to do about Cap-
tain Delacourt ? "
I have been planning the question all the way down-
stairs, and say it like a lesson now, with hot cheeks,
remembering the conversation that passed last night.
He draws me round till I face him, and his eyes scan
my features narrowly.
"Look at me, Madgie."
I lift my eyelashes and let my eyes look into his.
"What do you think you ought to do yourself?" he asks.
"I don't know; it is all the same to me," I answer,
and flinch a little from his gaze.
"It is all the same to you," he repeats wonderingly to
himself. "He is not a good companion for you, my
child; he will teach you to flirt and seek pleasure in the
society of men other than your husband; and you are
only a child, after all.”
66
'Humphrey, you make too much out of this," I say
pettishly: "Surely I can take care of myself? And, as
to men, I hated them when I was a girl at home-and
I have not had much cause to change my mind since"
-raising half-wrathful, half-saucy eyes to his.
"Ask
Bee, ask Lena, if I ever flirted. It seems hard my hus-
band should be the first to accuse me."
((
"I have not accused you." He is not angry; but
there is a little upright line between his eyebrows which
means something. But, Madgie, for a woman who does
not flirt, it seems strange that she should be forever in
the society of one man, riding with him, dancing with
him always with him. Facts speak for themselves."
*
MY MARRIAGE.
187
"I would just as soon have been with Georgie,” I an-
swer hotly. "Captain Delacourt always came.
It was
nothing to me whether he came or stayed. I did not
think people were taking the trouble to talk about
me, or that my husband would have been so ready to
believe them"-winding up a little wistfully, for I do
like to keep my hold on his good opinion.
The line is smoothing itself out of his forehead.
Suppose we say no more about it?" he says, draw-
ing me close to his side. "I don't like to see that ugly
frown on my wife's face."
"You were frowning, too," I retort, but let him draw
my face down and kiss me on the lips. “You won't
believe what people say?" I whisper. And he answers
gravely-
"I will believe nothing but what my wife chooses to
tell me herself."
"And I tell you," I say softly, "that your wife does
like you a little bit, in spite of everything-beard and
all."
There is a tap at the door, and I betake myself to the
window.
"Come in," says Humphrey; and Felicia appears at
the open doorway, a little flush on her pale cheeks.
"I hope I am not disturbing you?" she begins
timidly.
"Come in, Felicia," I say. "We are doing nothing-
only quarrelling and making it up again.”
She has a sheet of paper in her hand.
"Can I do anything for you?" says Humphrey kindly,
as she comes up to the table.
"I have been trying to draw up an advertisement.
Will this do?" says Felicia, laying the sheet of paper be-
fore him. "I do not know if I have said the right thing."
Humphrey looks at it, and then up at her, standing in
her black dress beside him.
"It won't do at all," he answers. "Are you tired of
us so soon, Felicia?'
"No-oh, no! But I must begin to look for a place
soon."
188
MY MARRIAGE.
Humphrey puts the written paper in a drawer.
"Leave this with me. You forget that I am your guar-
dian. Felicia, you must let me arrange this."
"And you will hear of something soon?" she says,
with tears in her brown eyes.
I hasten across the room.
66
Why are you in such a hurry, Felicia? Can you
not stay with us for a little time? I don't think you are
strong enough yet to think of being a governess. And
you know you must stay if Humphrey wishes it. He is
a terribly firm man. So now it is settled."
Felicia objects, but Humphrey has his way; and it is
settled that for the summer at least she is to live at Car-
stairs.
So Felicia goes back to her dreamy life, studying and
painting little ideal scenes. And Humphrey might be
an artist working for his daily bread, to see him at his
easel hour after hour.
Captain Delacourt has gone back to his regiment.
He came to say good-by one wet afternoon, and would
hardly say a word; but when he was going he looked
hard at me, held my hand in a long clasp, and gasped
out "Good-by" as if the word were choking him. I am
glad he is gone, for now I can go to Ripley without fear
of remark or comment.
IT
CHAPTER XXIII.
T is June, leafy June, and the world is sweet, fresh,
and fair, and the air breathes of roses and new-
mown hay.
To-day Bee and Lena are coming. On this happy
day I go about the garden singing out of sheer gladness
of heart and gathering great bunches of newly-opened
roses-crimson, blood-red, milk-white, golden-yellow,
pink, and blush, all the sweet beauties in the fragrant
rose-garden at Carstairs. I pile my basket with the
MY MARRIAGE.
189
scented clusters, and pick the sweetest half-open velvety
bud for Bee's room. Bee is like a red rose herself, so
sweet and lovable. Oh, to think that, when the sun
sets to-night she will be here, that I shall be listening to
her fresh sweet voice! It seems too good to be true,
and the long hot day will be slow in passing. I go back
to the house again, singing all the time. "Oh, 't is love,
't is love, 't is love that makes the world go round"
the dear love that belongs to the old home!
Humphrey laughs as I fill the drawing-room with
roses.
"Sweetest rose of all!" he says, raising my face and
smiling down at it fondly. "Madgie, if I could draw
faces, I would draw you now, with all these flowers in
your hands."
I am arrayed in white muslin and blue ribbons to-day,
the sort of dress that looks so simple and yet so charm-
ing-lace, muslin, and embroidery - what men call a
white frock. I delight in and wear such dresses all the
hot summer, with varieties of ribbons. I can afford to
put on a fresh one every morning if I like. When I was
at home, the very soap required to make the white frocks
presentable again was a consideration, so non-washing
dresses were desirable. Now I stand in all my bravery
of lace and sky-blue ribbons, and yet do not feel the
fresh innocent happiness that I remember when I donned
my starched muslins as Madgie Alison.
I give a few finishing touches to my flowers and hurry
off to Mrs. Steele, and, for the first time in my married
life, feel a keen genuine interest in the housekeeping.
"Please have something very nice at dinner to-night,
Mrs. Steele some most delicious pudding; and I have
told Jackson to send in plenty of strawberries."
"Would the young ladies like iced-pudding?" sug-
gests Mrs. Steele. And so iced-pudding is decided
upon, and plats and confections of all sorts.
The chief advantage of being married, I think, is to
have a nice house to ask one's sisters to on a visit.
What a new life it will be to Bee and Lena! And
190
MY MARRIAGE.
Humphrey says we are to have a ball and a grand gar-
den-party.
The gardens are in perfect order, and the tennis-lawn
is like a billiard-table. I seldom play tennis now; but
when Bee and Lena come, there are to be tennis-parties
and all manner of pleasing excitements.
The morning seems dreadfully, unaccountably long.
After luncheon Humphrey and Felicia go back to their
painting. Humphrey is engaged upon a great picture,
one of his favorite sea-pieces, with a rock and waves
and sea-gulls; and Felicia is painting a picture of a
child, a London street Arab, looking upon flowers for
the first time. The wondering awed expression on
the child's face is very good as the ragged little creature
stands on the green grass and sees primroses growing at
his feet.
I peep into the studio, and see the artists busy at
their work.
"If Georgie comes, Humphrey, say I am out in the
hay-field reading."
There she finds me an hour later, half asleep in a nest
of hay.
"Come to the sea-shore," she says.
midges here, and the sea is lovely to-day
"There are
come.
""
It is lovely by the sea, which shines before us and is
as calm as a mill-pond. And then Georgie remembers
that she promised to visit a protégée of hers in a cottage
a mile away.
"I will go with you," I say; and we walk slowly on
by the shore.
"His
"Clive is coming home," Georgie announces.
regiment is ordered abroad, and he is going to leave it;
so we shall have him at Ripley for the summer."
I toss a pebble into the shining golden sea, and when
the circles have spread and widened into an eternity of
space I turn to Georgie.
"Why is he leaving the
"I suppose he is tired
shrug of her shoulders.
Army?'
""
of it," Georgie says, with a
Clive never stayed very long
MY MARRIAGE,
191
at anything. Chris is the steady, plodding member of
the family. And then she changes the subject abrupt
ly, as Georgie always does. "How much longer is Miss
Grant to be at Carstairs?"
"I don't know-for the summer, I think; and then
she is going to be a governess, if Humphrey can hear of
a situation for her."
"She is too quiet," Georgie pronounces decidedly.
"I hate quiet people; there always seems to be some-
thing behind.. Does Mr. Carstairs like her?"
"Oh, yes, they are always together!"
"I think you have great confidence in your husband
to leave him all day in the society of a pretty girl like
Felicia Grant," Georgie says, laughing. "I know if I
was married I should be frightfully jealous!
""
“And I
"I am not in the least jealous," I reply.
am very glad that Humphrey has somebody to keep him
company when he is painting."
While Georgie pays her visit to the cottage I stay out-
side, knocking the sand about with my parasol and look-
ing at the long line of shining water. A little farther
away is the Abbey, Sir Jasper's home. The trees there
grow nearly down to the water's edge, and it is a pretty
place, I am told.
Georgie does not look in that direction, but gazes
straight out to sea when she comes out of the cottage.
Nearly a mile away, out in the blue waters, gleams a
wee island that is mirrored in the golden deep.
"That is Crab's Rock," Georgie says. "If we had a
boat, we might row out there. The view is lovely from
Crab's Rock."
We are too tired to start for our homeward walk at
once, and make our way back to the shore, where we
sit, with the waves murmuring at our feet. A boat
shoots round the point, the shining oars gleaming in
the sun.
"Chris!" cries Georgie, as the sunshine flashes on a
man's yellow hair. "And Sir Jasper! Come, Madgie!"
Nonsense, they have seen us, Your brother is
192
MY MARRIAGE.
looking round. We can't well run away. Perhaps they
will row us to Crab's Rock."
"We will ask them if you like," says Georgie, with
a flush on her cheeks which was not there two min-
"How ridiculously golden Chris's hair is!
Look how it shines in the sun.'
utes ago.
""
A long pull and a strong pull, and the boat grates on
the shore. Chris jumps out, and Sir Jasper follows
his example. Mutual hand-shaking ensues, and mutual
remarks follow on the warmth of the day.
"Awful!" says Chris, whose straw-hat is on the back
of his head, his comely face glowing from the heat of
the sun.
66
'Will you take us out to Crab's Rock?" I ask.
"Certainly," replies Sir Jasper. "Shove down the
boat, Chris.'
""
But Chris cannot go with us; he has a business-let-
ter to write, and it must be sent by the next post; so
he helps us into the boat, pushes it off, and makes his
way home across the fields.
There is a world of trouble in Georgie's eyes as she
darts a reproachful glance at me, and then leans over
the boat, letting the water sweep through her white
fingers.
•
"How nice it is on the water!" I remark, watching
Sir Jasper rowing with long even strokes, and remem-
bering the lessons in rowing Humphrey gave me once.
"Yes; it is cooler than on shore," he says. "I think
we shall have wind by-and-by; it looks like it."
"Do talk of something beside the weather!" puts in
Georgie, raising her head. "It has been the sole topic
since we met to-day."
"Start a subject, Miss Delacourt, and we shall be
happy to follow," Sir Jasper says, with lazy indifference.
Georgie laughs a little, and answers
"I don't want to talk; it is too hot to think of any-
thing to say.'
"Then please allow Mrs. Carstairs and me to discuss
the weather if it amuses us."
MY MARRIAGE.
193
I think he takes a pleasure in bringing the scarlet
to her cheek. But only the swelling sea knows what
the expression on her face is for the next five minutes;
and then she looks up again, and with careless mock-
ing lips hums the "Sweetheart's" waltz.
"I hate that piece," she says presently. "Alas for
the love that loves alway.' As if there were any such
thing!"
"No woman's love could last the 'alway' you mean,"
Sir Jasper answers, looking straight into her eyes.
"Neither man's nor woman's," laughs Georgie; and
he says no more.
The boat glides through the heaving golden sea, and
the tiny ripples whirl past and seem to say, " Bee is com-
ing Bee is coming ;" and it is the refrain of my own
heart. I am happy to-day.
There is not much to be seen at Crab's Rock — a tiny
line of golden sand shelving into the deep clear water, a
flat yellow rock; that is all. But the view is lovely
the rocky shore, the strip of yellow beach, the mountains
in the distance; and a multitude of great green trees
that belong to the Abbey show dimly in the far hazy
distance.
"Oh, I wish I had my sketch-book!" Georgie says.
"How pretty it all is!"
"Mine is in the boat," Sir Jasper remarks quietly.
"I took to sketching when I was abroad, and fortu-
nately I brought it out to-day."
With a strange smile Georgie takes the proffered book.
"Let it be peace for one day," he says in a low voice;
and she gives a sudden brief look straight up into his
face, and then sits down, the sketch-book on her lap.
It is full of drawings.
May we look at them?" she asks.
Certainly; but they are only scrawls," he replies.
Only scrawls! I see Georgie's lip quiver as she bends
over the scraps of drawings. There are sketches of bits
of scenery, views of places he saw in his travels after he
quarrelled with his love and went away to cure the pain
13
194
MY MARRIAGE.
J.
at
his heart by flying from place to place trying to for-
get.
Georgie looks long and lingeringly at every scrap his
hand has traced, and Sir Jasper and I talk of many
things.
"What is your study?" he asks, and lays his hand on
the book in my lap. "The Lady of La Garraye. I have
never read it," he says. Mrs. Carstairs, to make our
enjoyment perfect this hot afternoon, you ought to read
aloud to us."
"I will if you like," I say, smiling.
And so we settle ourselves in luxurious comfort on
our tiny island, Georgie busy with her pencil, Sir Jasper
stretched lazily at full length, smoking, and I reading
out the love-idyl of Claude and Gertrude. There is not
a sound near but the wash of the water lapping on the
yellow sand at our feet. An hour more perhaps passes
away, and we have not finished the story of the stricken
Lady of La Garraye. A little wind has risen and flut-
ters the pages of the book in my hand.
The boat is behind us, where the sand is smoothest,
and where there are no rocks to impede landing. Before
us lies the blue water, and the sunlit shore is beyond;
and we never notice that the tide is creeping up inch by
inch, every tiny wave a little nearer than the last - that
slowly the fringe of sand is covered, and the washing
waves have softly and silently lifted the light boat and
drawn it back into the deep water.
A sudden puff of wind comes sighing over the sea.
Sir Jasper sits up.
"I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Mrs. Car-
stairs; but here comes the wind, and perhaps we ought
to be moving."
"Oh, don't go just yet!" Georgie says. "I must fin-
ish my sketch."
"Very well; we can stay a little longer," he assents.
Then he looks round and starts to his feet with a sud-
den exclamation. Half a dozen yards away our boat is
rocking up and down.
MY MARRIAGE.
195
"Can't we get back?" I say; and Georgie and I
laugh quite cheerfully at our adventure.
Sir Jasper makes one or two ineffectual attempts to
hook the boat back with his stick.
"Give me your parasol, Mrs. Carstairs," he says
quickly; and, tying it to his stick, he tries again to reach
the boat. But in vain; the current is carrying it past
the island; and we all look blankly into each other's
faces.
"What a fool I was not to remark that the tide was
coming in!" Sir Jasper says, looking angry and grave.
"Miss Delacourt, you will have plenty of time to finish
your sketch."
Georgie suddenly turns white to the lips.
"Crab's Rock is covered at high water!" she says,
almost in a whisper."
{
We look at each other in silence.
their own meaning only too plainly.
first.
? (
Her words carry
Sir Jasper speaks
"I cannot swim a stroke, or I could get the boat back
easily enough. Come don't get down-hearted; the
tide won't be high for two good hours'yet,' and'a boat is
sure to pass before that."
"Boats never pass here," Georgie says gravely.
J
We look round far out to sea, but there is only the
streak of blue on the horizon, and not'a sail in sight.
"Somebody may see us from the shore," I suggest,
with my heart thumping as I see the water creeping up.
"Very few people pass this way," Georgie says, shak-
ing her head. See how far away the boat is now
and the tide is rising very fast."
An idea rushes into my mind.
Mr Delacourt knows where we are.
for us.''
Georgie turns a little paler.
He will come
Chris is dining out to-night at a place ten miles off.
He will have started by this time.'
Sir Jasper says not a word, but stands with com-
pressed lips, looking at the little boat so far away now
on the shining waves.
{{ t
196
MY MARRIAGE.
"We must do something!" Georgie exclaims, a quiver
of anxiety in her voice.
"What can we do?" Sir Jasper says desperately
"Our only chance is a boat coming this way. Mrs.
Carstairs, are you going to faint?"
66
No," I answer, struggling with the horrid sick feeling
of fear, and, with a terrible fascination, watching the
water creeping up. "Sir Jasper, couldn't we call out?
Somebody might hear us."
He puts his hands together and shouts through them,
loud and long, a cry that might awaken the dead; but
the sound dies away over the shining waves; and
again and again he repeats it, without a sound or sign
coming in return to show that he had been heard.
"It is of no use. Perhaps a boat will come," Georgie
says, but her voice is dreadfully hopeless.
"We must be saved," I say, looking at my compan-
ions. "It can't be that we are to be drowned. Hum-
phrey will come some one must see us."
My hopeful words are spoken with a terrible sinking
at the heart; and then an awful silence falls upon us.
The sea and sky has changed suddenly, clouds blot out
the sun, and the waves are foam-tipped now, and far
away our little boat tosses up and down. Slowly
the tide is rising. Only two hours more, and then
*
*
*
*
An hour has passed away — sixty long minutes — and
Crab's Rock is very small now. Not a sail is in sight.
We watch the rocky points running out into the sea,
round which a boat might come; but there is not even
one to be seen.
I sit with my face in my hands, in an awful speechless
terror, thinking of death; and it cannot be very long
now before the waves will wash me off into the deep cold
water. Will Humphrey be sorry, I wonder? Will he
grieve long and sorely for the wife who was learning to
love him? Will he think of her always as sweet and
lovely, the girl he loved so dearly? Poor Humphrey !
Will he see me, I wonder, washed in dead at his feet in
´MY MARRIAGE.
197
the white muslin and the blue ribbons that decked me
so fairly this morning?
Ah me, there will be an awful moment when I strug-
gle for my warm young life, and sob out a dying cry
before I go down, down into the depths and stillness
below!
And Bee- I shiver all over as I think of her coming
only to find I am dead. It will be full tide when Bee
and Lena reach Carstairs, and I shall be no more then
on the face of the earth, no more able to speak or think
or move, never again able to tread the fair green earth.
Ah, Heaven, and I am not fit to die!
I raise my woe-begone face and look at the other
two, to see how they bear this death, this living death,
that is stealing up inch by inch. They are standing side
by side; her head is on his shoulder. Great sobs are
shaking her from head to foot.
I bow my head again and moan. They are friends at
last. With death so near, how small all else appears !
"I loved you always," I hear her say through her
tears; and he answers sadly
"We can die together, my love; and it won't be very
long now."
A long murmuring explanation follows, and the arms
that lay once around his neck are around it again,
the warm young arms that will be cold and lifeless
soon.
I have no part and lot in this.
I must die alone.
They are together;
The waves are roaring round. One larger than the
rest rushes up to my feet; and unconsciously I draw up
my dress to keep it dry, and then burst out crying. I
shall be wet all over soon enough wet with the great
hungry waves.
"I am afraid it is nearly all up with us," Sir Jasper
says in a low hoarse voice.
I stagger to my feet and strain my eyes to take a long
look around; but there is not a soul to help or save.
"Heaven help us!" I murmur.
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MY MARRIAGE?“
Sir Jasper's face is as white as that of the poor trem…)-
bling girl leaning against his breast.:
"This is hard," he says brokenly. "Would to Heaven
it was over one way or other !"
"Jasper, Jasper," wails Georgie, "will it be a hard ·
death? Will it be long?"
He bends his face over hers, and makes no answer.
There is only a couple of yards of dry rock now; and
every wave washes up a little nearer, a little closer.
Georgie turns round a face that is white and distorted
with anguish and terror.
1
1
"Save me, Jasper!" she gasps, trembling and shiver-
"Dear love, it is so hard to die! Oh, Jasper,
ing
Jasper!"
"I have never cared so much to live," he says sadly,
gathering her to him tightly. And then he turns to me,
as I stand gazing with wide horror-filled eyes at the
rising tide. "Have you too given up hope! Poor
child, you are young to die!"
>
>
So we stand and the waves come rushing up and
washing over our feet. I shake all over as the first great
wave breaks round me, and my white dress lies limp and
sodden at my feet.
"Humphrey, Humphrey !"I cry. His name comes
involuntarily to my lips.
Oh how he will grieve to think how I died-his wife,
his little Madgie, madcap Madgie! Scalding tears pour-
down like rain. Not a mile away the shore stretches,
with the great white waves tumbling in. It seems. ages
and ages since we stood there. Then I was contented
and 'happy, thinking of Bee and Lena coming; now I
stand, a gasping stricken thing; waiting for the end.
MY MARRIAGE.
199
t
N°
CHAPTER XXIV.
moan, no cry, and it is nearly over, the water
washing about our feet. We two poor terrified
women are quiet enough now, praying Heaven to have
pity and let us die soon. Sir Jasper holds his poor 'love
tightly, and I cling to his other arm. Great sops break
from him, wrung from him because of his sheer inability
to help or save.
Only a few more minutes to live; and we cling to life,
and gaze with hungry longing eyes at the land we shall
never see again. Georgie is half unconscious; her eyes
are closed, and the only sign of life is a long shiver now
and then.
+
"Heaven end it soon!" moans Sir Jasper, as a great
wave makes us stagger.and.sway before we recover our
footing again.
Blind and sick with terror, I seem to see nothing -
hear only the surging sobbing waves that rise nearly to
our knees.
"Seven o'clock !" says Sir Jasper, taking out his
watch. "It is very nearly high water.'
1
A great wave washes suddenly up to our waists, and
a long wild cry breaks from me,; for, oh, it is hard to die
this slow awful death! Sir Jasper and I look into each
(other's faces.
1
"Shall we end it at once," he gasps hoarsely, “and
let Heaven have mercy on our souls.? Death itself can-
not be much worse than what we are enduring now."
"No, no!" I cry, in wild awful,horror, shrinking from
the rising water with a terror that seems to congeal my
blood.
Humphrey, poor Humphrey! I seem to see him
bowed and smitten, and Bee with pallid cheeks, and
myself lying somewhere cold and drowned, my life
choked out of me by the rising waves.
It is coming at last, the beginning of the end. I see
200
MY MARRIAGE.
a wall of water; I hear a man's hoarse cry of anguish,
and then a louder cry
“A sail, a sail!”
The great wave washes back again. Blind and wet, I
cling to Sir Jasper, and hear him shout aloud, the de-
spairing cry of a strong man facing death's agony. And
then another wave washes over my shoulders, and I
shriek as the blinding shower dashes back again; and I
oh, Heaven, it has come too late!—a boat plung-
ing over the waves, and a voice cries out-
see
"Courage! We are saved!"
*
Saved! Lying at the bottom of the fishing-boat, my
head on a rough coat, I come slowly back to life. We
are flying before the wind, the big brown sail heeling
over to the water's edge and the white waves seething
and curling past. I see the rough kindly faces of the
fishermen, and Sir Jasper, with Georgie leaning against
him, her white face upturned.
Is she dead? I suppose my eyes ask the unspoken
question, for Sir Jasper answers-
"It can't be it is impossible; her head was never
under water once!"
He is rubbing her hands in his, and I struggle to my
knees to help him. My teeth are chattering; I feel sick,
dizzy, and cold; and my thin dress clings wet and limp
around me.
"How did they save us?" I say, trembling with cold
and excitement.
66
They heard me shout," he replies; "and one noble
fellow leaped in and held you up till the boat was got
about. A minute later, and it would have been all over.
Where are we going?" I ask, in blank bewilder-
ment.
""
“To Sea Crags,” Sir Jasper answers. "They can't
land on these rocks, Mrs. Carstairs. What can we do
to bring her round?" Turning his piteous face to the
sailors, he asks, "My men, have you not a drop of
spirits on board?"
MY MARRIAGE.
201
After searching, one man produces a small black
bottle containing whiskey. Sir Jasper forces a little
between Georgie's closed lips, and makes me swallow
some too. I feel better after it; and Georgie opens her
eyes wonderingly.
The sailors are very kind, and do their best to make
us comfortable; and at last we see the twinkling lights
of Sea Crags, a tiny fishing-hamlet to which I once
drove with Humphrey. Sir Jasper is whispering to
Georgie, and she has spoken once or twice in a very
tremulous voice.
Then the brown sail is hauled down, and kind' rough
arms lift us out, and we stand once more on the earth
again, and see a crowd gathering, and hear eager offers
of help. Willing hands lift Georgie and carry her off,
surrounded by eager sympathizing fisher-folk. They are
very anxious to carry me too, but I rebel, and, gathering
up my wet skirts, stagger weakly by Sir Jasper's side.
A forlorn, miserable trio we are, though full of thankful-
ness for the lives that have been given back to us.
Sir Jasper is dreadfully anxious about Georgie; but
by-and-by, when we are warm, and Georgie and I are
clad in the Sunday garments of the fisherman's daugh-
ters, the color creeps back to her face, and she can laugh
at our queer appearance. I smile a little too, as I sit
on a low stool by the fire, and shake out my long brown
locks to dry; but I am trembling still, and death seems
hardly to have left our presence yet.
Sir Jasper comes in, attired strangely in queer uncouth
garments; and the warm blood rushes to Georgie's face
as he bends over her, whispering and holding her hand
in his.
"When can we get home?" I ask, feeling anxious to
relieve the fright and anxiety there must be at home.
We must have been missed by this time; and no doubt
search is being made.
"I have managed to get a horse," says Sir Jasper,
"and I will ride as fast as I can to Carstairs and let
your husband know that you are safe. Then we can
202
MY MARRIAGE.
bring back the carriage for you. That is the best plan,
I think."
"And mamma," Georgie puts in
know, won't you?”
"Of course.
(6
"you will let her
And now I will be off. You feel all
right now, Georgie?" Sir Jasper says, bending over her
again, for she is all his own now,
Then he goes out into the quiet twilight, and a few
minutes after we hear the sound of a horse's hoofs gal-
loping past. Georgie sits and smiles into the fire, mus-
ing over pleasant thoughts.
I have not congratulated you," I say. "Oh, Georgie,
I am so glad!" And she looks up with tears in her
eyes.
re
"I was happier to-day, even so near death, than I
have been for a long, long time. Madgie, he cared for
me all the time, and it did not seem so hard to die when
I knew that.”
We drink tea in the cottage, out of great heavy cups,
and feel the warm blood coursing through our veins
again; and we try not to think of those last few awful
moments when death was so very near.
Darkness has spread over the sky, and the waves are
creeping back again; but I heed not the wash and mur-
mur now. Georgie is half asleep in a large straw arm-
chair, a red shawl around her, and all her dark hair
streaming over her shoulders. I look at, her face, and
it seems to me that her new happiness has blotted out
the hard, defiant expression that has rested there for´so
long; the firm sweet mouth is half smiling even in her
sleep, and on her smooth fair brow rests no shadow or
trouble
all is perfect peace at last. Death was a
friend when he made those two one, after all the weary
time of sadness and separation.
M
"Through the still night-air comes the rush and rumble
of wheels. A carriage is being driven furiously through
the little street. It pulls up suddenly.
"Madgie, Madgie!" cries a dear, well-known voice
that has the echo of old times in its tones, and Bes
MY-MARRIAGE.
203
ג
•
>
4
comes hurrying through the low. doorway, and we cling
-closely to each other.
1
•
"Bee," I gasp "Bee, darling!" And I burst into
a passionate fit of weeping, my arms arbund her neck.
"Oh, don't! Hush, Madgie, you must not cry!" she
whispers in a tearful voice. Dear, we have all been
frightened; but it is over now.”
I raise my face and see hers
-
(6
་
the sweet dear.,face I
thought I should never see again. And then, my eyes
stray to another figure my husband,...with longing
eyes looking into mine. For one moment I have for-
gotten him; then I creep. into the shelter of his arms
and lean my face upon his breast. I feel him shiver all"
over as he gathers me tightly to him; and I know,he
cannot speak because his heart is too full.
"My wife!" is all he whispers, in a tremulous, voice.
Happiness is a wonderful cure for all ills. Five min-
utes later we are looking at each other. with, no tears-
only smiles; and Sir Jasper and Georgie look perfectly
radiant. Humphrey has packed the carriage with shawls
and rugs, and brought soup and wine and every imagin-
able thing. Surely no shipwrecked mariners were ever
made such a fuss about!
J
We drive home very silently in the darkness. Bee sits
opposite to me with Sir Jasper, and her presence fills me
with a great peace and happiness. Georgie leans, back
in the corner, like myself, weary in body and mind.
Humphrey is outside on the box; and, when we reach
home, he comes round and lifts me out, and carries -me
bodily up the steps and into the hall; for I am weak, and
shaky yet. Lena, Felicia Grant, and Mrs. Delacourt
stand waiting with pale anxious faces; and we are kissed
and cried over again. Lena hangs over me, with her
pretty childish face bearing the trace of tears; and Mrs.
Delacourt looks as if the last few hours of anxiety have
aged her ten years.
Mamma, we are all safe; so you need not be
frightened now,” Georgie says cheerfully.
Sir Jasper stands beside her, looking quite happy and
204
MY MARRIAGE.
quite unconscious of the absurd figure he makes in the
loose-hanging garments of the fisherman. Mrs. Dela-
court, looking from one to the other, divines that what
was all wrong has become all right again, and she kisses
Georgie suddenly; and then, after a little more talk,
they drive away home; and with Bee and Lena, one at
each side, I go slowly up-stairs to get into my own
clothes again.
"Humphrey was nearly out of his mind," says Lena.
"Oh, Madgie, when he met us at the station his face
was as white as a sheet! He told us you were lost,
and Miss Delacourt; and it seemed so strange and
"6
""
Ah, don't speak of it now!" I say, still seeming to
feel the rush of the blinding waves. "Tell me about
home and mother and everybody."
And it is of the dear old home that we are speak-
ing when Humphrey comes in; and I am lying on the
sofa in my room, clad in a white cashmere dressing-
gown with pink ribbons, Bee and Lena sitting close be-
side me. They have got over their fright now, poor
girls! Lena is raving about Carstairs; the old house
has taken her fancy, and to morrow and all the morrows
to come speak of perfect happiness for her.
"My child, you look very tired," Humphrey says. "I
don't like to see such pale cheeks." ·
He says little of what he has endured himself; but
by-and-by he holds my hands in his, and, in a low awe-
stricken voice, I tell him how the mishap occurred, and
speak of the fear and terror with lips that quiver at the
recollection.
66
'My child!" he says.
here while you
""
“And to think of my sitting
His voice breaks; a tear
not mine — falls upon my
face; and I know a little of what he went through when
the life he loved was in danger the young heedless life
that is so dear to him.
I think we get to know each other better in the long
talk that follows; and our hearts have crept a little
nearer when, with a long kiss, I whisper his name with
MY MARR
205
MARRIAGE.
a love and tenderness that have come newly to my lips.
Out of death the dawn of a new love is springing; and
it is with a sense of great rest and contentment that I
feel my
hand in his. Can it be that I am getting to
care for my husband at last ?
ST
CHAPTER XXV.
a
IX long hot days go by, and our adventure on Crab's
Rock has become a thing of the past. People can
talk of something else now, and we are no longer objects
of curiosity. The surging of the rising waves has ceased
to echo and re-echo through my brain. I can sleep now
without awaking almost every minute from dreams in
which the whole awful scene reappears with vivid reality.
Humphrey is at last assured that no ill effects are going
to follow from the cold and wetting; and Bee, Lena, and
I are as happy as the days are long.
From early morning to dewy eve we three are insepar-
able. Felicia spends the long hot days studying as if
she were preparing for a competitive examination; and
no persuasion can induce her to join us in walks or
drives. I think she feels her brother's loss too keenly
yet to care to go out into the world again - the world
that is careless and gay; so the long days pass like a
golden dream, and I am as light-hearted as the madcap
Madgie of long ago.
Humphrey," I say to my husband one day, slipping
my hand into his of my own accord, I am glad I mar-
ried you; and I think
and I think - yes, I know I am quite happy
now.
""
Quite happy?" he repeats, a fond smile in his eyes.
"Heaven keep you happy always, dear!"
"May we have a picnic to-morrow," I say, looking
206
MY MARRIAGE.
¿
up into his face
ourselves and the
“just a small picnic to the Glen
Delacourts ?"
"Settle anything you like, child," he answers; and
then, more gravely, "I like to see you bright and happy,
dear. There was a time when I thought my wife would
dever take an interest in anything again."
Ah, full well I remember the time when I was freshly
wakened to the knowledge that while I had cut myself
driit from the old life I had no interest in the new!
The remembrance of it shadows me now for a second,
and then I laugh gleefully.
"That was when I thought you were too tall, and had
an objection to your beard."
"and
"And had too much money," he says, smiling
when a certain little lady hurt me every hour of the day
by refusing to spend it."
"
"I don't trouble you much that way now, Humphrey,'
I answer. I am sure you have found out that keeping
a wife is a very expensive amusement."
(6
Very, especially when she grows prettier every day"
catching my hands and looking down into my face.
"Little sweetheart, did ever man worship such blue eyes
"as thine?
""
}
"Nonsense!' I cry, laughing and letting my eyelids
fall over smiling eyes. "We are old married people,
Humphrey, and ought not to talk nonsense."
"I like to see you blush," he persists, "and to make
the dimples come, Madgie. Tell me, do you like your
husband better now than on the day you were married?
"9
"A thousand times better," I answer, with a gay little
smile and a fleeting look into the passionate gray eyes.
"For I did not like you at all then, and I do now - a
little."
But the qualified admission pleases him; and I begin
to think that a husband is not such a bad thing after all.
I suppose I have become used to him at last.
I
"C
Georgie is going to be married in a month," I say
next; and I am very glad. She is so happy now; and
I am sure Sir jasper is a different being."
MY MARRIAGE.
207
Then I catch a quizzical gleam in Humphrey's eyes,
and I know he is laughing at me, because I have changed
another of my opinions.
"It is new to hear you say you are glad at a wedding,'
he says mirthfully. "I shall expect you to announce
your partiality for beards next."
Never!" I cry, and dart away between the standard-
roses to Bee, who comes smiling down the gravel path
her bright face looking sweet and winsome in the sun-
shine, a red rose in her hair and another at her throat.
Bee always looks picturesque and gipsy-like, while
Lena would sacrifice everything to be fashionably dressed
and have an appearance of chic.
My love is like a red, red rose."
sings Bee in her low rich voice. "Oh, Madgie, what a
glorious day this is!"
Yes; and we are going to have a picnic to-morrow.
Come and plan it, Bee."
Lena comes hastening over the closely-clipped lawn.
Madgie," she cries, "the Delacourts are here!'
(6
So we all go together into the long cool drawing-room,
where Georgie and Chris stand talking to Felicia, who,
for a wonder, has left her work to-day.
Georgie is dressed in soft creamy muslin, with lace at
the throat and wrists. Sir Jasper's love is a true woman
after all; with the reconciliation all the fastness has
disappeared, and even in dress his wishes are her law
now. The old reckless Georgie Delacourt, who cared
for no one's opinion, is very womanly now, with only
one desire, to look fair in her lover's eyes. It is a new
idea to me, who have never dressed to please any one in
my life but myself; but I like Georgie the better for it,
and it is only right that she should please Sir Jasper in
all things now. On her finger flashes an engagement-
ring. I catch her often looking at it with shy pleasure,
and I know that to her Crab's Rock has proved a very
blessed spot indeed.
Georgie enters cheerfully into the plan for the picnic,
and Chris assents with lazy good-humor. I see him
208
MY MARRIAGE.
smiling at Bee's radiant delight and her fresh naive way
of expressing it. They stand in the deep window side
by side, a slanting sunbeam catches the blood-red rose
at Bee's white throat, and tenderly touches the sweet
arch face and glorious eyes. Chris is talking to Bee as
he has been seldom seen to talk to any lady; but then
she is such a child that he could not be shy with her.
As they stand together, and I see his shapely golden
head bending to answer the laughter in her eyes, a
thought flies into my mind, and I wish that Chris Dela-
court would get to care for Bee, and she for him.
"Clive is coming home to-night," says Georgie.
"He will be in time for the picnic. But I think we
ought to ask a few more people, Madgie. We have not
enough gentlemen."
And by the time it is all planned the picnic has
swelled very considerably. To this Chris objects.
"I say, what is the use of asking a lot of people?" he
says. "We should find it ever so much pleasanter by
ourselves. Georgie, don't drag those Blakes in."
Georgie laughs.
"Chris is terribly afraid of the Blakes. I am sure he
will marry one of them some day out of sheer fright!"
Chris blushes furiously.
"I hate that sort of chaff," he says, with more temper
than I have seen easy-going Chris show during all the
time I have known him.
So the Blakes are struck off the list, and Chris is
appeased. He and Georgie take their departure, and I
go to apprise Mrs. Steele of the picnic that is to be on
the morrow. Lena comes with me, and afterwards says
gravely-
"Madgie, sometimes I can hardly believe it is really
you."
"How so, Lena?"
<<
Why, when I think of you at home, with perhaps
only one good dress, and trying to do the housekeeping
on nearly nothing at all, and then to see you now coolly
giving orders to your housekeeper and having every
MY MARRIAGE.
209
thing heart can desire; I wonder you can keep your
senses."
I laugh a little at her earnestness.
"One gets accustomed to anything, Lena; it does not
take a lifetime to get used to being rich.
""
"I wish I had the chance of trying," Lena rejoins.
"When I marry, it will be for money. There is nothing
like it after all."
I turn away with a quiver of pain, and see my hus-
band in the doorway. He has heard Lena's thoughtless
words, and I know, from the look on his face, that he
has drawn his own conclusions from and put his own
interpretation on her heedless speech. He knows full
well why I married him, and the little liking I have
shown lately cannot quite obliterate the pain.
!
Humphrey retires without a word, and an hour later I
slip away to find him, with grave face and compressed
lips, working at his picture; but Felicia Grant is busy
at her easel too, and so I make a few careless observa-
tions that mean nothing at all, and go away down-stairs
again, a little disappointed, a little unhappy.
A few words have opened the old wound again
between husband and wife, and the opportunity for
explaining them has passed away.
*
*
*
The dew on the grass has dried; the sun stands
bright and glorious in the deep blue sky, and shines on
the shimmering, sparkling sea, which gleams and dances
in the brightness of a summer day.
Bee and Lena are in an ecstasy of delight; it is new
life to them, poor girls, and they enjoy every moment of
it. The hampers, packed with good things innumerable,
are in the hall; the carriages are coming up to the
door. The party is to start from Carstairs, and the car-
riage from Ripley is even now driving up the avenue. I
am going to ride; and the Ranger is at the door, his
satiny coat shining in the sun.
"Take care of yourself, Madgie," Humphrey says.
“I wish you were going to drive with me, dear.”
14
210.
MY MARRIAGE.
"You can take care of Felicia," I answer, with a mis-
chievous little laugh.
Felicia has been persuaded to join our party, and she
stands in her black dress, looking grave and quiet, as if
she had no part in the gay scene around. Sir Jasper is
in the carriage with Mrs. Delacourt and Georgie; and
they have brought a friend of Sir Jasper's with them,
a young Cavalry officer, who is staying at the Abbey.
Chris is mounted on the gray horse Captain Delacourt
used to ride; so I shall have a companion, and think it
will be far pleasanter to ride across country to the Glen
by a short cut over the common than to follow in the
wake of the carriage in the dust. Bee, in a white dress
and navy-blue ribbons, stands smiling, and Lena, look-
ing fair and dainty as a wild rose, flits about every-
where; and then I see Sir Jasper introducing her to
the Cavalry officer, and my pretty sister flushes and
brightens. Chris ought to be happy, for the picnic is
confined to ourselves after all, and Sir Jasper's friend is
the only stranger present.
"Clive is coming in the dog-cart," Georgie says; and
a minute later he drives down the avenue, tosses the
reins to the groom, and comes springing up the steps.
"You do not intend to ride, Mrs. Carstairs?" he
asks, in a tone of deep disappointment, as we shake
hands.
"Yes, your brother and I are going to take a short
cut to the Glen.".
"Mrs. Carstairs, it is very unfair of you; I had hoped
to have the pleasure of driving you in the trap'
with a vexed look in his dark eyes.
"I will depute you to take care of my sister in-
stead," I say, with a smile. "Bee, this is Captain Dela-
court."
I leave them together. He runs down the steps
again a minute afterwards and puts me on my horse.
"You have spoilt my day," he says, frowning, giving
me the bridle and whip.
"How complimentary to Bee I answer, laughing ;
MY MARRIAGE.
211
}
>
and then Humphrey comes up, salutes Captain Dela-
court with a coldness that I think is almost rude, and
then busies himself in settling my habit.
"Be careful, my child," he says,' for the 'Ranger is
fidgeting, and fretting, impatient to be off.
Chris Delacourt brings up his horse.
"Shall we start, Mrs. Carstairs? Your horse does not
seem in a good humor this morning.'
""
"Take care of her, Delacourt," Humphrey says;
I smile down into his anxious' upturned face.
Then we ride away down the avenue, leaving the rest
of the party packing themselves into the carriages. Bee
and Captain Delacourt drive past us in the dog-cart, and
I suppose the others range themselves in what order
they please.
1
There is a breeze from the sea on the common, and a
good canter on the short close grass tones down the
Ranger to his work. Chris is very pleasant, confiding,
and talkative to-day. I begin to like him much better
than Clive. He is such a frank 'simple-hearted gentle-
man, good and true, as the straightforward glance from
his dark blue eyes testifies, and no one could imagine
anything mean or underhand in connection with Chris
Delacourt. Oh, I wish he would fall in love with Bee!
Perhaps he will get to care for her who knows?
Long after, in the days that are to come, I shall remem-
ber my wish, and awake to a blinding pain at the result
of the fulfilment thereof.
We are at the Glen full twenty minutes before the
carriages arrive, and choose a place for the luncheon
close to the stream. It is a very pretty glen, and the
sunlight flickers through the green leaves' and lies in
shimmering patches on the grass.
The first vehicle to come down the steep lane where
the tangled dog-roses nearly meet and trail their long
branches against the blue sky, is the dog-cart, driven at
a break-neck pace.
At what a rate Clive has come!" exclaims Chris.
"Look at the horse! what a state he is in!"
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MY MARRIAGE.
Captain Delacourt lifts Bee down, and together they
come through the shifting shadows to meet us.
"How cool it is here!" says Bee. "Madgie, we left
the others far behind."
(
Captain Delacourt throws himself upon the grass.
"A great difference this from the blinding dusty
roads," he remarks, with a sulky look on his handsome
face, placing his arms under his head and looking up at
the checkered lights in the branches above. "Picnics
are vexation of spirit," he says next; one always gets
with the wrong person.'
66
Perhaps my silence conveys a rebuke, for he goes on
"Your sister is charming; but then she is a stranger,
and we had to make conversation."
I look over at Bee and Chris standing by the clear
cool stream. They evidently find no difficulty in "mak-
ing conversation." Bee bends over the water, and,
kneeling down, dips her hand into the still stream,
and, holding it up, the drops fall back again, flashing,
glittering, and opal-like in the sunlight. Chris looks on.
I hear my sister's clear merry laugh, and then they
wander away between the stems of the trees.
I see
Bee's lithe figure disappear with that other taller, broader
one at her side, clad in gray; and then I look down at
Captain Delacourt again.
"So you have left the Army," I remark, by way of
saying something.
"Yes," he answers shortly. "I did not fancy the
West Indies. But I am half sorry now that I left the
service."
He looks cross and discontented enough, like a man
dissatisfied with his life.
"Here they come," he says.
Yes, here they come; and the carriages stop, and the
company alight, and come in twos and threes through
the light and shadow, into the cool green, out of the
glaring sunshine outside. Lena is with the Cavalryman,
and, to judge from his appearance, he is well-looking ana
agreeable enough to make a summer day spent in his
MY MARRIAGE.
213
society pass fairly well. Lena looks radiant, and he
appears well content. Then come Mrs. Delacourt,
Georgie, and Sir Jasper, all together-Sir Jasper laden
with shawls, and giving his arm to his future mother-in-
law-and, lastly, Humphrey and Felicia, Humphrey
looking towards me, where I sit on a fallen tree, with
Captain Delacourt at my feet.
66
Quite safe, you see," I say, looking up as Humphrey
comes near.
"I wish I thought you were quite safe," he answers,
in a low voice, as Captain Delacourt rises to his feet
and moves away.
"Don't be cross," I rejoin, and go away too to help
with the luncheon.
Bee and Lena, aided by Chris and the Cavalryman,
are putting the wine-bottles upright by the margin of
the stream; Sir Jasper is deep in the mysteries of
champagne-cup; and a little apart by himself sits Cap-
tain Delacourt, intent on slicing a cucumber.
All tender their valuable assistance in setting out the
repast; and, wonderful to relate, no mistakes are made
such as are common at picnics. No one uses custard
for salad-dressing, or puts salt on their strawberries.
Absolutely nothing has been forgotten, and everything
goes on too well, Bee says, laughing.
Bee is sitting between Chris and Captain Delacourt ;
and the brothers seem to be vying with each other in
attention and agreeableness. Clive seems to find the
making of conversation an easy task now, and Bee holds
her own gayly between them both, with a smiling care-
less grace that is winning in the extreme. Humphrey
waits upon Mrs. Delacourt and me. He is silent to-day,
in one of his grave preoccupied moods. But I make
up for his silence by a cheerful gayety that is not assumed.
For are not Bee and Lena happy?
Luncheon is over, and each one follows his or her
pleasure. Sir Jasper takes possession of Georgie, and
somebody suggests a visit to the waterfall. All assent
joyfully, except Mrs. Delacourt.
{214
MY MARRIAGE.
&
"I am too tired to walk so far," she says. "Iwill
stay here.'
And I will stay with you," I' say. "Please do-not
say a word. 'I' would rather." And I sit down beside
'her on the mossy ground.
[
Y
Captain Delacourt looks back.
"Are you not coming, Mrs. Carstairs ? ”
No, I am tired; and it is too warm tỏ walk.”
He hesitates a moment, and then slowly follows the
others.
Humphrey and Felicia, armed with "sketch-books,
approach next.
"We are going to sketch the waterfall. "Will you
come, Madgie?" Humphrey says a little wistfully.´´"It
*`is' not very far. Come!”
"I am going to keep Mrs. Delacourt company," I
'answer. "And I would far rather rest than toil all the
way to the waterfall.”
"Do go, dear. Your husband wishes it," urges Mrs.
- 'Delacourt; but I shake my head and laugh.
Humphrey never wants me when he is sketching,"
I interrupt; "the drawing is apt to go wrong."
A
"Comé then, Felicia," says Humphrey ; and they go
- away together.
"Mr. Carstairs is very quiet to-day. Is he not well ? ”
'remarks Mrs. Delacourt; and I answer, hastily
f
1
"He has not complained of anything. I think he is
quite well. He is always father quiet; I do all the
talking."
Then I turn the conversation into a safer channel, and
start Georgie's wedding as a good topic. So for the
next half hour we discuss the trousseau, the wedding
dress, the breakfast-everything, and the long happy
life that is to follow at the Abbey.
"Who is this?" I say.
A gray figure comes quickly between the trees, and
Captain Delacourt joins us.
"I left them all enjoying the waterfall," he says:
"and now I am going to rest and enjoy myself."
MY MARRIAGE.
215
“Lazy boy!” cries his mother, with a smile that fades
away suddenly.
I see her eyes sadden as they rest on her handsome
son lying at her feet, and I fancy Clive gives his mother
many a heart-ache.
May I smoke?” he asks.
midges."
"It will keep away the
The cigar puts him in good humor with himself and
everybody else.
They are all coming back to Carstairs to dinner; and
after that I meditate a dance, and suggest it to Cap-
tain Delacourt.
"You must not give your husband every waltz,” he
remonstrates, in his soft low voice, which has a lazy
caressing tone in it.
*
*
*
*
*
The picnic is over. We are all mustering to start for
home again, in the same order that we have come, I
suppose; but suddenly I see Chris climbing into the
dog-cart beside Bee, and Captain Delacourt comes over
to where I am standing talking to Georgie.
"Chris was so anxious to have the pleasure of driving
your sister home that we have exchanged places," he
says. “I hope you do not object to my escort, Mrs.
Carstairs?"
Humphrey comes up then.
"Going to ride home, Madgie? Had you not better
go in the carriage, and send the horse back?"
"Why, Humphrey, when I would rather ride?”
I thought you looked tired," he replies. He swings
me up on the Ranger, and then catches sight of Chris
in the dog-cart. "I thought he rode over, Madgie?"
"Yes; but he is going to drive back," I answer.
Captain Delacourt intends to ride."
Is it only the red light of the sun that casts that dusky
glow on my husband's face? But it is not the sun that
sends a brief passionate gleam into his eyes before
he turns away without a word. And with a little pain
at my heart I watch him settling Felicia in the car
216
MY MARRIAGE.
iage, with not another look or word for me his
wife.
-I look up and see Captain Delacourt likewise watch-
ing Humphrey. Our eyes meet, and he laughs.
"It is proverbial that guardians fall in love with their
wards-it is part of their guardianship, I think," he
says.
66
Captain Delacourt, that sort of talk is neither amus-
ing nor instructive," I answer, with an attempt at play-
fulness which I feel sure deceives neither him nor
myself; and into my mind a thought flies - a thought
that is the beginning of the end—and I wish that
Felicia Grant had never come to Carstairs.
But I laugh and talk gayly during the ride home along
the quiet roads. The sun has not dipped very far in
the west yet, and the world is full of light. Ah me,
what fools men and women are to care so much about
feelings, and make their hearts ache because of a cold
look, a silence that is more painful than words! There
is nothing but misunderstandings, and there is no peace
or happiness at all.
Humphrey does not say one word to me when I
return. I can see that he is vexed; he is punctiliously
attentive. But in the evening, when chairs and tables
are put out of the way, he never asks me to dance, but
goes off and sits by Mrs. Delacourt.
Outwardly cheerful, inwardly very cross, very miser-
able, I station myself at the piano and play waltzes,
galops, anything but refuse steadily to dance. Chris
asks me, Captain Delacourt entreats, but I say I am
tired; and Bee, Lena, and Georgie gyrate with untiring
energy down the length of the long room. Captain
Delacourt dances once with Lena, and half a dozen
times with Bee. Chris is quite put in the shade to-
night.
It is over at last; they are all gone. Captain Heath-
cote, Lena's Cavalryman, declares with a good deal of
"haw-hawing" that he has spent a charming day, the
speech rendered impressive by a look towards Lena's
MY MARRIAGE.
217
childish face; and I, the hostess, stand smiling, but feel
ready to cry, for neither word nor smile has Humphrey
given me to-night.
Bee and Lena spend half an hour discussing the de-
lights of the day, but it ends in a feeling of disappoint-
ment, for Bee evidently prefers Captain Delacourt to
honest simple-hearted Chris, and my scheme has gone
wrong. From the bottom of my heart I wish that Clive
Delacourt had not come back to Ripley.
BE
CHAPTER XXVI.
EE and Lena have been with us for a month four
weeks of gayety; for the neighborhood seems to
have suddenly awakened, and all vie with each other in
adding to the whirl of summer dissipation. We have
been to lawn-tennis parties, garden fêtes, picnics -
everything that can be desired and the weather has
favored every gathering.
Georgie is to be married next week. Wedding-pres-
ents are pouring in, and Ripley is full of guests. Sir
Jasper has filled the Abbey with painters and upholster-
ers to renovate the old house for the reception of its
mistress.
To-day we are quiet; there is no excitement in imme-
diate prospect, and Bee has taken a writing fit. I find
her scribbling hard in her own room, writing a story that
is to make her famous so she says with a smile, while
her pen is flying over the paper.
"I am going to send it to a magazine, Madgie. I
tried once before; and, after waiting two months and
watching every post till I was sick with waitir g, there
came a letter saying that my poor story was returned
with thanks."
"What did you do, Bee?"
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MY MARRIAGE.
*
"I cried for an hour, and then I burnt it in the
kitchen fire. Poor thing, I had got so fond of it,
Madgie !"
Bee laughs as she tells the story now, but I know it
was very stern reality at the time; and I can fancy her
'shedding bitter tears over her disappointment, and with
'somewhat of an heroic impulse consigning the child of
her imagination to the flames.
"And you are going to try it again?" I say, taking up
some of the closely written pages and looking over them,
to find in the hero of the tale an exalted description of
Clive Delacourt, unlike him, but still with enough re-
semblance to leave no doubt as to the original. "Docs
it end badly, Bee?"
She rests her chin on her hand, and looks out of the
window towards the gray rippling sea.
"Yes, it ends badly," she says; "but I am in a diffr
culty. Madgie, it is so dreadfully hard to think of
anything original; and I want to kill the hero in some
'out-of-the-way manner.
""
"Have him eaten by cannibals," I suggest, laughing.
No; but really, Madgie, I don't know what to do
with him. I can't have him killed in the Ashantee War,
for every one knows who was really engaged in that,
and I won't have him lost in the City of Boston, for I am
sure, if all the imaginary people in books ever sailed in
her, it is no wonder she went to the bottom; and it is too
ridiculous."
I laugh at her description, given with perfect gravity,
and try to help her with suggestions of various queer
and unaccountable deaths; but my ideas are all too
wildly improbable, and I leave Bee at last with the mo-
mentous question unsolved.
**
*
*
**
*
Yes, with a pain that I never thought I could feel, I
slowly and unwillingly come to the conclusion that Hum-
phrey has ceased to care for me. It is not a pleasant
thing to say of one's husband; but I know and I feel
that it is true, that the great passionate love has died
MY MARRIAGE.
219
out, and a cool indifference taken its place. He has
grown weary of waiting for the love that I half promised
would come after long years, and now-it is almost
laughable I begin to like him, and he ceases to care
for me. A pitiful comedy this is, none the less bitter
that for very pride I'must hide it from the world, even
from Bee, and, lastly, my husband must never know.
What a fool I am to cry such bitter tears about it!
And then comes the question, Why does he not love me
now, as he did even in the days when I hurt and wounded
him by my cruel thoughtlessness? My face is as fair as
it was when he wooed wilful madcap Madgie long ago.
}
I look into the glass and see the fair fresh beauty he
loved so madly onçe the same blue eyes, the same
charm of face that took his fancy once. Has he, tired
of me? He is kind and polite, but never do I hear the
old loving words. It is hard—it is bitter; and all the
blinding tears cannot wash away the pain.
66
Humphrey," I say once, trying to speak naturally,
but bringing out the words in a harsh whisper, "have I
done anything to vex you
?
22
He gives a long look down into my eyes, but his face
never softens.
Why do you ask?" he says at last coldly, as if he
was speaking to a stranger and not his own wife; and I
steady myself with an effort.
'You have changed lately, Humphrey. You know
you have,"
I do not look at him as I speak; but when I hear his
voice I know what his face is like.
"How. changed? Is there anything you wish for,
Madgie, anything I can do?"
"Nothing," I answer, hurt, cut to the heart, as I never
thought to be by word of his.
Oh, what a pity that Spartan boy ever existed, to be a
model for us ever since a model whose example shows,
us, how to hide the pain and let it eat our hearts away
before we make a sign! I suppose that Spartan boy
had to give in at last, and I suppose that sooner or later
(
220
MY MARRIAGE.
we Spartans of later days, who hug our pain and smile
over the torture, will have to give in; but in the mean-
time it is pleasant to hold out as long as possible.
I go away from Humphrey with a light step and a
face that makes no sign, although I feel an intense
longing to burst out crying and humble myself in the
dust at his feet, if only he would care for me again.
“Guardians always fall in love with their wards.")
have not forgotten that remark. I have tried to forget
it; but it comes back to my memory again and again
and stays there persistently. Do they always? I wonder
Why are wards attractive to guardians? Is Felicia-
Here I stop, and drive away the thought, drowning it in
a fierce game of lawn-tennis with Bee.
of lawn-tennis with Bee. But, when the
game is over, the thought is there still.
*
*
Scene A dinner-party at the Grantleys', distant
neighbors of ours who give two or three stupid dinners
in the year and consider they have done their duty to
the world and themselves.
Sir Joshua Grantley is an oddity—a perfect oddity -
and his wife is a portly placid matron. Looking at her
calm tranquil features, I wonder if she has ever known
a moment's care or a second's uneasiness. She sits at
the end of her table, with a ceaseless smile which comes
to her lips at the commencement of the evening and
stays there all night. Does she sleep with that smile
on her face? I wonder. Her daughter, on the contrary,
looks as if she had borne since her infancy the cares of
the whole world on her shoulders, so livid is her face, so
sour her expression.
Sir Joshua takes me in to dinner. One peculiarity of
his is that neither rank nor precedence takes the lead,
but the lady who has the greatest claims to beauty takes
the place of honor at his right hand. To-night he is
graciously pleased to select me as the favored individual.
I am told afterwards that another lady said Sir Joshua
has very bad taste, that he fixes on most extraordinary
people as good-looking.
MY MARRIAGE.
221
I wish he had not chosen me this evening; it is weari
ness and vexation to listen and respond to his chirpy
remarks, and I find myself counting the number of times
he adjusts his eyeglass and lets it fall again. The same
process goes on again and again. He opens his pale
little eyes very wide, and, with a fearful contortion of
his puckered old features, grasps the glass firmly by
some effort of will and muscle, takes a glance at me,
opens his mouth to speak, and away flies the eyeglass,
and the whole thing is begun over again.
Opposite to me sits Bee, with Captain Delacourt. She
looks radiant, and he is bending his dark head, and talk-
ing away in that low voice of his, and looking every now
and then into her face. Once or twice I catch a look
from his dark eyes directed across the table at me; but
I have avoided him of late, and even Humphrey cannot
say I have left his warning unheeded. At the end of
the table I can see my husband's face, and note how
grave he looks. He seems nearly as moody and dissat-
isfied as Chris, who has been told off to wait upon Miss
Grantley, and does not appear to find the post a delight-
ful one.
"She won't talk," he confides to me afterwards;
"and when she does it is to rail against her fellow-
creatures."
+
A few minutes later I see his tall graceful figure
steering towards Bee, and a look of satisfaction comes
over his face as they get together at last. Bee is in
pure white, her own choice a dead-white dress, with
her favorite crimson roses in her hair and at her throat.
She stands talking to Chris, her tall figure drawn up,
her head thrown back a little, and her arms lightly
folded. Bee, the hoyden, is growing into a very lovely
woman.
; i
Captain Delacourt appears suddenly beside me.
"What is the matter? You are not yourself to-night,"
he says, "and Carstairs seems out of sorts too.”
A short laugh falls from my lips.
"You are very observant. What do you mean by my
being no: myseli ?”
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MY MARRIAGE.
"You appear preoccupied, bored. All the time, at
dinner I was watching you, and you never smiled,
naturally once,"
}
say,
"Sir Joshua is not a very amusing companion," I
and see Humphrey, at the other end of the room, look,
ing at me.
"Miss Grant is not here to-night."
In spite of myself a hot flush rises to my face at Cap
tain Delacourt's words,
1
"Don't talk that lady is going to sing," I say, and
avert my head till the blood flows back again.
鲞
​1
I look steadily at the girl who is going to sing. She
stands looking over, her music, a tall girl arrayed in
white, with pink sashes tied, round her at regular inter-
vals; she looks like pink-and-white sugar-stick, and
evidently finds much, difficulty in movement. The song
begins.; her sister, like more pink-and-white sugar-stick,
plays the accompaniment, and she breaks into song,
beseeching us in ear piercing accents to let her “dream
again." She finishes with a shriek and a wail. Then
the pink and white sashes retire after murmured thanks
from some and "Thank you so much" from Lady
Grantley.
After some persuasion, a young man with a fat boyish
face consents to sing, and informs us in touching tones
that "old love is waking-shall it wake in vain?"
"Upon my word," whispers Captain Delacourt, audi-
bly,
"this is too much! That girl with the pink reefing.
arrangement besought us on no account to wake her,
and here this fellow announces he is 'waking up.'
I cannot help smiling at his comical distress.
The last "Shall it. wake in vain?" dies away, The
fat-faced young man retires precipitately, apparently on
the verge of apoplexy, and I see Lady Grantley steering.
in my direction.
66
She is going to ask me to sing. Oh, dear, what shall
I do?"
"Don't sing about waking or sleeping, or-"Cap
tain. Delacourt pauses.
7
MY MARRIAGE.
223
Lady Grantley halts before me, the fixed smile deep-
ening. I cannot refuse she will take ho refusal.
"But, Lady Grantley, I have brought no music."
"Amongst Clara's music surely we shall find some-
thing that you sing," she urges sweetly; and I give in
with a good grace.
The search amongst Miss Grantley's music results in
the discovery of "Auld Robin Gray."
"I sing this," I say hesitatingly, remembering what
Humphrey once said about this very song."
"Oh, please, yes! It is a special favorite of mine.
Now, Mrs. Carstairs, I will have no other song.»
So I sing the sweetest, saddest story of human love
'that ever was written; and when it is over I go and sit
with my husband, and say in a low voice
"Lady Grantley asked for that song, Humphrey."
He looks down at me gloomily.
"I know very well why you sang it. Do not look
distressed, Madgie. A fact is not more painful put to
music than made known to one in any other way.
I say no more, for I hear Bee's rich voice beginning
"Mary Hamilton."
There is a hush in the room as the sweet sad notes rise
and fall; the song carries me back to the old days.
"Too late for the balm when the heart is broke,
Mary Hamilton."
It is not only the song that makes my eyes wet.
**
*
*
*
Sunday evening, and a great stillness over land and
sea. We have been twice to church in the glaring
scorching sunshine. The great red sun seems as if he
will never go to bed to-night. But at last the golden
glory fades away, and twilight spreads a dim shadowy
covering over the hot weary world.
All the windows are wide open to let in the cool air.
At the farther end of the room Lena and Felicia Grant
are holding a whispered conversation. Bee is at the
piano, singing hymns. I sit at the open window, un-
224
MY MARRIAGE.
happy enough, for all my goodly position in life,
watching a tall figure pacing up and down, backwards
and forwards, with bent head.
Humphrey has been walking to and fro for the last
quarter of an hour, and I have been watching him; but
never once has he turned his head towards the spot
where I sit in my white dress in the gloom. He starts
when I suddenly appear at his side, and slip my hand
within his arm.
"Do you wart me, Madgie?" he asks quietly.
At one time how his face would have lighted up to see
me come and join him of my own accord!
"I-I thought you might have wanted me, Hum-
phrey," I say, in a low pitiful voice; "but, if you like, I
will go away.
"If I like!" he echoes, in a low whisper. "Stay, my
child! We do not see much of each other now, do we?'
He is speaking almost in his old tone again, and I
answer accordingly.
you
"We have been so gay, you see. And, Humphrey,
know you
would not come to any of the parties."
"Did you wish me to come?
wish me to come?" he asks. And I laugh.
My wishing would not have done much good. You
know you stayed to keep Felicia Grant company."
"
"Yes, poor Felicia! I pity her very much, Madgie."
And pity is akin to No, I will not say it. But his
words hurt me, and I withdraw my hand from his arm,
under pretext of gathering up my dress. The dew lies
thick on the leaves and grass, and it is slowly and surely
soaking through my thin skirts.
"You will catch cold," Humphrey says. "There is
a heavy dew falling."
"I don't care," I answer wilfully.
Wait, and I will get a shawl," he says, going off, and
returning in a few moments with a white fancy wrap
which he lays carefully round my shoulders. "Is not
that better-darling?
darling?" There is a pause before the
last loving word; but he has said it; and my hand is
laid upon his arm again, and his hand closes over it
MY MARRIAGE.
225
with a quick pressure.
"And, if I don't go to parties,"
he says, continuing the conversation, "my wife does not
often come to me now when I am painting."
"You don't want me. You have Felicia," I say, in a
hard unloving voice.
"True. But Felicia is not you," he answers a re
mark that might mean anything or nothing.
And I am not Felicia," I retort, my cheeks burning
Humphrey laughs.
"What do you mean, Madgie? You are not in a good
humor to-night."
He is beginning to find out my faults; and my vrce
shakes a little as I go on speaking very fast.
"Humphrey, Mrs. Delacourt told me yesterday that
a friend of hers wants a governess, and and pe haps
Felicia would like to go. Will you speak to her about
it?"
No, I will not!" comes straight and quickly om my
husband's lips. "I am Felicia's guardian; and I think
I have the best right to choose the situation she shall
take."
"
"She
Perhaps you would wish her to stay with us alto-
gether," I remark, in a tone of bitter sarcasm.
would then be saved the trouble of keeping up this farce
of studying and painting."
Humphrey comes to a dead stop.
66
Madgie, what do you mean by all this? Do you dis-
like Felicia?'
66
Oh, dear, no! I am tired of her. That is all."
"I hoped that you would have got to like her," he
says, speaking slowly, "and that she would have stayed
with us till she got a home of her own."
(4
"A very pleasant arrangement!" I retort, with rising
wrath. Pray have you any more surprises of this sort
in store for me?"
(6
Stop!" says Humphrey sternly. "You must not
speak to me like that, Madgie. You have made me
ashamed of my wife to-night.'
"}
In the dim twilight we face each other. I look up at
15
226
MY MARRIAGE.
him with an angry light in my eyes, and my heart seems
ful to bursting; and then I turn away.
Are you going to speak of this to Felicia?" asks
Humphrey quickly.
"No. From this day forth I will leave her to her
guardian," is my answer, spoken with a bitterness that
in all my life I have never felt before.
66
'Madgie, Madgie!"
and the two arms hold me
tightly. "Was it my wife that spoke then? My child,
are you going to leave me like this?"
""
"Yes," I say desperately. "I thought, Humphrey,
we might have been happy once; but now it is impossi-
ble. Don't let us try any more breaking into a
short hysterical laugh; "and, above all things, do not let
Felicia think that we have been quarrelling on her
account."
His arms suddenly loose their hold, and I speed away
in the twilight, to cry my heart out where no human
eye can see me, to weep till my head throbs and my
eyes ache; then with slow steps I creep back to the
house and to my own room. I send Hester away, and
lie down with hidden face on the sofa.
By-and-by a step comes softly to the door, and Hum-
phrey enters. I hear him busy among the bottles on the
toilet-table, and I feel a handkerchief wet with eau de
Cologne laid on my hot forehead.
"I saw you come in," he says at last; "and I said
you had a head-ache, and would rather the girls did not
come up. Was that right?
""
"Yes" - very faintly, the tears flowing afresh, and
ending in a long sobbing sigh.
Oh to hear him say, "I love you, Madgie!" And I
earn and hunger for the words that do not come.
The moonlight is flooding the room. I can see the
outline of his grave rugged face and broad forehead.
He is silent. I can hear him sigh now and then, a
weary heavy sigh, and somehow I only remember now
that he used to love me once; and I move one hot hand
towards his, and feel it gathered into his broad palm.
MY MARRIAGE.
227
"Kiss me, Humphrey," I say.
In all my married life I have never asked for word or
caress, and the tremulous words are only half breathed
now. Without a word he presses his lips to my flushed
tear-stained cheek. There is no explanation, none given
or asked for ; but peace is made — for a time.
made—for
IT
CHAPTER XXVII.
TT is Georgie Delacourt's wedding-day. It reminds me
of my own, as I see her in white satin and orange
blossoms, coming with bent head up the isle, leaning
on Chris's arm Chris, with his head held very high,
1
and with a look of great importance.
Sir Jasper, with the Cavalryman doing duty as “best
man," stands waiting, looking all that a happy bride-
groom ought to look; and I see his eyes smile as
Georgie comes in with a lengthy train of bridesmaids.
The church is crowded. Numbers have come to see
and to criticise; but the bride and bridegroom go through
the ordeal with becoming fortitude.
"I wonder if Georgie has put in your reservation in
her marriage-vows?" Humphrey whispers, as we go
out of church.
My thoughts fly back to a day long ago, and I seem
to hear myself telling my husband that I vowed, if it
were possible, I would love, honor, and obey him. I
do not need the reservation now; but I do not say so to
him I only give him a quick upward look, with eyes
that have tears somewhat near to them.
Presently, arrayed in our wedding finery, we are driv-
ing to Ripley, and the wedding-breakfast quickly follows.
It is such a different breakfast from what I had at my
marriage; speeches are made, some long-winded and
tedious, others ludicrously short.
228
MY MARRIAGE.
"I hate weddings," whispers Captain Delacourt, who
sits beside me. On his old plea of hating strangers,
he neglects the fair bridesmaid at his other side; and Í
I
can see her vexed look as she sits in her pink-and-white
finery. "It is the last I shall go to," proceeds her
recreant knight, handing the poor girl mustard instead
of sugar; and then, seeing his mistake, he apologizes.
"The last till your own, perhaps," I say, looking across
the table to beloved Lena's Cavalryman, who is in close
attendance on my sister; he ought to be with the first
bridesmaid, but duty has evidently succumbed to pleas
ure, and Lena looks charming to-day.
Captain Delacourt is speaking again in a low tone.
My wedding! Do you think that will ever take
place?"
66
"I don't know anything about it," I answer, a little
surprised. "I dare say it will some day"-speaking
carelessly.
"Mrs. Carstairs, you know you do not think that,"
he says in a low voice, and then suddenly changes the
subject as the blood rushes to my face for perhaps he
fancies that I expect him to marry Bee. “That is a
charming dress you are wearing to-day," he remarks.
"It is a relief to see a variety after the raspberry-and-
cream affairs that the bridesmaids are arrayed in."
I am dressed in pale blue and white, and am vain
enough to think that my attire suits me; but I do not
want Captain Delacourt to say so, for I hate com-
pliments. It is only very plain women who can care to
be told of good looks and to receive compliments every
moment.
Georgie looks lovely," I say, looking at her sitting
with downcast smiling face by her husband's side.
"She looks well enough," he assents, with the meagre
praise that brothers consider sufficient to accord to their
sisters.
The breakfast is over, and Georgie has gone up-stairs
to change her dress, Mrs. Delacourt, pale and tearful,
accompanying her. I find myself listening to the rather
MY MARRIAGE.
229
tiresome conversation of a fat, prosy old lady, who is
loud in praise of Georgie, and speaks of Lady Vane
every moment.
"
My dear, such a handsome couple, and so fond of
each other! They will be happy, you will see; they are
starting in the right way, loving each other. I am sure
you agree with me, Mrs. Carstairs, that no marriage can
be happy without love.”
"Love may come after," I say, feeling her words strike
home.
"It may; but the chances are that it will not. No,
my dear, without true affection there can be no real
happiness."
She is a very sentimental old person apparently. But
that she has such a very innocent placid countenance,
I might fancy she was speaking at me; and I find myself
coloring unpleasantly. It is a relief when Georgie
comes down in her travelling-dress and "Good-bys"
are said. The bride is very pale; but there are no
tears in her bright eyes.
Good-by, Madgie," she says; and the warm blood
rushes to her face as I kiss her, and respond smilingly-
"Good-by, Lady Vane."
There are kisses and embraces, and then Georgie
goes away with her husband; and the carriage rolls off
under the usual shower of rice and slippers.
Will her marriage turn out better than mine? I won
der. I stand at the window, looking at the sunshine
outside. If happy is the bride that the sun shines on,
Georgie ought to be happy indeed, for never once has
the blazing sun ceased to shine to-day. Chris Delacourt
breaks in upon my meditations.
"How are we to amuse all these people till the danc-
ing begins? Suggest something, Mrs. Carstairs."
Let them amuse themselves,” I say. And he fol-
lows my advice.
*
"A little, very much, passionately, not at all—a lit-
tle, very much, passionately" Lena's voice murmurs
230
MY MARRIAGE.
"
the words softly; the petals of the marguerites lie upon
the grass and on her dress. Passionately!" she cries
at last triumphantly. "And it was the same three
times running. I knew it would be!"
"Who is it, Lena?" I say, looking at her as she sits
beside me on the cliff-top, with a fringe of golden corn
and scarlet blazing poppies for a background.
She laughs, and blushes a little.
"My own true love, of course." And then more white
petals come fluttering to the grass, and Lena's voice
goes on "This year, next year, three years, never.”
"I will try my fortune too," says Bee, shutting up her
book, and murmuring the mystic words.
I find myself likewise pulling a marguerite to pieces,
and saying over and over in my own mind
"A little, very much, passionately, not at all.'
But I toss away the daisies; for they say he loves me
not at all.
$
Lena is finding out every imaginable particular about
her future husband, and the result seems to give her
immense satisfaction.
"I am to be married next year, Madgie. He is tall,
good-looking, and he loves me passionately."
"Has he a profession?" Bee asks, laughing.
Lena consults the marguerite again.
"Army, Navy, barrister-"
"Curate," suggests Bee.
"Curate, indeed! As if I would marry a clergyman!
Now, Bee, I have got out of count, and must begin all
over again."
We hear voices; and presently Chris and Captain
Delacourt appear on the cliff-path.
"We are trying our fortunes," explains Lena.
"I will try mine too," says Captain Delacourt, diving
in amongst the poppies, and snatching at marguerites.
"I don't believe in them a bit," remarks matter-of-
fact Chris; "and I think it a very silly sort of idea."
Bee's great dark eyes look up gravely into his face.
"Do you believe," he asks, "that the mere fact of
MY MARRIAGE.
231
there being many or few of these petals on a daisy could
influence your life?"
66
But, I say, Chris, don't you see that it is the fact of
there being many or few petals that makes it strange?”
calls out Captain Delacourt. "What do you think, Mrs.
Carstairs?"
"I have no desire to believe in the marguerites, for
they never tell me what I wish," I reply, idly scattering
the petals, and saying to myself, "He loves me not at
all, not at all."
In spite of his theories, Chris, with a grave face, tries
his fate.
""
"She loves me, she loves me not! Loves me not,
And though it is only pastime for a summer day, his blue
eyes cloud as the fates are unkind to him.
"
(6
Try again, Chris," says Captain Delacourt, laughing.
'Now I will consult the oracle," he adds, and pres-
ently I see his dark eyes looking up straight into my face.
"She loves me. I shall believe in marguerites if they
tell me pleasant truths like that."
I look away from him and see Bee's face rivalling the
poppies that tinge the corn. Poor Chris is working
gloomily at another daisy, with the same result.
"She loves me not. I won't try any more," he breaks
off, and tosses away the flowers.
Once more I reach back amongst the poppies, pluck
a tall nodding marguerite, and slowly pull off the petals,
saying in my own heart the words
"He loves her - he loves her not."
What a child I am to care what the silly flower says!
I don't care, I say; but I do. The color comes to my
face and my hands shake, as there are are only two or
three of the tiny white leaves left.
"Mrs. Carstairs, you are looking desperately anx-
lous!" Captain Delacourt's voice whispers. "Is fortune
going hard with you?"
Hard indeed, with a hardness that cuts sharp and
deep. There are only three left.
"He loves her he loves her not; he loves her."
232
MY MARRIAGE.
I bite my lip and look out upon the sea; for I know
that the marguerite has spoken the truth. Faintly I
hear the gay voices of the others—hear without under-
standing and sit gazing out at the wide sea, watching
the streak of smoke from a distant steamer lying almost
level with the horizon, and wishing that I was going
away too
far, far away to a new world, if it might be
a world of forgetfulness.
"You are terribly grave this afternoon," says Captain
Delacourt, breaking in upon my thoughts; and, lest he
or any of them may guess what is in my mind and read
what troubles me so sorely, I pull myself together; and
when, twenty minutes afterwards, Humphrey comes
striding by, crushing the poppies beneath his feet, grav-
ity is far from me; and madcap Madgie was never half
so great a madcap as this new Madgie, whose mirth is
born of bitterness, and whose laughter hides only tears.
IT
CHAPTER XXVIII.
T is time to dress for dinner; but we are lingering
in the garden still, Lena and Felicia together-
for these two seem to be friends—and Bee and I side
by side, as we used to be in the old days.
"Madgie," she says, "what a good fellow Humphrey
is ! I think he worships you more than ever."
(C
Yes," I return faintly, bending my head a little.
"What are you going to wear to-night, Bee?"
"My blue-and-white muslin. Oh, Madgie, what shall
we do at home again after Carstairs?”
"You won't go home for a long time yet, Bee; and
who knows but you may never go back at all?”
laughing as I speak a the blushes that surge over Bee's
face.
1
MY MARRIAGE.
233
"Madgie," she says at last, "may I ask you a ques-
tion?"
"Of course.
What is it?"
Bee raises her long-lashed eyes to mine.
"Madgie — you won't be angry?—I often think you
don't look happy."
There is a rush of tears to my eyes, and, without
thought, the truth comes to my lips.
'I have never been happy, Bee, since I left home."
"Oh, Madgie!"
Then I turn and look straight into her great wonder-
ing eyes.
(6
as I
I ought not to have said that, Bee. I never meant
to let any one dream that I was not as happy as
appeared to be; and I want you to try to forget what
I have said."
Bee shakes her head.
"}
"I could not forget it, Madgie; but you know that I
shall never say anything about it to any one else — and
that will be just the same as if you had never told me.'
She takes my hand in hers the left hand, with the
gold band gleaming on it and this action alone shows
how widely different our relations are now one to the
other. In the old days Bee and I never held each
other's hands, or attempted caresses of any kind; now
she strokes my fingers softly, looking the while piteously
into my face.
"And we all envied you so much, Madgie!" And
then, lowering her voice, she asks, "Don't you care for
him ?"
Bee, you could not understand. I do care for my
husband more than he can ever know; and there is
really nothing. But you remember I never wanted to
be married; I was so happy at home with you all.”
It is a very lame explanation, but she seeks no fur-
ther enlightenment. I am afraid the trouble is on my
face and in my eyes when Humphrey comes through the
garden to where we sit.
"Not gone to dress yet, Madgie? I have been at
234
MY MAKRIAGE.
– a
Ripley, and Chris has a friend staying with him
Mr. Carrington; so I told Chris that you would he
very glad to see his friend to-night, and he is to bring
him.
Lena and Felicia come sauntering up arm in arm.
"We are to have a stranger at dinner to-night," I say ;
so put on your prettiest dresses. Mr. Carrington may
be a prince in disguise."
1
"Mr. Carrington!"
Why does Felicia gasp out the name and turn white?
"Felicia!" I exclaim; and we gaze at her in aston-
ishment, as she stands with a strange look on her face
and her brown eyes wild with some sudden emotion.
"Are you ill, Felicia?" asks Humphrey, stepping for-
ward.
His voice is kind; there is friendly anxiety - nothing
more; even I can detect nothing else. In a dazed star-
tled way Felicia puts her hand up to her head.
"(
Yes, I have a headache. It is the heat.
will go and lie down."
I think I
She looks ill, and trembles visibly; and I cannot help
thinking that Mr. Carrington has something to do with
the sudden illness.
Half an hour later I come slowly down the stairs,
dressed for dinner in a long white soft dress that makes
no sound, no rustle. I stand in the hall for a moment,
watching the evening sun gleaming through the stained
glass window, and the sunlight lying in patches on the
floor, purple, crimson, blood-red, and golden, flickering
and changing.
The library door opens suddenly, an I see Felicia
blinded with weeping, and Humphrey with a grave
troubled face looking at her.
'You will keep our secret?" Felicia says, sobbing.
"Promise me, Mr. Carstairs?"
You may trust me, my child," Humphrey's strong
deep voice answers gently.
Then Felicia's black dress sweeps across the hall.
She does not see me, and I go straight to the library.
MY MARRIAGE.
235
"Humphrey, what does Felicia mean? Why is she
crying?
Humphrey pushes his fingers through his hair-an
action with him that usually betokens some perturbation
of mind.
"She does not wish to meet this Mr. Carrington,” he
says at last; and I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
"Not wish to meet Mr. Carrington! Why? Did she
know him before?"
There is a pause; Humphrey is evidently choosing
his words.
"Yes; and Felicia would rather Mr. Carrington, did
not know she was here.'
"She has confided in her guardian, I suppose?"
"Yes," he answers, the color rising to his forehead.
He vouchsafe's only the one short word, and my wrath
is roused.
""
Perhaps, while Mr. Carrington is in the neighbor-
hood, Miss Grant would wish to assume, a fictitious
name?" — toying with the flowers in my dress as I
speak, and stealing a glance at him to see how he takes
my words.
"I beg you will respect her wishes in this," he says
stiffly. "I would tell you the whole story if it were in
my power; but Felicia does not wish it."
"And of course her wishes are to be considered before
mine!" I retort, flushed and angry. "But I do not
care to hear any of the secrets of Miss Grant's past life;
they could not possibly interest me. Bee might care
about them; they would furnish her with a plot for her.
next novel."
My bitter scornful words are spoken with a mocking
smile. Humphrey hears me out with a look of sorrow.
"What has come to you?" he says gravely. “I did
not think my little Madgie could say such things." He
lays his hands upon my shoulders. "You don't look
happy, child. Nay, you must not cry; if we are not all
right at home always, I do not wish the world to see
tears in my wife's eyes."
1
236
MY MARRIAGE.
The tears are forced back, and I raise my head and
look up at him steadily.
"Do you care only for what the world thinks,
Humphrey?"
Does he see the yearning in my uplifted eyes? I know
not; but the grave tender look that I scorned once
creeps into his eyes, and his head bends till his lips rest
on my forehead.
"I care only for one thing, Madgie," he whispers
quickly and passionately. "I want only my wife's love."
"Humphrey - "
The words that would have come from my quivering
lips are not spoken. There is a grinding of wheels
outside.
"The Delacourts! And I am not dressed!”
It is the step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
Humphrey hurries away to dress, laughing, and I go to
the drawing-room to receive my guests, feeling a good
deal of curiosity respecting Mr. Carrington.
There is nothing very mysterious about him, after
all. He is a gentlemanly-looking young man of about
four-and-twenty, with light-brown curly hair and blue
eyes. He has plenty to say for himself, and is on the
whole very pleasant and agreeable; but Chris confides
to me that his friend. Mark Carrington is very much.
changed, and that his good spirits are only assumed.
"Mark used to be such a bright fellow; now I can
hardly get a word out of him. And it is odd too; for
he has been left a fortune by the death of an uncle
of his, and it does not seem to make him a bit happier.
He spends his days in travelling from place to place.
Fancy in the last three months he has been twice
to America. Look at him now when no one is talking
to him."
I look, and see Mr. Carrington, with all the pleas-
antness gone out of his face, sitting by himself, look-
ing out of the window
66
Poor old Mark!" Chris is saying. "I wonder what
is up with him.”
MY MARRIAGE.
237
I likewise see Humphrey watching him furtively, and
trying to drag him into conversation. But Mr. Carring-
ton does not interest me much. Something Mrs. Dela-
court says gives me a far more important subject for
thought.
Bee and Captain Delacourt are sitting together, and I
see Bee's bright face filled with interest as she listens to
him. Bee is in her blue muslin, and her sweet innocent
face blushes a little as he speaks, and her dark fearless
eyes smile an answer. There is a something in her ex-
pression that needs no words, and I look into Mrs. Dela-
court's face with a quick beating of the heart, and see
Clive's mother's eyes grow dim.
"I wish it had been Chris," is all she says, with a lit
tle smile.
And from the bottom of my heart I wish it had been
Chris too. He is standing talking to Lena; but I can
see that his eyes stray often towards Bee; and by-and-
by, when we all saunter into the dewy garden in the
twilight, poor Chris walks by Bee, and I find myself
wishing that she loved him.
66
Humphrey, I think I shall go and see how Felicia
is," I say, leaving the others and going up to my hus-
band for a second.
"Do, dear; but I wish this had not happened. It
makes me very anxious about Felicia."
I find her door open, and I step in softly, lest she may
be asleep; but the bed is empty, and at the open win-
dow kneels Felicia, bending out. The sound of the
voices from below is wafted up-subdued voices and
laughter. Suddenly she draws back from the window,
and, laying her arms upon the sill, leans her head
upon them with a moan. For a moment I stand
watching the small heap of black drapery, and then I
slowly cross the room.
"Is your headache better, Felicia?"
She raises her head, and in the twilight I can see her
eyes, like great stars, looking up into mine.
"Does he know I am here?" she asks in a low tone.
238
MY MARRIAGE.
"No," I answer shortly.
Her long thick hair hangs over her shoulders, and
her face is stained from long crying. I cannot help feel-
ing some curiosity, and wonder what there can be about
Mr. Carrington to cause such emotion.
"How long does he stay here?" she asks presently,
in the same breathless whisper; and I tell her that I
think he leaves Ripley to-morrow.
"To-morrow!"-beginning to cry again, with her
head on her folded arms.
"This Mr.
"You are very foolish, Felicia," I say.
Carrington will in all probability not come to Ripley
again, and he does not know you are here.”
"And he must not know. Oh, Mrs. Carstairs, you
have been good to me while I have been with you, and
I am
sure you think it strange that I do not give
you any explanation; but it is not for my own sake only
that I keep silence."
She has risen to her feet, and we stand looking into
each other's faces, she in her black dress, I in white.
A sudden feeling of sorrow and something like indig-
nation arises, and I wish that this girl had never entered
our home, never come between me and my husband.
With all her tears, she cannot be one half so miserable
as I am at this moment.
The voices are under the windows now. With a start
Felicia leans forward, listening intently; and when she
turns to me again her lips are quivering.
"Why did he come?" she says, more to herself than
me; and then, with more calmness of voice and manner
"Mrs. Carstairs, I think it would be better for me to
try to get a situation as governess at once. You have
been very, very kind to me, you and Mr. Carstairs,
and
""
"Do not distress yourself about it to-night, Felicia,'
I say; and in the dusk even the blood rushes to my
temples. "I do not think, Felicia, that Humphrey would
wish you to leave us yet. If you are happy here, why
need you go away?"
MY MARRIAGE.
239
Mingled pride of spirit and loyalty and trust in my
husband prompt the last words. At this moment I feel
more kindly disposed to Felicia Grant than I have felt
for very long, and, moved by a sudden impulse, I reach
forward and kiss her on the lips.
Carrington, Mark, I say, look here!"
Chris Delacourt's hearty voice rings out through the
dewy darkness, and then we hear the lower, softer tones
of Mr. Carrington answering in response. Felicia catches
her breath with a sob.
""
Mark, Mark!" She whispers the name passion-
ately, as if it were wrung from her lips without will of
her own, and then she turns to me with a wild sorrow in
her face. "What am I saying? Mrs. Carstairs, forget
what I have said."
"I will, Felicia."
I
MR.
CHAPTER XXIX.
R. CARRINGTON goes away, and Felicia Grant
after a few days loses her weird, haunted look,
and our whole attention is absorbed by the preparations
for a great garden party that we are to give next week,
which is to be the fête of the season, winding up with a
dance in the evening.
For the present all unpleasantness is forgotten or
drowned in the excitement of the moment. I mean my
garden-party to be a tremendous success, a thing to be
talked of in the neighborhood, and Humphrey enters
warmly into all my plans, and seconds even the most
extravagant suggestions.
""
"Won't it cost a great deal? I say once, with a little
gasp of compunction, as we discuss the preparations
marquees are to be erected, and Carstairs is to be turned
into a veritable fairy-land.
"Never mind that," says Humphrey. "Don't you
!
1
240
MY MARRIAGE.
remember our old quarrel about the expense of things,
Madgie?"
"Do you ever forget anything, Humphrey?" I ask,
with ather a sad little smile as I think of his passionate.
love for me in those old days—the love that is a thing
of the past now.
His voice quivers as he answers
"I remember every incident connected with you, and
the words you have used.”
66
Many things that I have said would be better for
gotten."
My voice is tremulous too, for even the frank out-
spokenness of those days would be better than the cloud
that has come between us now.
He lays his hand on mine for a second, and then
draws it away with a long sigh, looking straight into my
face.
"The lovely Mrs. Carstairs that is what you are
called, Madgie. Does it make you the happier, dear, to
be called the beauty of the county?"
He speaks sadly, and I answer with bitter truthful-
ness
"No. I am as Heaven has made me. And yet I
think I should have been happier.if I had been plainer;
for the same people who praise my looks say also that
all the Carstairs married for beauty" - raising my tear-
less eyes to his.
"Not all the Carstairs," he returns quietly.
For a moment the words satisfy the longing in my
heart, for at least he loved me once. He puts his hand
beneath my chin, raises my face towards his, and looks
long and searchingly into my eyes.
“Would
"So beautiful, and my wife!" he murmurs.
to Heaven I could read the truth in those eyes!"
Madgie, Madgie !”.
For once I am sorry to hear Bee's clear voice. My
husband and I seemed to come so near to each other in
those last few moments, heart to heart, in the still hour
of twilight; and now the thoughts that trembled in
MY MARRIAGE.
2.41
words upon my lips go rushing back and remain un-
spoken.
Humphrey gets up and gives his place to Bee, lights
a cigar, and saunters down the path.
"Let us talk about the party," says Bee. "Madgie,
how good it is of Humphrey to tell you to send for
dresses for Lena and me! I do think he is the best and
kindest-hearted man in the world."
"Yes," I answer, and can find no warmer word of
praise for my husband.
Bee looks at me with a sort of solemn expression on
her face.
“Madgie, you are greatly changed. You are not one
bit like what you used to be."
"Not a bit," I assent wearily. "I think I am a dif-
ferent being. But"-with a little laugh—“this is not
talking of the party, Bee."
Bee laughs and takes the hint.
Captain Delacourt told me, Madgie, that every one
was raving about your fête. And do you know what he
said the people would come for?"
"To amuse themselves, I suppose."
"No to look at you. Why, Madgie, at home we
never thought so much of your looks! Of course you
were always the pretty one of the family. But dress
makes a great difference. Don't you think so?”
"All the difference in the world," I reply, thinking of
the sun-burnt happy Madgie of long ago, and of the
Madgie of the present time, the beauty of the county
and Humphrey Carstairs' wife.
Out of the twilight shadow beyond comes Lena.
"Where is Felicia?
""
Bee puts the question; and my passionate woman's
heart aches sorely at the answer.
"With Humphrey. I thought I was not wanted when
they began to talk of pictures and painting, and so I
came away."
Silent I sit, without word or sign, with a passionate
tide of feeling rising and swelling, and thoughts in my
16
242
MY MARRIAGE.
heart that it were better were not there; for, when, five
minutes later, Chris Delacourt and his brother appear
with the excuse of a note from Mrs. Delacourt, there is
a bitter feeling of resentment against my husband, a
desire to try to make his heart ache as mine is aching,
to try to show him that I do not care.
A few carelessly-spoken words, an answering laugh to
a man's low-spoken tones, and then, because I know it
will vex Humphrey to see me with Captain Delacourt, I
accept his offer, and walk away through the dewy starlit
garden alone with him, leaving Bee and Lena with Chris.
What I say I do not know a string of mad non-
sense fast and reckless, with never a thought of the
better hopes that had come not an hour ago, when my
husband's eyes were looking into mine.
66
says.
Every one is talking of your fête," Captain Delacourt
"And people will have plenty to talk about when it is
over," I answer, little thinking or dreaming of the topic
they will have for conversation.
66
Beauty and the Beast's garden-party," he goes on,
with a laugh, coming a step nearer in the darkness.
The air is heavy and fragrant with the scent of many
flowers. Soft and balmy blows the evening wind that
touches my burning cheeks now and lifts the hair from
off my hot forehead.
I hear murmuring voices. Humphrey and Felicia are
coming towards us.
"Come! They do not want us," Captain Delacourt
says; and I obey him, turning away into another path,
with a light little laugh that has neither mirth nor pleas-
ure in it.
"Your husband and Miss Grant are having
a flirtation. It would have been unkind to interrupt
them."
I laugh again, as if I cared not, while the idly-spoken
words gnaw and eat into my heart. Ah me for the mar-
riage-vows spoken only one short year ago, by a girl's
white lips!"Love, honor, and obey." Honor him I
cannot honor and obey the two out of my marriage.
{
MY MARRIAGE.
243
vows that were so easy to keep. And that other? The
knowledge has come too late that I love him with a great
passionate love, a love that will live till the beating of
my heart is still for ever. And what is the good of it
all? Of what use is love but to "pile up the agonies
in a three-volume novel, with a grand climax of human
hopes and human hearts broken and blighted? I, a liv
ing, breathing woman, one of the fair ones of creation,
love, and am miserable, as men and women will do and
be till the end.
1
:
“Mrs. Carstairs, I think you are a coquette."
So the man at my side says; and I answer, looking
up at him in the gloom
"Why do you say that?"
"Because sometimes you avoid me; and now to-night
you looked
shall I say it? — glad to see me."
"So I was; we have seen no one all day, and you have
always plenty to say."
"So you like me only because I have plenty to say?"
Right merrily I laugh out in the darkness-
"I have never said I liked you at all.”
"Coquette !" he whispers.
No coquette am I only a miserable woman, a little
angry, and feeling the bitterness that ends so often in a
mist of tears and a life-long regret.
Captain Delacourt hums the song "Sweethearts" half
to himself
"Give me a flower, dear love,' said he."
So he sings, and lays a hand on the rose in my dress,
a half-open yellow rose, with its twin-sister in my hair,
Humphrey brought them to me when I was dressing to-
night. There is no time for pausing. I let him take the
flower, without thought or heed for the morrow; and,
when we two come into the lighted drawing-room, my
rose is in his coat, and I see that my husband notices it.
Once before have I seen that look on his face, that
tightening of the lips and sudden darkening of his eyes.
It frightened me then; now I return his glance with one
244
MY MARRIAGE.
brief haughty flash, and then smile up at the man at my
side, a smile that suddenly fades on my lips at sight of
something in Bee's face, a sort of piteous appeal and
bewilderment.
I do not care to think what she means I care for
nothing to-night, and Humphrey's look and manner add
oil to the flames.
"Bee and I are going to ride to-morrow; Bee is to
ride Kitty. Will you come, Captain Delacourt ?'”
"With the greatest of pleasure," he replies, with a
smile in his dark eyes.
"May I come too?" Chris asks quite humbly.
“Oh, of course!" I answer, laughing.
"Three are
not company, you know."
Why at this moment should my promise rise before
me the promise in which I vowed to live for my hus-
band a vow that might have been kept if things had
been different, if Felicia Grant had never come to Car-
stairs? Love and hate! Little we know what we are
capable of feeling till we are tried little we dream
how our hearts may ache and our whole nature writhe
and quiver when the time comes that does come to
some of us in a lifetime,
"When there is a sigh too much and a kiss too long,
And the world is never the same again.”
But for the pity of it all, I could laugh to think that
I, who scoffed and scorned at a nearer, dearer feeling
than friendship, should love my husband with a love that
is all in vain this grave bearded man, who looks at me
now as I stand with the yellow rose in my hair and its
fellow in the keeping of the man beside me, who is gaz-
ing down at me with his long-lashed dark eyes.
A spirit of reckless daring takes possession of my
soul, and brings smiles and laughter to lips and eyes.
But it is a very womanly feeling after all that makes
me long to kneel down at my husband's feet and pray
for one smile. So I think; but my words are very dif
ferent.
MY MARRIAGE.
245
"To-morrow then. You won't forget?"
<<
Forget?" and Captain Delacourt looks at Bee as
he speaks, a look that makes her rosy-red.
The Delacourts go away, and yet Humphrey speaks
not; even when we two, husband and wife, are alone, he
speaks not he wears only a pained grave look.
On the morrow, when the horses come round, out of
sheer bravado I smile half defiantly into his face before
we ride away.
He lays his hand on mine for a moment,
and whispers so that only I can hear
(C
Child, for your own sake take care!”
My own sake! I draw my hands away, and close my
lips tightly. And, if I do not enjoy my ride, no one
knows but myself, for verily it is sadly true that the heart
knoweth its own bitterness.
*
*
*
I am standing gazing through blinding tears at a half-
finished picture-Humphrey's handiwork. It is not a
picture to weep over-only a wide sea, with white-
tipped waves gleaming in the evening light, and a boat
running before the wind a boat with a lug-sail, and
the water curling and seething past her bows, and amidst
the fishermen a few crouching figures; and the scene
brings back the period of horror and terror, the rush of
the blinding waves, the thought of death.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I catch my breath
and bend my face to hide the tears.
"I thought Felicia was here," my husband begins;
and it is a bad beginning, for my heart is hardened
directly.
(6
Looking at my picture, Madgie?"
'Yes," I answer shortly.
subject, Humphrey ?
When he speaks it is in
"Why did you choose that
a very low voice.
I have
"Because it has been in my mind ever since.
seen it in dreams so often the stretch of sea, the rising
waves, and the boat that Heaven sent to save my wife.”
"I wish that boat had never come," I say, still cold
and hard. “It would have been all over now, and you
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MY MARRIAGE.
a
would not have had the expense and trouble of this
garden-party. How soon would you have married again,
Humphrey ?" I add, ending with a miserable attempt at
a laugh, and looking up into his face with eyes wet with
tears.
("
}
Madgie, why will you speak like this ?" he says, with
the sort of quietness that is more awful sometimes than
the most passionate outburst. "Heaven knows, my
wife, if you are unhappy, so am I!'
Standing before him, straight and slim, I raise the
face he worshipped once, and smile, oh, so mookingly!
"Who says I am unhappy? I have everything I want.
"And I,” he answers in a low intense voice, "want
but the one thing, and it is denied me."
""
"Humphrey' and just for one second my small
66
brown hand rests on his sleeve
can we not make
the best of it? It will be all the same a hundred years
hence."
"C
Oh, child, I cannot bear to hear you talk like this!"
Why is there such pain in his voice, such intense
sadness in his face as he speaks?
I look at the picture again, and gaze at the frothing
curling waves. If I had been drowned he would have
married Felicia. I wonder if he thought of that all
the hours he sat painting this picture.
66
'Madgie, I have never thought any one could change
so utterly," he says; and I try to laugh.
"Am I growing ugly, Humphrey?'
66
Ugly? No". and he sighs. "But you are not the
sweet childlike Madgie I married, whose very faults
were lovable. Tell me, my wife, why it is."
"You know the reason, Humphrey," I answer, with
lips that quiver. "And the change is not all on my
side. I will try to be anything you wish."
Then he turns away and goes to the window and
stands looking out.
66
I did not know the Delacourts were here, Madgie."
"Yes; I asked them to stay to lunch."
I go and stand beside him, looking down on the ten-
MY MARRIAGE.
24%
nis-court where Bee and Lena are playing tennis with
Captain Delacourt and Chris.
66
Humphrey, I think he likes Bee."
"Who? Chris ?"
66
No; I mean Captain Delacourt.
I never finish the sentence, for
suddenly grasps my wrist, and his
passionate, gaze down into mine.
91
But poor Chris
my husband's hand
eyes, wrathful and
"For heaven's sake, child, do not stoop to deceive! "
In at the open doorway comes Felicia, and his speech
is stopped midway; and, with one flushed indignant
glance, I turn indifferently to Felicia, say a few careless
words, and sweep out of the room, leaving them to-
gether.
Balmy air, a dull day, and young people playing at
lawn-tennis. It is a pleasant sight enough; but I see
no joy, no delight in anything as with a hard resentful
heart I sit watching the game.
IT
CHAPTER XXX.
T is the morning of my fête, and the day could not
have been lovelier. There is a dim golden haze
which gives promise of a warm summer day.
"Oh, Madgie, how glorious!" Bee cries rapturously.
"And how quietly you take everything!"
"I wish it was over," I say wearily.
It is my birthday too, and my plate at breakfast is
piled with little presents and offerings from home. Tears
start to my eyes as I think of by-gone birthdays, from
the days when I was crowned with a wreath of roses out
of the sweet tangled garden at home to my birthday now,
which sees me standing, fair, two-and-twenty, at the head
of my table, gazing with tearful eyes at a needle-book
manufactured by Isabel's little fingers, and a lace collar
248
MY MARRIAGE.
and cuffs that must have cost Helen many an hour's
work. How dear these home remembrances seem now,
the loving letters, the wishes that are wishes indeed!
Everybody has given me a present, even Felicia – a
picture of her own painting; and all its merit is, she
says, due to Humphrey's teaching. He alone has for-
gotten my birthday; he has not even wished me many
happy returns of the day. Bee's present I open last
a square brown parcel,'carefully sealed, and "With Bee's
love" written, outside. It is a book. I turn to the
title-page, look over a few of the leaves, and, with a
start, raise my eyes, to see Bee's bright face radiant with
excitement watching me.
"You wrote this, Bee?"
"Yes; and, oh, Madgie, it is my first book, and
Humphrey had it published for me to give you on your
birthday!'
I look swiftly in my husband's direction; but only the
top of his head is visible over the newspaper; and with
a beating heart I bend over Bee's book again.
"Do you like
like it?” she asks breathlessly.
"Yes, Bee; I would rather have this than anything
else you could give me.”
Bee's book her own thoughts in these printed
pages! It was kind of Humphrey to think of it; and
yet, though I look longingly towards him, his eyes
are never once lifted from the paper. It rustles a little
in his hand, he folds it up deliberately, and yet our eyes
do not meet.
By-and-by, as I stand in the drawing-room, which is
carpetless and waxed for the dance to-night, Humphrey
comes in, and, shutting the door behind him, walks up
to me as I stand at the other end of the long room.
Gravely I look at him, gravely he looks at me.
smiles at last and holds out his hand.
He
"Did you think I had forgotten your birthday,
Madgie?"
"I do not see any reason why you should remember
it," I say coldly, not appearing to see his proffered hand
MY MARRIAGE.
249
and drawing back a step from where he stands towering
above me.
"Madgie, my wife" and he clasps me tightly to
him "my child, my little love, is there to be nothing
but cold looks between us now? Darling, I wish you
many, many happy returns of the day. From my whole
heart I say,' Heaven bless my wife!
But I shiver in the clasp of his arms, and shrink from
the touch of his lips; and he lets me go suddenly.
I have a birthday present for you, Madgie," he says
and the passion has died out of his voice.
He clasps his gift on my arm, and with a full heart
I gaze upon it in silence. The costly bracelet gives me
no pleasure. It is a broad gold band with a diamond
clasp. For a second my hand lies coldly in his, and
then a mist of pain comes to my eyes, and I turn away
with a burst of wild passionate weeping.
Poor child!" Humphrey says sorrowfully. "Heaven
help us both, Madgie! I see the wrong of our mar-
riage now; but I thought it might have ended differ-
ently."
With a quick passionate gesture I raise my tearful
eyes and hot flushed face.
66
It might have been right by this if others had not
come between us.'
"We are strangely situated, wife," he says, sighing
deeply. "I would you had loved me more.'
- his
"Or not at all!" I cry. "Humphrey, I should have been
happier then." On my wrist the diamonds flash
birthday present. "I have not thanked you yet," I
whisper presently, touching the bracelet and raising shy
wet eyes to his sorrowfully. "And, Humphrey, it was
kind of you to have Bee's book printed; and I am not
ungrateful for all that is good and kind; only —
>>
And then the piteous reproach in his eyes ends the
faltering words.
"Grateful, good, kind!" he repeats slowly. "Child,
you will drive me mad! You make me wish that I was
dead, or that we had never met.”
C
250
MY MARRIAGE.
•
Do I echo the last wish in truth? I know not. He
bends his face suddenly to mine.
'You have not thanked me yet?" he whispers; and
with a sigh I grant him a cold reluctant kiss.
I know not the pain caused at the fleeting touch of my
quivering lips.
*
**
*
There is no lack of guests to-day at my fête. Stand-
ing at my husband's side, I feel a little weary of saying
polite unmeaning things and smiling welcomes to half
the county. But at last every one has come. The band
is playing, and the people are, I suppose, enjoying
themselves, according to the scant measure of amuse-
ment that may be obtained at a garden-party.´ If a crowd
constitutes a success, my fete is successful beyond meas-
ure; and I alone perhaps of all the assembled throng
find no enjoyment and gain no pleasure in what is called
pleasure to-day.
I am tired of compliments and flattery. Every man
has expressed either by word or looks his opinion of my
appearance to-day, and nearly every woman has done
the same in a different way. Bee says dress makes all
the difference, and Bee is right. The starched muslins
of long ago never added to the beauty the world allots
to me, while the wonderful and mysterious costume I
wear to-day is a thing of beauty in itself, a marvellous
production of Worth, a combination of delicate tints and
costly lace, the sort of dress I never dreamed of in my
Madgie Alison days.
One man alone notices me not, pays me no compli-
ment, praises not my dress, my looks-and that man is
my husband. I am hurt at the omission; and yet I will
not ask him if I look well to-day. The old days for
saucy badinage and mad merry nonsense are gone by. I
keep my smiles for my guests, and reserve cold words
and looks for my husband.
Strangers yet,
After touch of wedded hands."
MY MARRIAGE.
251
Bee sang that last night, and the words are stored in
my heart.
Felicia Grant looks like an old picture; her long
black garments trail on the sunlit grass. She wears
large soft fleecy ruffles at her throat and wrists, and a
black gipsy hat tied over her fair hair. She gets away
into quiet corners by herself, and does not speak much
to any one. Humphrey joins her.
Humphrey joins her. They walk away in
the sunshine together, and I talk and listen to those
around me, while I think nay, it were better not to
think. Thoughts are dangerous sometimes.
*
*
*
*
*
Over the sea the golden sunshine falls like a sheet of
yellow light. Far away it touches a red sail, and down
on the shore, where the tide scarcely ripples, the sun-
beams catch the dimpling margin and play strange
freaks with the lights and shadows in the cool depths
beyond. Up on the cliff-top are the yellow uncut corn
and a flame of poppies.
I have got away from everybody at last. There is a
great peace and stillness up here, broken only by the
rustling corn and murmuring waters. A quarter of an
hour ago I was listening to music and laughter and
voices, now I stand here with my own thoughts for com-
pany- and no company was ever more unwelcome.
A laugh ripples out in the silence, a soft happy laugh.
It is Bee's voice, I know. I turn and see her. She is
coming along the winding path, her tall lissom figure
clearly outlined against the golden sea. Captain Dela-
court walks at her side. The path is too narrow for
three, and Chris has fallen behind. Bee is all in white,
soft snowy white, with roses that are not redder than her
smiling lips fastened in her dress.
'Why, Madgie, what are you doing here all by your-
self?"
I was tired of talking to people," I answer. "There
are so many of them, and they all say the same things."
6.
Something has annoyed you."
It is Captain Delacourt who says this; and I turn my
vexed face towards the sea again.
252
MY MARRIAGE.
66
Why should anything have annoyed me?"
'I do not know; but something has. I have seen it
all day."
'I hate being watched," I say crossly.
And then there is some mention of Felicia Grant, and
the hot blood surges to my face. A man's dark eyes
look full into mine, and I know that Clive Delacourt has
read my thoughts.
Chris, his honest sun-burnt face beaming with pleasure,
has got Bee to himself at last, and improves the oppor-
tunity so well that she saunters slowly on with him; and
we two follow in silence, a silence that is somewhat un-
usual. Captain Delacourt breaks it first.
"Mrs. Carstairs, why have you avoided me all day?"
'I did not know I had avoided you.”
'You did," he persists. "You talked to every one
else, and I was left out in the cold."
"And if you were?"
The short ungracious words are uttered with indiffer-
ence; but, looking at him, I see that the blood has
risen to his cheek.
"If I were!" he echoes.
speech, Mrs. Carstairs."
"That was not a kind
"No," I own frankly, "it was not; but I am cross
to-day, and so you must forgive me."
You are more than cross; you are not happy," he
says in a low voice, looking down at my face.
As you
stood to-day, receiving all those people, I thought I
never saw you look more beautiful or more unhappy."
"And what cause have I for unhappiness?” I ask,
with a certain defiant bitterness, for his words have
struck home.
"That you know best yourself," he answers quietly.
"If wealth, beauty, popularity, make happiness, you of
all people ought to possess that chimera. But is there
not a something more, the one thing wanting?"
My handkerchief flutters to the ground;
as he
stoops and hands the morsel of lace back into my keep-
ing, I laugh, and he colors.
MY
25.3
MY MARRIAGE.
"You are quite eloquent to-day, Captain Delacourt.
Please go on; it is very amusing.'
He bites his lip.
"Turn it into satire, if you will," he says shortly.
"Mrs. Carstairs, look here."
I see an open pocket-book in his hand, and between
the leaves a faded yellow rose. Some one has given it
to him; I suppose some sentimental memory is attached
to the poor withered thing.
“Well?” I say, as he touches it tenderly.
"Have you forgotten this rose?" he asks, so mean-
ingly that I raise my eyes in wonder to his face.
'I, Captain Delacourt? What have I to do with it?"
Nothing!" he cries passionately, and flings 'the
withered scentless thing over the cliff.
The night that I allowed him playfully to possess
himself of the rose that Humphrey gave me has clean
gone out of my memory. I do not think of
I do not think of it till after-
wards the afterwards that is to come.
The dried rose flutters through the warm bright air,
and drops softly down upon the yellow shore, many feet
below. I look with a little grave wonder at the sup-
pressed passion in the face of the man whose eyes fol-
low the tiny flower and rest on it as it lies on the mar-
gin of silver fringe out of reach of human hand for
evermore. Bee and Chris are out of sight; we two stand
alone on the cliff-top.
"We had better be going back," I say presently,
addressing my moody companion.
"Why?" he exclaims, stepping back suddenly among
the poppies. Are you afraid to stay with me?"
66
“Afraid, Captain Delacourt! I do not know what
you mean," I answer a little indignantly; for I do not
choose that, if he is in a bad temper, he should visit it
on me. So I gather my long sweeping garments over
my arm and move on slowly.
"If you are not afraid of me, you are afraid of your
husband."
The low whispered words rouse my anger. I turn on
him in a whirlwind of passion.
254
MY MARRIAGE.
"Captain Delacourt, I think you forget yourself; you
have no right to say such things!"
((
"Can you say they are not true?" he asks, his eyes
on my face. No; I see you cannot. You may look
as proud and passionate as you please; it enhances your
beauty perhaps, but it does not deceive me."
There is a pause; the tumult of feeling ends, and a
mist rises in my eyes. I look at him with trembling lips.
"Have I pained you?" he asks gently.
"Can we
not be frank with each other, instead of keeping up this
miserable farce of indifference? You are unhappy
you cannot deny it."
and my
"I do not deny it," I say in a low voice
heart swells at the truth of the whispered words.
I do not look at him, but down at the brown earth
at my feet, nervously twisting my fingers together, more
agitated than I care to show; for why should this man
become acquainted with the misery of our home?
A startled exclamation bursts from me. Idly slipping
my rings up and down as I used to do when first the
gold band fretted so sorely, they have dropped off
my finger amongst the grass. I see a gleam of gold,
a flash of diamonds, and then, alarmed, I look up
quickly.
"My ring my wedding-ring! I have dropped it!"
He immediately goes down upon his knees to search
amongst the yellow corn-stalks, while I look in dismay
at my bare finger. A strange foreboding makes my
heart beat quickly.
"Can't you find it? Oh, search well, please! It
cannot have rolled far," I say, with increasing anxiety,
watching him crushing back the corn and poppies with
his hands.
"Here is your guard-ring," he says, at last, in a strange
muffled voice; "but I cannot find the other."
"You must!" I cry, with tremulous eagerness, going
down upon the ground myself, and searching with
trembling hands.
But no gleam of gold do I see, no flash of yellow
MY MARRIAGE.
255
light; and I look up with a blank, quivering face. My
wedding-ring is gone.
Gone! I look at my bare hand, and then search
again desperately; but the ring has rolled away into
some hollow where our eyes cannot discover it, search as
we may.
My fingers are suddenly grasped. I look up with a
start, to see Captain Delacourt gazing, with a strange
expression on his face, at the hand he is holding -
my left hand, where no wedding-ring gleams now.
*
"What a difference it would have made if it had never
been there!" The words drop from his lips with a
strange hoarse utterance, and he tightens his clasp on my
fingers.
:
"Poor little hand, it might have been mine!"
Is he mad am I mad that he should thus look
into my face, with an awful gathering passion in his
eyes? I snatch away my hand, while the hot blood
burns my face.
"Look for my wedding-ring!" I gasp.:
find it.
you must!
"What do you take me for," he says
"You must
a stone?
Do you think I have no feeling, that you look at me like
that, and bid me find the ring, the bit of gold that sepa-
rates you from me? I should be something more or less
than a man to do so!" His face is dusky red as he
speaks, his voice rising to passionate vehemence.
I rise to my feet and gaze down at him with gathering
horror.
"What do you mean?" comes faltering at last from
my lips..
It is the most unwise thing I could say; but, in my
ignorance of the world, I know not what he means, and
stand before him with growing fear and wonder. He is
so close to me that I hear his quick, hurried breathing.
"What do I mean," he cries, in a low passionate voice.
"You ask me that, when you have stolen everything
from me, when my life has been spoilt because of you!
"What have I to do with your life?" I say wearily,
4
4
256
MY MARRIAGE.
for I am thinking more of my lost ring, that mystic golden
band, than of the wild words that fall from his lips;
they convey only a dim, terrifying wonder to me. "Take
me to my husband," I say next, trembling from head to
foot; for there is something dawning and gathering in
Clive Delacourt's face which frightens me, and I instinc-
tively shrink away from him.
"Your husband!" he cries vehemently. "Oh, what
hypocrites you women are! You lead on a man, and
steal away his heart, his very life out of him, and then
your prudence takes fright! Yes, you may stand there
looking at me with those eyes of yours
child's eyes,
innocent as Heaven - but you are a woman, and you
cannot pretend you do not know that as never did I love
woman before, so now do I love you!"
He stops, and like a flame the blood rushes to my
face as our eyes meet; and I read in his a look that I
have seen in my husband's in the days when Humphrey
loved me.
For a moment the corn-field and the passionate
eyes looking into mine become blurred and indistinct ;
and then I turn white and cold, and answer steadily
enough-
""
"How dare you speak of such things to me a mar-
ried woman! Oh, the shame, the agony of it, that he
should speak of love to me, the wife of another man!
I look at him with an awful dawning of this world's in-
iquity in my heart. Captain Delacourt, pray Heaven
to forgive you! Such words as you have spoken are an
insult to me!"
66
He answers not; he is evidently moved, and the veins
on his forehead stand out swollen.
"Let me pass!" I say.
But he stands in the path and blocks the way; and I
would fain push him back with my ringless left hand
when he springs forward.
(6
"You shall not look at me like that!" he cries.
Madgie, you shall hear me."
C
Stop!" I exclaim, and try to get past, and then
pause. Captain Delacourt, you are mad!"
66
MY MARRIAGE.
25%
"
“You are his, when you might have been mine,” he
says, coming a step nearer and the tone of his voice
frightens me. Yes, look at me well, Madgię! Your
face has driven me mad; but I swear I will make you
love me yet! I—
His speech is never finished, He moves forward, and
I do not know what he is going to do. I take a scared
look at his quivering face and passionate eyes, and with
sudden terror spring hastily back.
*
*
A steep cliff-far down below, the shining sand-
above, the blue sky, the nodding poppies, and a man's
face convulsed with terror and agony. Clinging with
frail weak hands to the face of the cliff, I hang for what
appear to be the last few moments of my life.
"Save me, save me !"
The words are wafted up from my lips in a gasping
whisper, as one speaks in a dream when human utter-
ance will not make itself heard. My slight weak wrists
ache from the weight of my body. With the strength of
an awful despair my hands cling to a jutting stone; one
foot has a trembling insecure hold on the face of the
cliff. If Captain Delacourt were to reach down, his fin-
gers could grasp mine.
"Reach me your hand!"
My white terrified face is upturned, and he can see its
anguish. A great tearless sob breaks from him.
"
"I cannot," comes almost inarticulately from his lips.
It would be certain death for both!"
In spite of the agony, the awful paralyzing terror, the
word "Coward!" breaks from me with a bitter smile.
He is something less than man indeed to let a woman
die without effort to help, though he met death too. It
would be his duty, nothing more.
•
His is the last human face I shall ever see, his the last
voice I shall hear. Oh, Heaven, it is hard to die, to
cling with my weak woman's hands till human strength
gives way, and my young strong life is crushed out down
on the stones below!
(
I
{
17
258
MY MARRIAGE.
I see Clive Delacourt, with the tears running down
his face, and with great sobs breaking from him, gazing
down at me, and up above the blue sky and the golden
light around. The strain on my hands amounts to agony;
in another second or two my fingers will unclasp their
hold, and then Oh, Heaven, have mercy on me! Is
there no pity, no help? I utter no sound - I only lift
horror-filled eyes to that other face looking down at me.
A few stones loosen themselves and go rolling down. I
hear them.fall upon the beach below, and turn suddenly
faint.
"Tell Humphrey I loved him!"
The words are so low that I think he does not hear
them. His face is white and convulsed; he throws
himself upon the grass and hides his eyes, and so no
human eye will see the end.
A moment's desperate clinging to life, a wild prayer
to Heaven to send help, and then even were I to
live a hundred years, the horror of that moment will be
fresh still when my hands are loosing their clasp, a
wild cry echoes through the air-
"Humphrey, Humphrey !"
I
CHAPTER XXXI.
SEE my husband's face, white as death, with horri-
fied eyes looking down into mine.
Madgie, hold on a second!"
The strong hopeful words bring back my life and
strength. One more effort before I pass into eternity,
a desperate clinging of my aching hands, and then he
speaks again with a quick determined utterance, but
with no apparent fear in his voice, though afterwards I
know the awful unspeakable agony that well-nigh broke
his heart.
66 Reach up your right hand to me. Don't be fright
ened, my child."
MY MARRIAGE.
259
Blindly I obey him, and feel the strong, firm clasp that
will never let me go, close round my hand and hold it
tight. He lies flat upon the cliff-top, holding on with
one hand, his left; his right holds me like a vice.
Both shall stand in safety on the earth again, or it will
be death together.
""
""
"Be brave now ;" and at his words I struggle against
the faintness. Delacourt, catch her as I draw her up,'
he gasps, rather than speaks; then he sets his teeth
and surely it is more than human strength that enables
him to draw me back into life.
A moment we sway and totter. I am slipping from
his clasp; and I cannot bear that he should die.
"Let me go!" And my eyes give a yearning
anguished glance upwards into his, the last I shall give
on earth. "Humphrey, good-by!"
Then come a blindness and a faintness, a shutting out
of all things from my view- and yet the strong fingers
seem to grasp mine still.
*
*
*
*
**
I wake, and see the poppies and the corn and the
slanting sunlight. I am lying not on the cruel stones,
but within my husband's arms, and my head rests upon
his shoulder. His face is wet with tears.
"It is all right now," he whispers ;" and here is Bee
coming."
Yes, white and scared, she comes with flying feet, and
kneels upon the grass beside me.
"Madgie, darling, what is it?"
I stretch out my arms weakly, and feel Bee's kisses
upon my face. I hide my eyes on her bosom, for some-
thing tells me that it is not to my husband that I can go
for comfort now.
"But what has happened?" I hear Chris Delacourt
saying. "You were with Mrs. Carstairs, Clive."
I tremble at the voice that answers as man's voice
never made me tremble yet.
"She missed her footing and fell. Good Heaven,
Chris, you can't expect me to talk of a thing like this!
260
MY MARRIAGE.
}
I cling to Bee and burst into hysterical weeping, feel-
ing a strange comfort in the clasp of her strong young
arms and the soothing tones of her sweet clear voice.
What was it that in one brief look I read in Humphrey's
face which checked the words that came to my lips, and
made me go to Bee for pity and consolation?
'Take me home - take me home!"
I mean my old home, and feel a passionate childish
longing for my mother's presence, a moment even of the
old life. But Humphrey misconstrues my words.
"I will take you home," he says. "Can you walk,
Madgie?"
"Yes;" and I rise slowly to my feet and stand sway-
ing and trembling, weak and tottering.
"I will carry you."
My husband takes me in his arms and strides away
through the field. I feel my dress rustling against the
corn and shut my eyes, for something in the face look-
ing down at me makes my heart ache.
"You will be tired," I say once, and, raising my eye-
lashes for a second, meet his steady gray eyes bent on
me with a strange and wondrous tenderness. "I can
walk now, Humphrey."
"Not yet ;" and he holds me closer.
"Do you
you think
I could not carry a light little thing like you? ?"
"Let me walk when we get near the house. I don't
want every one to be talking," I say, a flush rising to my
face.
"And Heaven knows I don't !" he replies bitterly.
And so I come amongst the people, walking feebly
still, with Humphrey and Bee supporting me. The report,
of my adventure has spread like wildfire, and people
come hurrying up with exclamations of pity and concern.
Chris however hurries forward, and I get into the house
in peace.
"Tell everybody that I shall be all right again in an
hour or so,” I say to him. "Don't let them go away ;
and please, Mr.. Delacourt, say all that is proper for me
and Bee will do the honors for me till I come down."
MY MARRIAGE.
261
1
So Chris goes off on his mission; and, still faint, and
with a sense of more than physical pain, I go wearily
up-stairs, where Bee takes off the dress the sight of
which I hate now, helps me into bed, and covers me up
in her own sweet loving fashion; and then, when she has
drawn down the blinds, she comes and holds my poor
maimed hand in hers, the right, for the left I keep hidden
from her sight. But I cannot look into the pure depths
of her dark eyes and think of the words I have heard
spoken to me this afternoon.
"I will go to sleep," I say, with wide-open sleepless
eyes; "and tell Humphrey not to come to me for an
hour."
Bee lays her face down upon the pillow for a moment;
and presses her cool smooth cheek against my flushed
burning one.
"Let me stay with you, Madgie. I don't think you
ought to be left alone, dear."
·66
Oh, nonsense, Bee! I only want to lie still for a
bit, and get over the fright." And then I add, with a
sudden feeling of terror that makes my breath come
with a long gasping sigh, "Oh, Bee, if Humphrey hadn't
come!"
"Heaven sent him," she whispers softly. "Madgie,
how was it that you fell? Captain Delacourt seems too
upset to be able to give any information."
Restlessly I turn away from her gaze.
"You must not ask him, Bee; and you must never
speak of this again. Do you understand, Bee? I
fell nothing more. Why don't you speak? Why do
you keep looking at me?"
For answer she strokes my hand gently.
"You are nervous, Madgie. The shock has been too
much for you."
It is not the shock, but the pity of it all that unnerves
me. That Bee should have given away her first love, let
her heart go out of her own keeping, and pass into the
possession of Clive Delacourt, while he is not worthy of
one glance from her sweet true eyes! I look at her till
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MY MARRIAGE.
my heart aches to bursting I note her fair unclouded
face, her sweet lips that have never quivered with pain
or sorrow yet. She will suffer some day—and I cannot
bear to think of it-the hardest, bitterest suffering of
all the putting away out of one's heart that which is
not worthy to be loved. May Heaven keep my sister
Bee free from such pain as this!
'Madgie, your hand is burning."
Her clear gentle voice, with the loving anxiety in its
tones, hurts me.
"Go and entertain all those people down-stairs, Bee
I shall be better soon. Don't fret about me, dear.”
With a little wistful look she goes, and I am left
alone.
An hour has passed away, and I lie with wide-open
eyes and flushed cheeks still. Humphrey comes in
then, and I shrink from the gaze of his eyes as he
stands looking down at me. There is something in his
face that was not there this morning- no, nor yester
day. My left hand is under my cheek. I cannot tell
him yet that I have lost my wedding-ring.
"Better, Madgie?"
Just the two words; and it seems as if it were hard to
speak them,
"Yes," I answer, with unsteady lips.
With a quick movement he draws my left hand from
under the shelter of my cheek, and lays it on his open
palm.
"Wife, where is your wedding-ring?" A grayish hue
spreads over his face as he puts the question, and with
closely-set lips he awaits my answer.
"I have lost it," I falter, and, raising my eyes for a
second, read in his something like contempt.
Madgie, child, tell me the truth!" he cries in a low
voice that quivers and breaks. "I would rather see you
dead at the foot of that cliff than know you told me a
lie!"
Bursting into tears, I sob out the truth, but not the
MY MARRIAGE.
263
whole truth-that my wedding-ring slipped off, and that
I could not find it.
Humphrey stops me suddenly.
"I have not asked you for an explanation of your
accident this afternoon, though you have given me
none why, you know best yourself. Heaven knows
that I would rather have looked upon my wife's dead
face to-day than believe that she was not true!"
"6
Humphrey!" I wind my arms round his neck, and
hold him close, hiding my face from the awful stern
pitiless look in his. "Humphrey, Humphrey, you loved
•me once!"
I feel a shiver run through him as one seized with
mortal agony. I clasp my arms closer; and then I feel
his hands unloose mine from their clinging hold, and I
know, even before he speaks, that for me his love is
dead.
"Once it would have seemed too much happiness to
have my wife's arms laid about my neck; now such an
embrace gives only pain."
Every word is spoken with grave distinctness; blankly
I look at him, feeling as all of us must feel when what
we hold nearest and dearest is slipping out of our grasp,
and we are powerless. Then I turn away and bury my
face in the pillow, with no word, no moan; but it seems
as if the bitterness of death that I faced scarcely two
hours ago was more bearable than that I am enduring`
now.
CHAPTER XXXII.
"MADGE, J-night," "So Humphrey says a couple
ΜΑ
ADGIE, I do not think it is wise for you to come
down
of hours later, standing gravely before me, with no love
in his eyes, and more of reproof than tenderness in his
tones, mingled with a certain weariness of voice and
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MY MARRIAGE.
…“
manner. My child, take my advice; let Bee act as
hostess.'
}
"No," I say wilfully; and then, with a little tremu-
lousness that will make itself perceptible
"I must go
down, and I must dance too; it will keep me from think-
ing."
"Poor child!"
At the intense pity in his voice I look up at him, and
blush crimson under his gaze.
Don't say that," I whisper breathlessly. "You must
not pity me, or I shall cry, and I think I have had
enough hysterics for one day"- ending with a sickly·
little smile. "You don't look very happy yourself, Hum-
phrey."
}
4
having said it, for it
He half turns away.
"Do you remember,
The next minute I am sorry for
is touching on dangerous ground.
"Happy!" he echoes wearily.
Madgie, when you used to wish you could even be con-
tent?".
((
Stop!" I cry petulantly. "If there is one thing
more utterly dismal than another, it is any one saying,
'Do you remember?" Memory is a doubtful blessing
after all."
"I don't know," he answers in the same tired voice,
as if he had gone through some mental or physical suf-
fering. "One may thank Heaven sometimes to have
even a sweet memory left, a word, a smile. A memory,
Madgie, makes up the sum-total of some people's happi-
ness." Then he holds out his right hand suddenly.
"Here is your wedding-ring; I found it amongst the
corn-stalks."
He speaks stiffly and with some embarrassment, hold-
ing out the little golden hoop for my acceptance.
"Oh, Humphrey, I am so glad!" I say breathlessly,
not taking it from him, but extending my bare hand to
him. "Please put it on," I whisper.
*
ment-
Gravely he complies, slipping on without word or com-
more indifferently than he would have buttoned
my glove — the golden band that binds us one to the
MY MARRIAGE,
265
other, and letting my hand drop again as if it were a
hot coal. The blood flies to my face and tears start to
my eyes, as my thoughts fly back to that other day, long,
long ago, in our honeymoon, and I remember with what
loving care and almost reverence he replaced my wed-
ding-ring then.
'I turn away with proud indifference, gather up my fan
and gloves, stand for a second to survey my figure in
the long pier-glass, and see myself arrayed in a long
black-satin dress, sweeping the ground in clinging folds.
It is cut square in the body, with ruffles of lace, and
looks like an old-fashioned picture. I give one pitiful
look into my own blue eyes, which seem strangely bright
to-night; see flushed cheeks and a proud set mouth.
Verily my beauty is of little value to me when I cannot
even keep my husband's love.
"If she be not fair to me,
What care I how fair she be?”
L
The beauty of face and form charms him no more; the
smile of eyes he used to love strikes chill and powerless
now. Tears gather under my eyelashes; yet I feel
wicked and desperate, and not like the innocent, light-
hearted, madcap Madgie whose only sin was marrying a
man she did not love, because even one less lightened
the burden at home. Do I always smile so bitterly, so
pathetically? I wonder, catching sight of a girl's reck-
less face, with scornful mouth and tear-wet eyes, looking
at me from the glass. What a poor unhappy thing she
looks, for all her brave clothes and the jewelled bracelets
that flash on her wrists and the gold collar round her
neck! If I begin to indulge in self-pity, I shall not be
able to go down to-night; so I sweep away from the
glass, and, with a laugh, turn to Humphrey.
“Do you like me in black? I think it looks rather
well."
•
But there is a something in his face which stops my
would-be gayety.
"My wife" he whispers, and, coming over, lays his
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MY MARRIAGE.
arins about me suddenly, straining me tightly to his
breast, and, bending his face, he kisses me, as we might
kiss one we never expected to meet on this side of eter-
nity again.
There is a knock at the door.
"Madgie!" Bee's voice calls.
I spring away from the clinging hold of my husband's
arms, trembling from head to foot, with a strange sense
of the love that is not less sweet for its bitter pain be-
cause of the touch of his kisses on my face.
Five minutes later I sweep down-stairs, with flushed
cheeks and wild bright eyes, my hand on Humphrey's
arm.
"Don't dance much, Madgie," he says, as we enter
the drawing-room, where Mrs. Delacourt takes posses-
sion of me immediately.
Chris is waiting for Bee; and presently I see them
dancing down the length of the long room to the notes
of a dreamy German waltz. I pity poor Chris Dela-
court from the bottom of my heart; this first sweet love
of his will bring only a great misery to him in the end.
I cannot stand the wonder and excitement, the count-
less questions and well-meant inquiries, that are the nec-
essary result of my accident this afternoon. Only one
other person besides myself knows quite how it hap-
pened, and he stands at the other end of the room,
looking deathly white, and with a frown on his forehead
like a thunder-cloud.
"You don't look any the worse for your adventure,
Mrs. Carstairs," somebody says; and I answer gayly
that I have never felt better in my life. I dance away
indefatigably, though I see Bee's piteous eyes looking
beseechingly at me now and then.
and
Outside, Carstairs appears all alight with countless
colored lamps. Half my guests are wandering through
the gardens; amongst others I see Felicia Grant
it is Humphrey who is with her. I see them step out of
the open window. He looks back; our eyes meet, and
he passes away amongst the lights and shadows beyond
MY MARRIAGE.
267
"Do you condemn me so much now?"
The whispered words set my heart beating wildly.
Captain Delacourt looks not at me, but at the two dis-
appearing in the semi-darkness outside; then he turns
his eyes and looks steadily into mine, till my eyelashes
fall on my cheeks.
"Won't you dance with me?" he says gently. “You
ought, if it were only for appearance' sake, to stop the
world talking."
"Why should people talk? There is no necessity to
dance with you, any more than with half the men in the
room"-looking defiantly past him, apparently deeply
engrossed in watching the three Misses Blake, sitting in
a row on a sofa, looking out eagerly for partners, and
affecting a sweet indifference as to the result. They
have changed their dresses, and appear in marvellous.
ball costumes, all three alike. "Go and dance with the
Blakes."
A waltz is commencing, and six eager eyes gaze over
three fluttering fans, Lena flies past like a blue and white
butterfly, dancing with a tall fair man, an eligible in this
inelegible county, and the six eager eyes turn green with
envy. A man comes steering his way through the crowd,
pausing often as he comes. The three fans flutter vio-
lently and the six eyes turn persistently in the other direc-
tion. He halts opposite the sofa, and, with a start, the
three faces smile pleasantly. He cannot dance with the
three sisters, but at least they may all hope. In a second
he has made his choice, and one of the Misses Blake is
whirled into the crowd. The other two lean back and
smile at each other.
“Go and dance with one of them," I say to Captain
Delacourt, for I cannot bear his presence near me; it
seems to me as if it were wrong to speak to this man
or listen to one word of his now.
66
"I won't," he answers, bending forward and looking
me in the face. Mrs. Carstairs, for your own sake
you ought to dance with me to-night; everybody will
notice it if you don't."
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MY MARRIAGE.
"And if they do?" I retort, flushing crimson, the
whole scene of the afternoon returning vividly to my
memory. "I do not wish to dance with you, Captain
Delacourt. I do not want to have anything to say to
you."
"May I have the pleasure of this waltz?" he persists.
"No" trembles on my lips; then I follow the di-
rection of his eyes, and see Humphrey and Felicia
together, and I say, "Yes, you may if you like," and in
another second sweep past Humphrey with Clive Dela-
court, the man I hate and despise most on earth.
"Why does Miss Grant stay here? Is she going to
live at Carstairs always?" he asks; and I answer with
more truth than wisdom-
"You had better ask my husband; he is her guar-
dian."
"And yours," his voice whispers in my ear, as we
swing past Humphrey and Felicia Grant again; and I
see my husband's eyes moodily regarding me.
•
"I am tired. Stop, please!"
It is not fatigue, but sudden faintness.
steadies me for a second.
His arm
"The room is very warm. Come into the conser-
vatory."
With a sort of desperation I let him do as he pleases.
We have reached the conservatory door, when a hand
touches my shoulder, and Humphrey stands beside me.
Madgie, you are dancing too much. You look
quite faint.'
(6
""
"It is only the heat," I say, with a reckless misery
thumping at my heart, and turn away from the pain in
his face. "Don't worry yourself, Humphrey. Čaptain
Delacourt will take care of me."
For one second the two men look straight into each
other's eyes, and then Humphrey goes away. I follow
him with my eyes, and see him go to the other end of
the room and stand by himself in one of the windows.
I catch my breath suddenly, and bend my face down that
none may read the trouble that must be written there.
MY MARRIAGE.
269
"Do you care so much as that?
""
I hate the sound of Clive Delacourt's voice, and
shiver with sudden pain. I will not answer him, but
lean back in the chair amongst the leaves and ferns,
trying to get calm. He is silent too; and we sit thus
for five minutes perhaps; then he speaks.
"Mrs. Carstairs, have you no pity for me?"
1
Why should I pity you?"- with a little scorn in my
voice; and his is unsteady enough as he goes on talking.
Because I have nothing to live for. You cannot
blame me for loving you. I couldn't help it. You
may turn away your head and look scornful. It can
make no difference. Somebody wrote something about
not wisely, but too well.' Heaven help us! Half
the love-stories of the world are after that pattern.
We are not masters of our own hearts. Can you blame
me, when your husband
""
At this I turn my eyes, which are blazing with indig-
nation, and look him full in the face.
Captain Delacourt, I decline to listen to any discus-
sion about my husband."
A short unpleasant laugh breaks from his lips; then
he turns crimson suddenly.
(6
Do you hold me in such utter contempt because my
arm was not so strong as his to-day?"
“He did not hesitate to face death to save a woman's
life," I rejoin, bitterly.
"She belonged to him," he says in a low voice.
Then I see the hand resting on his knee close sud-
denly like a vice, and, as if wrung from him, the words
fall from his lips "and I would rather see you dead
than have saved you for him!"
Not a word do I return; but there is a choking sensa-
tion in my throat, and an awful horror fills my soul. I
cannot speak. Words come to my lips and die away
unspoken.
66
Despise me now to the uttermost," he says in a low
tone; at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that
you are as miserable as myself."
•
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MY MARRIAGE.
Still I say no word, make no sign. I seem to see my
husband's face looking down at me, white and drawn
with agony-to hear his voice strong with courage.
He would have done the same for any other woman.
Not because he loved me did he imperil his life for
mine. The gay dance-music sounds strangely out of
place. I shiver as I listen, and my thoughts wander
far away. Bee's voice brings them back to the world
again.
"For Heaven's sake rouse yourself! You look like
death!" Captain Delacourt whispers hurriedly.
With a struggle I recover myself, and smile as Bee
passes with Chris Delacourt. They stop for a mo-
ment.
“Oh, Madgie, how tired you look!" Bee says; and
then she looks a little wistfully at the man at my side.
He has not danced with her to-night.
Will she care much, I wonder, when she knows all?
And it is for this thing that I hate him most.
I can
bear pain myself, but not that it should touch Bee. A
galop is being played, heart-stirring and inspiriting for
those whose hearts can echo to such sounds.
16
Come," says Chris - "we are losing the music."
Bee goes meekly with him, and with a rush of blinding
tears I look after her. Oh that my darling should suf-
fer, and her sweet eyes grow dim and clouded with pain,
while I cannot save her from one iota of it all!
"Poor Chris he is a good fellow!" Captain Dela-
court says uneasily, looking into my face; and in my
passion I speak out the plain truth which had better
perhaps been left unsaid.
"Only for you those two might have been happy!"
I know it," he answers in a low voice. Despise
and disbelieve me if you will, but on my honor I meant
no harm."
"No harm," I cry passionately, "to make love to my
sister when when -" I stop with crimson cheeks,
steady my voice, and go on again. "No harm, when
you knew Bee was not like other girls? She cannot
MY MARRIAGE.
271
flirt and be none the worse. Life is very earnest with
her, and
""
"I did not mean to flirt," he interrupts, not raising his
eyes to my face. "It was a blind for your husband. I
swear I never meant to come between her and Chris."
There is silence; and then I appeal to his better
nature.
(6
'You can do one thing yet. I think you owe some
reparation. Will you give your promise?'
"What is it?"
He certainly looks a wretched heart-broken man as
he speaks.
"Will you go away from Ripley?"
Steadily he looks into my eyes.
"You ask me a hard thing; but I will."
TH
CHAPTER XXXIII.
'HE rain has laid the yellow corn low, and beaten
it flat with a mighty rushing torrent; and in the
garden the roses lie bent and broken, their sweet faces
all wet and bedabbled with earth.
The world is smiling again in the sunshine after the
rain, and purple shadows are flitting over the changing
sea. I am sorry for the roses, and lift their bent bruised
heads tenderly. Yesterday they were opening to the
glowing sun, to-day they are drowned out of recognition,
and the blood-red petals strew the ground, and the
cream and golden beauties lie scattered on the earth.
Nothing lasts not even the roses I love so dearly.
I gather the few the rain has left, carry them into the
house, and fill a large old-fashioned china bowl with the
wet blossoms. Sweet and fragrant they are, and I bend
my face to inhale the delicious freshness. Can any one
feel quite miserable in the presence of flowers? I won-
der if there is any one on this earth to whom the scent
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MY MARRIAGE.
of roses brings no sweet memory, no softer, better feel-
ing when the dewy fragrant blossoms touch their lips.
I forget my roses in a moment when Felicia's voice
breaks the silence; and I turn to see her walking up
the room, traces of weeping about her eyes and a news-
paper in her hand.
Mrs. Carstairs, can I speak to you for a few mo
ments?"
She puts the question 'nervously, with a deprecating
look from her brown eyes; and I answer immediately --
"I am quite at your service, Felicia."
She looks down at the paper and then at me again.
"There is an advertisement here that would suit me,
and I think I ought to reply to it at once."
1
"Have you spoken to Mr. Carstairs about it?" I say
quietly; and the brown eyes look back gravely into
mine.
"No; I came to you first. I saw this only yesterday.
I think I should like the place; there is only one little
girl to teach, and it is in London, which would be con
venient to me if I mean to go on with my painting."
"Do you wish to leave us, Felicia?
"I have been very happy at Carstairs," she replies,
with quivering lips, "but I cannot live here always; I
must work for myself and be independent."
t
A slight flush rises to her cheeks; and I bend over
the roses again.
"I think, Felicia, before you decide about this, you
ought to consult my husband; he is your guardian,
you know."
She considers for a moment, and then speaks.
"Yes, I will go to him now, for I must write to-day
and answer this.'
I know not what arguments she uses to induce Hum-
phrey to consent to her plan; but at luncheon I hear
that it is all decided, and that Humphrey has written in
reply to the advertisement. Afterwards I say to him
speaking carelessly-
“Só Felicia has made up her mind to leave us ?”
MY MARRIAGE
273
Then I know that only by strong self-control has he
kept silence. I see the sudden flash in his gray eyes at
my words, and hear the anger in his voice yés, anger
to me his wife.
"Yes, she is going," he says, with bitter emphasis;
"and I never thought that want of hospitality on my
wife's part would have forced my old friend's sister to
leave my house, for she 'feels she is no longer welcome
beneath its roof."
Without another word he turns on his heel and walks
deliberately out of the room.
I have heard him out, and he never knows how every
word has cut like a knife; he only saw 'his wife listening
in silence to his words of wrath, bearing the withering
reproof without retort, as wives do sometimes.
silence I listened, because I'was too hurt to speak.
In
'It is 'because 'Felicia Grant is going away that he can-
not be kind and gentle 'to me any more, neither kind nor
just. 'And I love him; nothing can take the pleasure
of this bitter love of mine from me, the scant 'meagre
happiness of caring for my own husband, the bitter
sweetness of loving him, 'when his passionate love for
me faded, flickered, and went out long ago, 'when his
patience wearied, and he grew tired of trying to win the
heart of his child-wife, who perchance loved him all the
time, though verily she knew it not. Ah me, my heart
swells with a sense of the great misery and injustice of
it all! And yet there are no tears in my eyes, nothing
but a calm indifference, when a well-known 'step comes
up the room, and my husband's voice calls "Madgie !”
He has returned, most likely to see the effect of his
words. If so, he must be grievously disappointed. I
have not stirred since he left the foom'five minutes ago.
I am standing by the table, looking down at the roses I
have gathered this morning they are dewy and wet
still.
1
"Do you want me, Humphrey?" I say coldly; and
yet I cannot look into his face, and I tremble as his
hand rests on 'iny shoulder.
I
18
274
MY MARRIAGE.
"I came back," he says gently, "because I spoke
harshly to my wife. When I returned to my painting, I
thought it all over; and so I came back to her, because
I could not bear that we should not be good friends,
she and I. Look up, Madgie; let me see my wife's
eyes."
I do look up, but only for a moment; and there is no
penitence, I know, in the eyes that only half meet his.
"Do not distress yourself about me. Go back to
your painting and ""to Felicia" is in my heart and
almost on my lips; but pride forbids the words, and I
substitute another speech instead. "In what respect
have I failed in hospitality towards Miss Grant?"
He winces as I speak.
"You know best yourself, Madgie; and Felicia thinks
it better to go away, because she cannot fail to see
that you no longer desire her presence. I have felt
this more than I can say, and, if you resent my words
because they were severe, remember that it hurt me more
to speak than perhaps you to hear. Madgie, for Heav
en's sake, tell me what has come between us!"
He began calmly enough, but the last words seem
wrung from him; and I bend my face suddenly and
hide it in my hands.
"What is the use of speaking about it?" I cry
brokenly. "We have spoilt our lives, and nothing can
ever make any difference."
66
Nothing!" he echoes, with a long-drawn breath.
"Madgie, my poor little wife, it breaks my heart to
speak like this, to see you changing day by day. You
were a child when I married you a wilful wayward
child, but very loving and sweet withal. Ah, my dear,
the petulant girl-wife who sat on the hill-side and told
me with pouting lips I was not the sort of man she could
care for was easier to win than the wife I know now,
whose lips say bitter things and whose eyes
He
stops, and his voice trembles sadly. "I pray Heaven
to forgive our marriage. I did you a great wrong."
I raise my head and lift my eyes to his.
MY MARRIAGE.
275
"You know now that people cannot make their
hearts love whom they will."
"Heaven help me, I do!" he answers bitterly.
I know not the misconstruction he places on my
words, nor do I know why his face hardens suddenly
like flint and his voice sounds so strange when he
speaks.
"You might have spared me this."
As the words fall from his lips, I look long and stead-
ily into his eyes, and then go away silently. I do not
blame him. It is but weak human nature; but, oh, my
heart is very sore, and my head aches and throbs from
the torrent of unshed tears!
*
*
Out amongst the trampled corn, under the smiling
sky where rain and sunshine struggle for the mastery, it
is cool and sweet, and I can walk and think and won-
der how I shall live out all my life, the years and years
that Heaven may see fit to give me. I am alone to-
day. Lena is spending the afternoon at Ripley. Mrs.
Delacourt has taken a fancy to my bright pretty sister,
and likes to have Lena often with her, while she is
nothing loath to go to be petted and made much of
at Ripley, and be brought home generally by Chris
in the evening, who listens to Lena's chatter, but keeps
his longing eyes on Bee. Dear Bee is right; all love-
stories end unhappily! It were well to make every
book end miserably; we should expect nothing else in
real life then; for it is only in novels after all that it
comes all right in the last line of the last chapter of
the third volume.
The glowing poppies lie like a blood-red track, beaten
down by the rain, and the yellow corn lies in sodden
swathes. The cliff-path is wet and depressing, and my
dress is suffering from contact with soaking grass. The
sea is the brightest thing to-day-green and purple and
silver and there are foamy tops to the waves as the
clouds fly over the sky and lay fleeting shadows on the
swelling sea. My hat hangs in my hand, and the wind
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MY MARRIAGE.
tosses my hair and cools my forehead. By-and-by I
shall be better, and go home again, keeping all my
thoughts to myself, all the misery, all the pain; and I
shall smile and talk, and sing too, and only dream out
here of my sorrow, and tell it to my own heart to the
music of the sobbing waves and the wind that sighs over
the sea.
Somebody comes striding through the wet corn. I
turn and see Chris Delacourt — and yet not Chris him-
self. It is the same face, but changed and white, with
sternly-set lips and all the light gone from his blue eyes.
Chris is walking like a man who is trying to walk away
from himself. Blankly he looks at me, sees the wonder
and pity in my face, and up to the roots of his yellow
locks a crimson flush rises slowly.
“Don't you know?" he says; and no word of greet-
ing passes between us. "Can you not understand, Mrs.
Carstairs?"
In silence I look into the piteous troubled eyes, and
note the anguish that mars the comeliness of his face.
"Bee" half rises to my lips, but I say it not; and yet
he guesses what the half-formed word would have been.
Yes," he says he is calm and quiet now, but my
heart aches to see such signs of suffering on a man's
face, to see poor Chris with wet eyelashes, and to know
what he must have passed through. "She does not care
for me." The short simple sentence tells it all, and his
wistful smile brings the tears to my eyes. "I am not
bearing it very well, am I?" he adds gently. "I shall
fight it out by-and-by."
He goes away, with his fair head bent; and I, though
full of my own sorrow, sit down on the wet corn and cry
for Chris Delacourt poor Chris who has loved in vain!
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277
Down
CHAPTER XXXIV.
OWN on the shore, looking gravely out to sea, sits
Bee, a little pale and sad; her dark eyes are not
smiling to-day, but dreamily pathetic, I sit down on the
stones beside her, and, like her, gaze persistently out
towards the dark sea-line. We do not speak to each
other; after one look into Bee's face, I deem that silence
for the time is best.
Sisters do not always indulge in rapturous gushing con-
fidences. As a family, we were never given to telling
each other our inmost thoughts and feelings. Only now
and then, as it were, the veil was lifted, and for a second
we saw each other's hearts and read one page of the
soul's secrets. Bee and I made no confidences; when I
married, I told not even Bee the thoughts that I scarcely
dared breathe to my own soul. If I had spoken of it, Į
never could have married Humphrey. So now in silence
I sit beside her, stealing a glance now and then at her
pale unmoved profile. Her long lashes quiver suddenly,
and a tear one large bright tear rolls down her
cheek. She turns her face to mine, and I see two large
tear-filled eyes that brim up and overflow.
"I couldn't help it, Madgie," she says sorrowfully, in
a rather awe-stricken voice.
66
Oh, Bee," I return, “I am more sorry for this than
I can tell you!"
Then into her face comes the first shrinking look of
pain, the first sorrowful look that the world in time
brings to all of us.
"I couldn't help it," she repeats, twisting her hands
together; and then in a low tone-"Did you meẹt him,
Madgie?"
"Yes," I answer, looking into the piteous eyes.
The green waves come leaping in, curling and rushing
over the wet sand, and washing round the stones, and
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the white sea-gulls dip their wings into the shining water
as they fly past.
Bee speaks again with grave distress in her voice.
"I wish this had never happened - it makes me so
sorry; and, Madgie, I had no idea of it- not the
slightest."
66
I knew it, Bee, long ago."
"You don't think that I encouraged him?" she says,
the color rising to her cheeks. "Oh, Madgie, you don't
mean that?”
66
No, dear; I only meant that poor Chris fell in love
with you very soon, I think, after you came to Carstairs;
and, Bee, I wish you could have cared for him."
She turns away her face, and I can see only the out-
line of a crimson cheek. I say no more; full well I
know why Bee cannot care for Chris Delacourt. I may
regret the reason; but speaking of it will do no good.
(6
Felicia is going away," I remark presently, and then
more bitterly—"Humphrey and I have quarrelled about
it."
Bee speaks with her face still carefully averted.
"Did Humphrey want her to stay?
"He wanted to adopt her," I answer, and then laugh.
"Never marry, Bee; the best of husbands grow into
tyrants, and the sweetest of wives grow rebellious.
Chris might have beaten you if you had married him
and no man is worth caring about. Write a new novel,
Bee, and make the heroine a joyous, 'fast' old maid,
who kept her liberty and enjoyed her life in single
blessedness."
But Bee answers not. Her head sinks lower and
lower on her hands, and she is crying bitter passionate
tears, sobbing as if her heart would break. I wind my
arms tightly round her.
((
Bee, what is it? You must not cry like this, Bee
darling ! "
Dinner is over a long dismal meal. Humphrey
has reached the sullen bear-like stage, mingled with
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279
wistful looks. I have forgotten the few repentant mo-
ments that came to me, and a reaction has set in, which
reveals itself in studied politeness to Felicia. I keep
up a languid conversation, partly to show how indifferent
I am to Humphrey's displeasure this afternoon, and
partly to draw attention from Bee's pale cheeks and
heavy eyes. But we leave the dessert at last, and go
into the dimly-lighted drawing-room.
I cannot talk any more, and the minutes drag slowly
by. Lena is at Ripley still. I am wondering if Captain
Delacourt will bring her home to-night instead of Chris.
I do not know which would be worst; one I do not
want to see, the other well, poor Chris could hardly
face Bee to-night. I go to the piano and play soft
dreamy things. I cannot sing to-night, for, as the song
says
"Heart and voice would fail me,
And foolish tears would flow."
Lena comes in alone after all; and her bright smiling
presence seems to bring a fresh wholesome atmosphere
into the room.
"Chris brought me home," she begins cheerfully, in
blissful ignorance of what has happened, "and he is as
sulky as a bear. He hardly said a word all the way
from Ripley; and I could not persuade him to come
in. He is quite queer to-night."
This announcement is received in solemn silence. I
dare not look at Bee, and can only stare hopelessly at
Lena's face.
66
Something must have put him out dreadfully," she
goes on, every word as clear as a bell. "He took no
dinner, and disappeared immediately after. Captain
Delacourt seemed out of sorts too. He said he had
letters to write; and so Chris had to escort me, sorely
against his will"-laughing pleasantly.
You could not have had a very pleasant evening,"
I remark; and Lena laughs again.
“Oh, I didn't mind! It rather amused me. Cap-
tain Delacourt is going away for good- he told me so
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himself to-night; and he is just as much out of sorts
as Chris. Perhaps they have had a'quarrel."
'66
Perhaps they have," I say in desperation, looking
for one second at Bee, who has never spoken since
Lena 'came into the room; and in that one brief look I
see an expression coming into my sister's face which
inakes my heart ache. I know what Clive Delacourt is
to her now when I meet the wordless anguish in the
startled dark eyes; and 'I hate him with a hatred that
I never thought I could feel for mortal man.
Suddenly I see Lena looking from one to another
wonderingly.
Has anything happened?" she asks. You all
seem so strange to-night."
I look quickly at Bee, and meet an imploring, be-
seeching glance; so I say, with assumed carelessness
"How can you expect us to be cheerful, Lena?
We have been at home all day. I have a horrid head-
ache, 'too. I think we ought all to go to bed."
Lena looks puzzled still.
"Bee and Felicia can't have headaches. Bee looks
cross, and 'I am sure Felicia is only prétending to read.
Have you all been quarrelling? "
Felicia looks up from her book; and I feel thankful
that she has unconsciously come to the rescue.
"We have been very silent this evening; but quarrel-
ling is not the reason. I think we missed you, Lena.”
Lena gives her shoulders a little shrug.
"Where is Humphrey?"
"In the library, I suppose," I answer icily; and then
I wheel round on the music-stool and begin to play
again, for I cannot talk with Bee's face opposite to me
The harvest moon is rising in a cloudy sky, and shines
down in fitful radiance on sea and shore. I see it from
the window as I sit at the piano, and I am wondering
what Humphrey is doing, what he is thinking of by him-
self in the library. If I go out upon the terrace and
walk'round to the window where he is, I can see, and he
will not know of the eyes watching him.
-
*
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981
"Sing something, Lena," I say, and slip away during
the song out into the fleeting, changing moonlight, where
the air is fresh and chill, and a cool breeze comes sigh-
ing up from the sea.
With swift noiseless tread I pass. down the terrace,
and reach the library window. A long rose-branch,
torn down by the rain last night, trails across the glass
and taps with every breath of wind. Drawing back
the wet leaves, I press close, and gaze with longing
eyes into the room, and see Humphrey sitting alone,
his tall figure slightly drooping, his forehead on his
hand, and a weary, sad look on his face which was not
there a few months ago. He sits perfectly still, as if
completely lost in thought not even smoking-only
thinking. What are his thoughts? Long as I may,
with a great jealous yearning, I can never know, The
sad weariness of his face tells nothing but of a man to
whom this life has proved a disappointment. With a
sorrowful sort of interest I stand with my face pressed
against the cold glass and watch him intently, note the
light falling across his broad forehead, and lighting up
the fair hair, brushed carelessly back by his hand.
see that his stern rugged face is sterner and graver
than it used to be in the days when his wife was all in
all to him. Only a pane of glass between us, and yet
we seem farther separated than if the wide Atlantic
rolled between him and me!
"Humphrey," I say softly"my husband.!" the last
two words whispered with a tenderness that is new to my
lips.
He does not stir; and I take one long, long look, and
creep away again; and he will never know of the eyes
that were watching him to-night.
}
า
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C
CHAPTER XXXV.
'APTAIN DELACOURT has come over to say
good-by. Two minutes ago we saw the dog-cart
from Ripley go past the windows, Clive Delacourt driving.
Chris has not come with him; we have not seen him
since the day he strode through the soaked, down-trod-
den corn, white and miserable with the first great
trouble of his life.
Felicia and Lena are out walking, and Bee and I have
been alone since luncheon. Humphrey has taken steadily
to his painting again, and it is only at meal-times that
we meet now. Humphrey and I do not walk or drive
together as we used to do.
As Captain Delacourt is announced, I glance swiftly
at Bee; but her face is stony and hard. In one second
all the childish look has gone out of it, and I seem to
know that in all the years to come Bee will never be
quite the same again. For the first time in her life the
smile on my dear Bee's lips is forced; it is a smile
that touches the lips only, and leaves the eyes cold and
hard.
There is no welcome in voice or manner as I hold out
an icy hand to Clive Delacourt. I cannot pity him,
though he looks haggard and wretched, and not like the
smiling handsome man of not so long ago.
"I have come to say good-by; but I hardly expected
such a reception as this.'
"
He does not smile as he speaks, and, as our eyes meet,
I shiver and think of Bee, and not of him.
"When do you go?" I ask carelessly, ignoring the
passionate appeal of his voice and eyes.
He bites his lip, and there comes a look into his face
that is not pleasant to see.
"When do I go?" he repeats. "To-night. Where?
Heaven knows I don't; but remember
he drops
his voice, but Bee has gone to the other end of the room
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283
and cannot hear a word of our almost whispered con-
versation "remember, if you hear that Clive Delacourt
has gone to the bad, it will be your fault."
"No; it will be your own,” I answer coldly, not heed-
ing his words, but looking past him at that other figure
standing silent at the far end of the long room.
I can
only see the dark head a little bent, the curve of the
long white neck; but I can guess what is passing
through Bee's mind.
"How you hate me!"
His words recall me to myself, and I look into his
face with pitiless eyes that can have no pity for him.
“I could forgive all but that," comes from my lips in
a whisper.
He knows my meaning, and has the grace to blush
beneath the reproach in my face.
"You are hard, Mrs. Carstairs," he says. and then
more hurriedly - 'I am going away because you asked
me; for your sake I do this and you think it is easy
for me to go when
""
I raise my head, and there are a proud contempt and
a withering condemnation in the words I speak.
((
Captain Delacourt, I think it would be well for you
to go now; every word you utter is an insult to me.
You seem to forget
""
"That you are his wife. No, I am not likely to for-
get that!"
As the passionate words fall from his lips, the door
opens, and Humphrey himself comes in. I am glad he
has come, for his presence will be a sort of protection.
The two men talk with cold politeness on indifferent
subjects for a few minutes; and then Captain Dela-
court says he must go.
Bee turns round from the window, and when she
speaks her voice is as even as usual; there is not a
tremor in its smooth sweet tones. It is only a question
she puts to Humphrey, something about the picture he
is painting; but he goes over to where she is standing,
and I gaze at Bee with mingled pity and wonder. There
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is a quiet dignity in her attitude, a proud grace, that
makes her look at this moment a girl no longer, but a
beautiful woman, with the dignity and beauty of suffer-
ing on her pale marble-like face. She stands with her
back to the light, the sun shining through the window
making a dim glory on her dusky brown hair, her great
dark eyes quietly looking at Humphrey.
Clive Delacourt's face comes between me and her.
I felt that, while my eyes were fixed on Bee, he was
watching me intently; and now he speaks.
(6
How you love your sister! There are tears in your
eyes for her; I watched them coming. Now you must
not think what I am going to say conceited; but after I
leave Ripley-not immediately, but in time she will
marry Chris. Will you forgive me then?"
"Yes; but I never wish to see you again," I say
with bitter truthfulness; and I hear him catch his breath
suddenly.
"I must speak to you before I go-remember it is
for ever; it can do you no harm. Come into the con-
servatory for a second; I cannot go away like this-
come,'
"No. You shall say good-by here."
I hope it may never be my lot to see such a look in a
man's face again. I turn white and cold at his passion-
ately-whispered words.
"I would give all I possess to make you as miserable
as myself to make you feel a little of what I am en-
during now."
In another second Humphrey will see and hear, and
I do not choose that he should do either one or the
other. My old nature stands me in good stead now;
the little mocking laugh that falls from my lips comes
almost naturally, the scornful words come scarcely
less so.
Captain Delacourt, we are not on the stage. I think
you had better say good-by now."
My words have the desired effect. He is white with
passion; but he has come to his senses; and no casual
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285
observer would notice anything strange in his manner as
he walks quietly down the room, speaks a few words of
farewell, and holds Bee's hand in his for a second. › To
me it seems that the very touch of his fingers must be
contamination. Bee bears herself well; it is simply
"good-by,” nothing more; and then he has dropped hef
hand and it is all over.
2
I do not give him the chance for one other mad
whispered word.. Swiftly I come down to where those
three are grouped together, and stand beside my hus-
band, Captain Delacourt's eyes say, "You might have
trusted me." I think otherwise, and so stay by Hum-
phrey, and do not look at Bée.
Good-by," he says.
Our hands touch
then he is gone.
*
*
his fingers are cold as ice—and
Humphrey has returned to his painting again. I have
often wondered since why he came down at that particu-
lar moment, for it is not usually his habit to appear
when visitors are in the drawing-room. Bee sits and
looks at the door through which Captain Delacourt de-
parted five minutes ago, and on the threshold of which I
hope it will be long before his footsteps rest again.
We have not spoken since. I am supposed to be
working at some crochet affair, and mechanically the
pattern grows under my fingers. I look up to find Bee
beside me, a half-bitter smile on her face; she slips'
down upon the carpet at my feet, and rests her arms
on my knee.
"Madgie, I think I ought to go away from Car-
stairs."
Are you tired of it already?" I say; and then, as à
quiver of something more than pain sweeps across her
face, I bend over her and add, “ Bèe darling, I know all
about it; and, dear, he is not worthy of one thought.
Must I say more, Bee?"
L
Her head droops, and then she raises it again, and
the steady dark eyes look into minè.
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"I saw how it was to-day, Madgie. I should have
been blind if I could not have found out the truth
then."
The words are calm enough; but into the tearless
eyes there comes an agony of suffering, and the quiver-
ing lips are sad to see. Though I make myself small
in my sister's eyes, I must speak now, with the blushes
of shame rising to my cheeks.
(6
Bee, you must not care for him any more; he is not
worth it. Do you understand, dear? I was married; I
thought he was my friend; and I never dreamed that he
could mean anything else. I suppose we were more
innocent and knew less of the world than other girls;
and I never thought a man could make love to a married
woman. Bee darling, do not look like that; and you
must stay here, dear, for I am unhappy too; and you
and I were always together."
I break down, crying; and the tearless anguish in my
sister's face is more bitter than tears.
"C
""
Madgie -and her voice has a ring of horror in its
"is he nothing to you?"
tones
At that the tears seem to dry upon my scorching
cheeks, and stay unshed in the eyes that look straight
back into Bee's. It were well indeed to speak the truth
now.
"Did you think that of me, Bee? Did it come into
your heart that my trouble was in any way connected
with him? Listen-and it is only to myself that I have
ever said this before I love my husband; and it was
because of that perhaps that I did not deem it possible
there could be other love on earth.
I had better say
it
all now.
I believed Clive Delacourt cared for you until
the day of the party, when he went mad. It was then
that what he said frightened me, and I started back, and
lost my footing. Now you can understand it all. But
remember, Bee, that it is to be between us two; only you
and I are to know anything about it.”
"Yes."
Only one word; but I know that into her heart, like a
MY MARRIAGE.
287
knife, every word of mine has passed; and I put my
arms closely round her.
"Madgie, please let me go."
My fingers loose their hold, and I let her go. She
rises slowly to her feet, with a look on her face like that
of a person who has just heard some bad news, and,
beyond the numbing shock, cannot quite understand
yet, and quietly she goes out of the room, shutting the
door after her; and it seems as if a shadow has fallen
on our house.
Bee never speaks of this again; and I never quite
know what she passed through in the hours that followed.
By-and-by, when the shadows are deepening over land
and sea, I creep up-stairs to her room. The bed is
empty, but tossed and tumbled; and my heart aches to
think how, with her face buried in the pillow, she must
have wept the fountain of her tears dry, and fought with
the first great crushing trouble of her life.
There are no tears in her eyes now, only a great sor-
rowful quietness in her face, as she sits at the open win-
dow looking out at the shadowy sea. Clive Delacourt
is many miles away by this; would that he had left our
minds as quickly as he has left our sight!
A pile of burnt papers lies in the grate. Bee has been
burning her story. Clive Delacourt was the hero; and
I set my teeth when I think of what poor Bee must
have thought of him before she knew his true character
to-day.
"Don't pity me," is all she says, and then cries out
passionately, "Oh, Madgie, Madgie, I think the shame
of it will kill me to have loved a man unasked!
Was it unasked? Therein lies the wrong that I can
never forgive. Did he not woo and win her love in his
own easy fashion to blind Humphrey's eyes? Ah, he
might have spared himself that much wherein he sinned!
Humphrey cares not for his wife now; the days have
gone by for that.
With a piteous pleading look Bee raises her swollen
burning eyes to mine.
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it."
66
"
Do they know? Do they guess ?
"No, dear; I said you were not well, and they believe
She sighs a long heart-broken sigh.
Oh, Madgie, how shall I live?"
I hold her hand in mine and whisper
"Pray to Heaven, Bee, that you may forget.
*
}
Strangers yet." What possesses Lena to sing that
song to-night, when Humphrey and I are alone in the
drawing-room? Felicia Grant is up-stairs in her room
studying. Does she never tire of the toil of it, I won-
der? Bee is often absent from the room now, often
wandering by herself in the dim shaded garden; and I
let her be, for it is better so. And to-night, of all nights,
just as Humphrey comes into the room and, for a won-
der, seats himself on the sofa beside me, Lena begins
the sad sorrowful ballad that describes, after all, only
the end of all married lives, I feel sure.
“After years of life together,
After fair and stormy weather,
After all, strangers yet.”
It is dark, and I cannot see my husband's face, nor he
mine. He is leaning back, and, his arm lies along the
back of the sofa. I sit bolt upright, my hands in my
lap, my heart beating and thrilling at his presence, as it
never used to beat in the old days when he used to clasp
me close and kiss my reluctant lips.
I feel a hand steal across my lap and draw one of
mine into its keeping, where it flutters, trembles, and lies
still for a brief space.
666
Strangers yet' is it not so, my wife?"
"Yes," I whisper in the darkness, and the restless
hand in his starts and struggles again. It is released
instantly, and I snatch it back with a great lump rising
to my throat.
Verily we are strangers. I look at him in the dim
gloom and see the outline of the face that I love with the
MY MARRIAGE.
289
love of my life- the love that came against my will.
Though I fought against it long and sorely, yet it con-
quered me at last utterly and entirely. My hand lies
on my lap still; he does not attempt to take it again.
In my woman's weakness I move it a few inches in his
direction, where it stays for a second; but no loving fin-
gers accept my little overture, and I draw it back again,
with shame-crimsoned cheeks, proud and hurt.
Candles are brought into the room, the song is over,
and we are strangers still or "estranged" would per-
haps express it better. Truly a woman is happy until.
she knows what it is to love or to be beloved; then
come the fever and unrest, and all the yearning and
longing.
Bee steps in at the open window, out of the trailing
shadows of the night; her muslin dress is limp with dew,
her eyes are weary and sad. In my wrath and injustice
I could turn upon Humphrey and say, "This also is your
doing. If I had never married you, this would not have
happened." I do not say it with my lips; they smile and
laugh, for no one must guess why Bee's eyes are heavy
and sad, nor why her smiles are forced and her merry
nonsense is a thing of the past.
"I do not think Bee is well," Humphrey says to me.
"She is well enough," I reply. "The hot weather
has made her pale and languid - nothing more.'
But I watch her anxiously for all that; and suddenly
she overcomes the depression and comes amongst us
once more. But somehow to me her gayety is more sad-
dening than her silent moods; one is natural, the other
- her mad, wild spirits only hide the pain.
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|
SIR
CHAPTER XXXVI.
IR JASPER and Lady Vane are coming home; and
at the Abbey there are great preparations and
much bustle. A merry home-coming and a warm wel-
come may be expected; for Sir Jasper is a favorite with
his tenantry, and they contemplate bon-fires and tri-
umphal arches to welcome him and his bride home.
Chris Delacourt comes over to tell us the news. Poor
fellow, he turns scarlet when he sees Bee; and she grows
white as their hands meet, for they cannot but remember
how they last met. Chris, trying to be at his ease, talks
fast and furiously of all the doings at the Abbey, and
of the gay times we may expect when Georgie is home
again; and he laughs often. But his merriment is not
natural to-day, and his blue eyes have a troubled look
in them. Bee, woman-like, recovers her self-possession
first; and to this man who loves and worships her she
speaks with a sort of gentle wistfulness, as though she
had done him a wrong and was anxious to atone.
Chris does not stay long. I think the presence of the
woman he loves still, though it be hopelessly, makes poor
Chris not quite himself to-day.
"You will come again?" I say, as he stands, tall and
straight, before me, with a pained look on his face, and
his mouth now grave and now smiling beneath his blond
mustache. I do not admire fair men.; but there is some-
thing very attractive in this Saxon beauty of his, the sun-
burnt manly face, with the violet eyes and fleecy yellow
locks; and I feel wondrous sorry to see his handsome
features clouded and unhappy. So, as he wrings my
hand hard, I say, "You will come again?"
"Yes," he answers gravely, "I will come."
I
Not once has he mentioned his brother's name.
think he guesses partly why Bee could not care for him.
But Bee is only a child, and first love is not always the
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291
real love after all. So I tell Chris to come ;
heart I hope he will not come in vain.
*
*
*
and in my
*
Felicia Grant has gone; she left a week ago; and
Humphrey has not mentioned her name since. She has
written once to me and three times to her guardian. I
make no comment; but one morning, when Humphrey
passes me one of the closely-written sheets to read, I
say
"I do not care to see it ;" and he never offers me
any of Felicia Grant's letters again.
The mystery about Mr. Carrington has never been
cleared up; if Humphrey knows the secret, he does not
throw any light on the subject as far as I am concerned,
and I do not ask him anything about it.
The morning Felicia was going she came to me with
her face unnaturally pale and her eyes wet and tearful.
It was to make me promise never to mention her name
to Mark Carrington if we should ever meet him again.
So I promised, and she thanked me with the tears run-
ning down her face. Felicia is to spend all her holidays
with us; and the invitation is mine, not Humphrey's.
"I was going to suggest it to you, Madgie," he said;
“but I am glad it came from yourself.”
My answer wronged him and wronged myself —
"I but made a virtue of necessity."
He said nothing then, and has made no comment
since.
There is but one easel in the painting-room now
where Humphrey spends so many hours of the day. I
never go there, except when he has done his work for
the day and gone out by himself; then I flit in through
the doorway and stand before his picture, watching it
grow day by day till I get to love it with a great tender-
ness; for is it not his work? Did not his brain conceive
it, and his hand carry out the plan? The subject of
the picture suits my thoughts well-"Storm-Driven."
I see before me a wide sea, with the wind tearing the
tops from the waves, and sending the foam against a
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gray leaden sky; a mountain, with masses of vapor roll-
ing down its sides; and through the mist, out on the
awful sea, just seen in a bar of light where the wind has
rent the clouds, a yacht, with white sails all torn, bent
and stricken, the sport of the tempest, flying before the
wind, and being carried on towards the jagged rocks that
seem to await their prey. It is a strange picture, all
lights and deep weird shadows, with a terrifying sense
of doom, the end that is coming to the tiny craft, with
her white wings rent and torn.
I watch this picture growing day by day; and Hum-
phrey never knows how his wife sits and dreams many
a long hour away, storm-tossed and miserable herself,
more unhappy now than in the days when she awoke to
find her marriage was a mistake. Ah me, many a time
it seems that the mist from the mountain in Humphrey's
picture is indeed rolling across the sea and blotting out
the frail yacht! It is only the blinding tears that fill
my eyes, storm-driven with shipwrecked happiness and
saddened heart. Humphrey never knows that I come
here every afternoon, nor what a strange fascination his
work has for me, until one day I come to find the easel
empty and the picture gone; and I feel as if I had lost
a friend's face from an accustomed spot. The picture
was here last night in its old place on the easel, the last
touches had been put, the picture finished and to-day
it is gone. I sit down and cry bitterly-cry as if I had
lost a friend.
"Madgie, why is this?" I hear my husband say; and
I answer, sobbing -
"The picture what have you done with it?”
"What picture?"-in a slightly surprised tone; and
then, as if a light had dawned on him
"Was it my
picture, Madgie?"—in a low soft voice of quick, almost
pleased, surprise; and I feel his fingers lightly touch my
hair.
""
"Yes," I answer
"I answer; "I loved it so, and now it is gone!'
looking up with the tears in my eyes to see a strange
wondrous light in his.
-
1
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MY MARRIAGE.
:
"And why did you love the picture, my child?”:
"Because you painted it," would have been the true
answer, straight from the heart; but pain, doubt, and
mystery fill my mind, and send this new-born sympathy
surging back with a chill of bitter disappointment, and I
evade the question and ask another.
"Where is it, Humphrey?"
"On its way to London. I wish, Madgie, I had
known you cared about it. I would have given you the
picture with pleasure."
There is a diffidence in his manner which does not
escape me.
"Why did you send it to London, Humphrey?"
•
"To be sold. I am painting now for an object,
Madgie."
I jump to a conclusion immediately.
"Are we living beyond our means?" I say quickly,
turning scarlet as I speak. "Humphrey, have I been
extravagant?"
Something of his old smile, half loving, half quizzi-
cal, lights up his face.
"You extravagant? I do not think I can accuse you
of that, Madgie; but I am going to sell my pictures, for
all that."
"Why?"— looking back and up at him, as he stands
behind my chair. "Tell me, Humphrey.
Slowly the dusky red mounts to his forehead.
My wife ought to be in my confidence.
sell my pictures for Felicia."
I mean to
As the last word leaves his lips, I am as if suddenly
turned to stone. One word a woman's name has
made all the difference; and if I were to die I could
not speak. Blankly I gaze at the empty easel, and,
hardening my heart, hear Humphrey's voice still speak-
ing.
"You see, Madgie, I feel as if the debt of gratitude I
ɔwe to my friend Grant might in some measure be repaid
to his sister. She is very poor · poor Grant left her liter-
ally nothing—and Felicia is dependent on her own
L
294
MY MARRIAGE.
1
efforts. I do not mean her to know that it is I who do
this; and I like to think that I am not wasting all the
hours I spend here.”
He stops.
was choking.
I must say something; and I feel as if I
"I am sure your charity will be appreciated," I say in
hard measured tones; "though I think it is a pity that
Felicia should not be allowed the gratification of thank-
ing the donor."
My child, my child, why are you so hard, so unrea-
sonable?"
There is grieved surprise and reproof in his voice;
but I am blind and deaf to reason. The picture I loved
because of the hand that worked at it day after day, was
painted for Felicia; it was of her he was thinking, and
never a thought of loving tenderness for me filled his
heart all the long hours he worked with his brush.
He misconstrues the cold silence that falls upon me.
"I will telegraph for the picture, Madgie, and get it
back again for you. I had no idea you had even seen it."
"No, thank you; I do not care about it. I like sea-
pieces that is all."
"I will paint you another then, and you shall choose
any subject you please," he says quickly; but I turn
away.
"}
"I would rather you did not take the trouble. It was
only a fancy; and I don't want to have a picture now.'
So I leave him, and come no more to see the work
upon his easel.
"S°
CHAPTER XXXVII.
you won't come visiting, Bee?"
No, Madgie. You know I always dislike talk-
ing to people; and I would much rather stay at hoine.
It is not her real reason, I know; but we are going tʊ
MY MARRIAGE.
295
Ripley, and Chris Delacourt may be at home. Bee has
avoided him of late, and Chris is holding himself aloof.
"You will come then, Lena?" I say, turning to my.
other sister, who is standing on the hearth-rug surveying
her face in the glass, and apparently greatly pleased at
the contemplation thereof.
Lena flies off joyfully to dress, and I follow more
leisurely, pausing at the door to look back at Bee.
"I wish you would come," I urge. "It is very bad
for you to be always staying at home. I shall give a
great dinner-party to rouse you up, Bee.”
"I don't want rousing," she answers, flushing. "I
think I shall go for a long walk this afternoon."
"Or a ride," I suggest. "It would be a charity to
take the Ranger out; he has been doing nothing for.
ever so long."
"Oh, yes; I should like a ride!" she assents, her eyes
brightening.
And so it is settled; and no warning comes, no pre-
sentiment, as I give the order for the Ranger to be
saddled. I see Bee standing before me in the flush of
life and health, and dream not of what a few hours
will bring forth.
*
*
*
We are home again, Lena and I; but Bee has not
returned yet. The yellow light falls on the grass out-
side, and changes the flowers into flaming masses of
color. Lena has gone in, and I am walking slowly up
and down the wide terrace, looking over the trees at the
strip of silver that marks the sea. I am not thinking of
Bee, but rather letting my whole thoughts dwell upon
Humphrey.
Did my husband ever really care for me, or was it
only a fancy because of the beauty of a girl's face, be-
cause a pair of blue eyes charmed him for a time? Car-
riages and horses, good clothes, plenty of servants, and
all the good things money brings, do not give me much
pleasure after all. I am used to it all now, and have
almost forgotten what the constant sense of poverty felt
206
MY MARRIAGE.
like, the pinching and saving, the never-ending struggle
to get on. We were very happy and contented through
it all. I am neither the one nor the other now.
I pass the open dining-room windows, and see the
dinner-table laid with fruit and flowers as our dinner-
table never was at home. That scrambling untidy meal
might have impaired many a digestion; it had no effect.
on ours. The quiet and comfort of Carstairs present a
vast and mighty difference. I like to have everything
in good form; but I wish that, when I sit at the head of
my table, I could feel some of the cheerful light-hearted
ness of the old life. If I could ignore that grave face
that I see opposite to me day after day, if he was nothing
to me, as he was at first, how different it would be!
And yet would I make him nothing to me now if I
could?
•
I step in at the open window, pass through the dining-
room, and into the hall. Bee has not come home yet.
Even as that thought passes through my mind, another
comes swiftly and suddenly, which turns my first thought
into bitter irony. Bee has not come home, because they
are bringing her.
,
}
I see the open door, and Chris Delacourt, with a
strange awful look upon his face, carrying something in
his arms
a long black figure, drooping as in life Bee
never drooped, with head hanging back, and the sharp
outline of throat and chin upturned. I suppose I have
strong nerves. I know Bee is dead she could not
look like that if she was alive-and yet I do not
scream; I only come slowly forward, looking up at the
agony in Chris Delacourt's eyes and holding out my
arms.
"Give her to me."
I
“You could not carry her," he whispers in a hoarse
grating tone. Oh, Heaven, she cannot be dead!
66
Dead! The thought is put into words, and I shrink
with a sudden realization of what has happened.
“Carry her up-stairs," I say breathlessly, shivering
and trembling, not looking at the marble stillness of the
upturned face.
MY MÁRRIAGE.
297
……
"I have sent for the doctor," he says hastily.
And then Humphrey comes in white and shocked
but he says no word he only looks at me; and be-
tween them they carry the still quiet figure, all silent and
resistless, up the stairs, and lay her on her bed.
"I am going for the doctor," Humphrey says, and
holds my hand for a second. "Be brave now; Bee's
life depends upon it. Get her undressed, Madgie, and
I will send Mrs. Steele to you."
Chris stands for a minute, his face wild with misery...
"It was my fault!" he cries, with great bitterness,
and then goes away.
I am alone with this that they tell me is Bee - Bee
who never fainted in her life, lying with a face of death
half turned towards me as they laid her on the pillow.
Dry-eyed, with a grief and terror that know no words, I
raise her in my arms, and with my own hands undress
her, the heavy head lying on my shoulder, the limp cold
hands making no response to my caresses.
Mrs. Steele comes hurrying in in a flood of tears. Ï
have not shed a tear in the presence of this strange still
figure; tears seem to have no place. In bed Bee looks
as if she might be asleep, except for a bluish tinge about
the face- it looks strangely like sleep. The long
lashes rest upon the cheek, and the sweet firm lips are
gravely closed.
"Here is where she is hurt, ma'am," sobs Mrs. Steele,
pointing to a dark red stain in Bee's brown hair, a small
spot of blood. "Oh, ma'am, my dear lady, don't you
look like that! Miss Bee is only stunned; and the
master has gone himself for the doctor. Heaven is
good; she will be spared."
I cannot pray; words will not come; my eyes are on
the stillness of the quiet face, watching for a sign or
quiver of life. And Lena-I have forgotten Lena-
no one has told her.
Presently I hear her clear voice singing, coming
nearer and nearer,and then her foot-fall sounds outside
the half-open door.
;
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MY MARRIAGE.
MY
"You tell her," I gasp, turning to Mrs. Steele.
The song stops suddenly. I hear hurried voices, and
then a burst of frightened crying, and Lena comes in,
wild and scared.
""
Madgie, Madgie, is it true?" she cries.
One look at Bee's face is answer enough. She turns
away and covers her face-poor little Lena! — shaking
and sobbing like a terrified child.
I hear the sound of a carriage driving furiously, and
then hurried footsteps. The doctor has come.
BE
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
EE lives; or rather she is still alive. It is but scant
comfort after the weary agony of suspense,
the
waiting for the doctor's verdict. She lives, but he will
hold out no hopes. While there is life there is hope;
and while hope exists there is yet something to be
done. It is when hope dies and there is nothing
more to look for that the human heart and brain
give way.
"I have telegraphed for more advice," Humphrey
says; and for a moment I rest passively in the arms that
close around me. "My poor little darling, this is hard
for you! I know how you love Bee."
Even now I do not cry; I only look up sorrowfully at
Humphrey with an awful fear knocking at my heart.
"She must live !" I moan.
will die!"
"It cannot be that Bee
"Heaven grant not!" he whispers.
"My child, how
you tremble! Madgie, will you go to the library and
tell poor Chris what Dr. Marsh says?
is in a dreadful state!"
Poor fellow, he
Humphrey is right. I know why he wished me to go
when I find that speaking the words of hope to Chris
MY MARRIAGE.
299
Delacourt strengthens the hope in my own mind. I know,
when I open the library door and see his face, that
Chris loves Bee with his whole heart. For the last hour
he has been here, walking up and down like a man half
out of his mind; and he stands before me now white
and haggard.
"Tell me at once!
Is she dead?" he cries in low and
broken tones, as if speech filled up the measure of
anguish of his soul.
"She lives!
}
There is hope!'
""
At my words, as the sense of them reaches his brain,
he reels, and, staggering to a chair, breaks down, sob-
bing. It is but the effect of the reaction after the sus-
pense. He is not ashamed of this exhibition of weak-
ness. It is no shame to his manhood to shed tears
because the woman he loves lies between life and death
only a very short step between.
The light falls upon his bowed head, and his yellow
hair gleams like gold. I see his broad shoulders heav-
ing. He is sobbing bitterly; and I have not shed one
tear yet. Perchance I may have all the rest of my life
to weep for the sorrow that is so near to-night. Poor
Chris raises his wet disfigured face at last.
"It was my fault that the accident happened."
"Was she thrown?" I ask for I do not know yet
what happened. "Tell me, please."
Chris shades his eyes, and speaks in a low choking
voice.
"You know that road leading from the Abbey, with
the paling on one side? I was driving home, and saw
her in front on the Ranger. I suppose she knew I was
coming, and did not want to meet me; for I saw her
look round, and then put the horse at the paling. He
refused the jump, swerved suddenly, and she was thrown.
She never spoke nor moved; and I drove here as fast as
possible."
He is greatly distressed as he tells his story; and my
eyes fill suddenly.
"It was not your fault. It was an accident," I say
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MY MARRIAGE.
gently. “And you must not fret so terribly. You are
making me break down. Humphrey has telegraphed
for another doctor. I wonder how soon he can be here?"
Chris rouses himself to think of times and trains.
And then I insist on his going to the dining-room and
taking something to eat; and I send for Lena, who
comes with her eyes swollen with crying.
"I must go to Bee," I say. "Mr. Delacourt, make
Lena eat something; and please look after yourself. I
think I will say 'Good-night,' now, for I am going to sit
up with Bee."
A hand touches my shoulder.
"You are not to sit up till you take this."
Humphrey is inexorable.. I feel as if I was choking;
but I swallow the soup and wine he brings me, and go
up to the quiet room where Dr. Marsh is waiting and
watching for my sister's closed eyes to open.
The long weary night gives place to dawn, and Bee
lives still. All the time I have sat and watched; and
at last the dark fringe quivers on her cheek, and I see
the eyes I love glimmering for a moment, before the
white lids shroud them again from my sight. But she
lives, though sorely bruised and shaken. There is hope.
The life struggles, flickers, wanes, and leaps up again;
and still there is hope.
Humphrey steals in now and then, and stands beside
me, gravely anxious. I see tears in his eyes once; and
then I lay my cheek upon his hand.
"You are sorry for Bee, Humphrey ?
These are almost the only words I have spoken the
long night through.
"Sorry for Bee," he whispers, "for her own sake, and
full of sorrow that I cannot lighten this trouble for you:
Poor little white weary wife!"
"You are helping me," I return softly; and my lips
lightly touch his broad hand.
"You have seen to every-
thing, Humphrey; and I am grateful, very grateful."
I can hear himn sigh, a long deep sigh, and it frightens
me directly.
J
MY MARRIAGE.
301
"Is Bee worse?" I ask in a low tone, in quick fear,
looking towards the outline of her white face in the gray
dawn. "Why do you sigh like that, Humphrey?
""
He does not answer; and long after I know the
thoughts that brought that sigh to his lips.
*
*
*
*
Given back from the grave! The long horrible dream
is over; and Bee, the very ghost and shadow of herself,
is restored to us. With all her wealth of dusky hair cut
off, and her face a mere wreck of merry laughing Bee,
she creeps back into life again. It has been a sore
struggle; but the strong young nature has triumphed at
last; and back from the Valley of the Shadow of Death
our darling has come to us. The life we have prayed
for has been granted; and there are light and reason in
the sweet serious eyes again. Like a snow-white lily
she lies ; and we hardly dare breathe to ourselves yet the
glad truth that the danger is past, that our prayers have
been answered. Heaven alone knows with what passion-
ate pleading I prayed for Bee's life-prayed that this
one thing might be granted me, this dear life spared.
Night and day I have nursed her; I will not trust my
darling to other hands than mine.
"You must take rest," Humphrey says often, with
grave earnestness. "Madgie, you will be ill."
And many an hour in the night he sits and watches,
while I lie on the sofa and sleep, from very weariness
and exhaustion, against my will; but the rest does me
good.
•
>
Poor Chris haunts the place, gray with anxiety. Every..
hour he is waiting for news, with his blue eyes full of
misery and his fair comeliness wasted with grief. His
face looks quite thin and sharp now. Lena comes to
the conclusion that he must be in love with Bee; and
I do not contradict her I only smile a dreary little
smile, knowing what I know.
Hollow-cheeked and wan, with great weary eyes,
Bee lies back on the pillows, with the autumn sunshine
falling across her white wasted hands.
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MY MARRIAGE.
"Who sent them, Madgie?"
"Guess, darling"-looking at her white fingers stray-
ing over the flowers held in her weak clasp, lovely hot-
house flowers; and on the little table by the bed lies a
small basket, and peeping from the cool green leaves
is a great bunch of purple grapes.
Bee looks lovingly at the flowers and smiles; and with
dim eyes
I watch the sweet lips, the lips that at one time
I thought would never smile again.
"Was it Georgie?"-for Sir Jasper and Lady Vane
are home again. But it was not from the Abbey the
flowers came.
"Can you not guess, Bee? Can you not think of
some one who has been here day after day—somebody
who has never smiled since you have been ill? Won't
you send him a message, darling?"
The thin fingers loose their clasp of Chris Delacourt's
flowers, and a quick pained flush rises to her cheek.
"Has he not forgotten yet?" she says in a low whis-
per; "Madgie, I think it would have been better if I
had died." And then as I stroke her hand lovingly she
speaks again. "Tell him not to be unhappy for me;
and and I thank him for the flowers."
Word for word I give Chris her message; and, for the
first time since he carried her up the stairs as dead in
his arms, a light comes into his face.
66
"You have made me quite happy," he says and smiles
brightly. But, Mrs. Carstairs, I did not mean you to
tell her it was I who sent her the flowers. I will bring
her some more now, and she may accept them from me
as a friend."
So wistfully he says the last word that my heart aches
for him. This strong loyal love of his deserves some-
thing more than friendship.
You are looking ill yourself, Mrs. Carstairs. This
nurse-tending is knocking you up. You should go out
into the open air, and let Miss Lena take your place
sometimes."'
"So my husband says; but I am quite well really."
He shakes his head.
MY MARRIAGE.
303
"Your looks say the contrary. Do you know that
Clive called you the rose of Carstairs? I think he might
christen you the lily now."
At the mere mention of Clive Delacourt's name a rush
of painful recollections brings the hot blood to my face.
and I hastily change the subject.
*
*
*
*
One morning a letter comes from my old friend Colo-
nel Trevannion a letter to say that he is on his way
to Carstairs to see Bee and judge for himself. He will
be here to-night, and I go to Bee with the news.
"The dear old Colonel is coming; he will be here
for dinner," I say; "so you must look your best, Bee,
that he may not think we have been sending false reports
home."
"I am so glad, Madgie; and don't you think I might
get up to-day? I feel quite strong."
But I tell her she is not to get up till she has drunk a
few more gallons of beef-tea. Bee laughs. It is good
even to hear her weak little laugh.
"I ought to be strong, Madgie; I take so many good
things."
Wan and great-eyed she is still, with her short-cropped
hair lying in little waves and rings on her forehead.
The eyes are, after all, the only thing that reminds one
of Bee as she was in the old days.
Humphrey and I have slipped into a sort of polite
indifference. I avoid him, and become shy when by any
chance we are alone together; and, now that Bee is
better, he is taken up with art again, working for Felicia
- and therein lies the sting. I never look at his work
now, and he never asks me to come and sit with him.
It is Bee now, all Bee; and I hardly ever leave her
room.
66
"Doesn't Humphrey want you?" she asks one day.
Madgie, if I was married, I should not like to see so
little of my husband."
I sigh for answer and then try to laugh away the
sigh.
1
304
MY MARRIAGE.
"You want me more than Humphrey. And now, Bee,
how shall we amuse the Colonel while he is at Car-
stairs?"
I think I never really know what it is to be a wife,
and yet have no place in my husband's heart, till I see
Georgie and her husband together.
The one difference of their life seems to have been set-
tled for ever, since the day on which they told the truth
one to the other in the presence of death. Georgie gives
in to him with a pretty submission, but I think in most
things "my lady" has her own way; and Sir Jasper
seems to be making up for all the coldness and estrange-
ment of those two unhappy years.
COLO
CHAPTER XXXIX.
OLONEL TREVANNION has been with us for a
week. The dear old man is the same as ever;
the very sight of him brings me back to the old days
when I was his pet, his little madcap. He is the same,
but I am different. Not once have I been ten minutes
alone with him, not once have I reverted to the conver-
sation we had together, he and I. The promise I made
-how have I kept it? Will he interrogate me, I won-
der, and look at me as he used to do, till I tell him
everything against my will?
We are holding quite a festival at Carstairs to-night.
Bee is down for the first time, lying on a sofa, and look-
ing a very ghost-like resemblance of her old self; but
our hearts are full to see her amongst us again. Hum-
phrey carried her down—he would not let her attempt
to walk and we have been gathered round, worship-
ping this pale shadowy Bee ever since. Lena has been
singing, and we are all quietly happy, when the door opens
and Chris Delacourt comes in, a bunch of red and yel
MY MARRIAGE.
305
"
low roses in his hand. At sight of Bee he turns deathly
white. Humphrey makes way for him as he comes up
to the sofa and stands looking down at Bee, whose thin
face is in a flame. Chris cannot speak for a few mo-
ments, and the hand that closes over Bee's white thin
fingers trembles visibly.
"I am glad to see you down again," he manages to
say at last.
It is a poor little stilted speech; but surely his eyes
tell her more than that, as he stands gazing down at
her as if he would never look away again. Then he lays
the roses beside her and turns to the rest of us. I watch
Bee take up the flowers sadly one by one and lift them
to her face; and, when I look at her again, I see a bright
drop upon her cheek.
"You will get strong now," Chris says presently,
speaking softly, his face very pitiful and earnest; and
then half shyly Bee thanks him for his offering of flowers,
and Chris Delacourt's fair head bends low over the hand
he holds.
"I want no thanks; it was enough that you accepted
the flowers."
*
*
*
"Well, madcap, are you going to avoid me all the
time I am here? For, if so, I think I had better go
away again."
I am fairly caught at last in the avenue, under the
falling yellow leaves; and I look up quickly and fright-
ened into Colonel Trevannion's face.
"How have I avoided you?" I say, looking round
desperately, in the hope of Lena appearing.
"Never mind how," he replies. "You know it very
well yourself, Madgie; and I am sorry I came to see you
in your home.”
Why?" -- with a sudden tremulousness of voice.
•
In silence he walks beside me, and we pass from the
avenue and move under the trees.
"Because I had thought to find matters very different
at Carstairs," he answers, after a long pause.
Are you
"6
20
3་ཚོ
MY MARRIAGE.
angry with me, child, for speaking so plainly? Don't
you know that your old friend means well?"
"Yes," I falter, looking down at the withered leaves
at my leet.
I will not say what I expected to find. What I did
find was a silent, sed husband, a hard, unrelenting wife ;
and even my other friend, Bee, is not what she was when
she left home. She has a sweetheart now, poor child
two or three of th m, for all I know. Is this a true
picture, Madgie?'”
"I don't know," I say wearily. "I wish Bee was
happy; I don't care about myself."
"Nonsense!" he exclaims sharply. "A child like
you to talk like that And don't fret about Bee. She
will marry that yellow-haired young fellow, and be
happy enough; but you, my child, what of yourself?"
I raise my face then with a bitter smile.
"
Madcap Madgie has turned out badly, has she not?"
"It is her own fault," he answers, shaking his head
"all her own fault; he married a man who worshipped
her, and it rests with herself to be happy or not."
Let him think so if he will. I bite my lip and say
nothing. Better let him think an,thing than know the
truth.
"Madcap, madcap, is there one scrap of your old self
left?" he says sadly.
"No, I am utterly changed," I answer, with a short
miserable laugh, "in dress, looks, inanners. Money has
done all this. Oh, it is a great thing to marry a rich
man, I can assure you!
A shower of brown leaves flutter down upon us as I
speak, and the soft wind blows them rustling past.
"The love of money is the root of all evil.' I never
believed that until now," is all the comment he makes
on my mad words; and then he speaks again. "The
other day I heard a man speaking of a friend of mine.
I did not believe him; I should have liked to dash his
words back down his throat; but I am glad I did not do
so now, for I am afraid what he said was true.”
MY MARRIAGE.
307
4
He means something; I know the Colonel's ways of
old, and I look up quickly into the grave iron-gray face.
But he goes on, speaking as if he was telling a story,
looking straight in front of him, out between the stems
of the trees.
"It was in the train; and they were talking about her.
I did not know at first that they were speaking of my
friend, nor did I imagine it possible that it could be so.
One was an old man with an eye-glass, and the other
two were young. They all seemed to know this lady
very well; and they spoke of her beauty, her charm of
manner, and her many attractions, also of her marriage;
and one said
"She married him for his money, and why on earth
should she not spend it?'
"And flirt too if she likes,' another said. 'Is he
jealous, do you know?'
"Then the old man broke in.
"And why should she not flirt and break men's
hearts? She is the most beautiful woman I have ever
seen, and she cannot help men making love to her. All
the county is raving about the lovely Mrs. Carstairs!'"
Quietly I listen to every word.
"It was Sir Joshua Grantley," I say. "I am glad to
hear that he has such a good opinion of me.
""
The grand old face looking down at me is full of
trouble. The Colonel sees only a bitter carelessness
of the world's opinion in the eyes of the woman whose
beauty has been the curse of her life. He sees not a
woman's passionate heart throbbing madly at the injus-
tice of it all. And, when he speaks next, I know how
firmly he believes every word spoken by those men.
I wish I had never come to Carstairs, to see the
child madcap I used to love grown into a woman of the
world. You were far more lovable in the cotton frocks
of those days than you are now, dressed like a woman
of fashion; and perhaps I am old-fashioned
your
face also contained more of beauty then, before men
praised it, and taught you to forget your husband."
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MY MARRIAGE.
Ah, surely poor madcap Madgie never looked so
utterly despairing, so sadly reproachful, as Madgie Car-
stairs does now, looking into the kind stern face of the
man who has known her since a child, with her eyes well-
ing up with tears.
"You have condemned me, and I have not said one
word in my defence. Some day I will tell you all the
truth but not now."
"Some day. When will that day come, Madgie?'
"When I am dying," I answer with a burst of bitter
weeping"If I die before Humphrey. And then you
will see that poor madcap was not all to blame, and you
will be sorry to have thought so badly of her."
How I should have laughed long ago if I had been
told that I should be planning death-bed meetings with
the old Colonel that I should be counting on going
before him, in my life and health and strength! It does
not seem ridiculous now; when the heart is sad and sore,
death or the idea of it comes naturally enough.
Colonel Trevannion does not laugh at my suggestion,
he only says cheerfully-
"It will come all right before that, my child."
"It can never come right," I answer dismally. "And,
oh, please do not speak about it any more!"
As
Only one more word do I say upon the subject.
we get back to the house I slip my hand within his arm,
as I used to do long ago when my small fingers could
just reach up to his sleeve.
"Colonel Trevannion, you must not say anything.
about all this at home - promise?"
"Do you believe in promises, Madgie? I remember
a promise made to me once; and how has it been
kept?"
"That also I will tell you some day," I whisper with
crimsoning cheeks.
We are at cross-purposes, my old friend and I ; and I
may not tell him the truth. In his heart he blames me,
and so goes away from Carstairs blaming me still.
MY MARRIAGE.
300%
It is November, and Bee and Lena are with us still!
Bee is well and strong again, and her short locks curl
round almost the old merry laughing face. And she has
taken to writing again a story that is to end well, she
says. She has ridden the Ranger again too, and comes
home with bright cheeks and laughing eyes, with Chris
Delacourt beside her; and those two seem fast friends
now.
There is a ball at the Abbey to-night, the first Georgie
has given since her return home; and the neighborhood
has been in a state of pleasant excitement for weeks.
Sir Jasper and Lady Vane are very popular; and there
is a delightful rumor of Christmas festivities at the
Abbey, and the house being filled with guests.
"The girls must stay for the Christmas gayeties,"
Humphrey says. "Don't let them go, Madgie. Felicia
will be here too.'
The first part of his speech softens me; but the end
of it turns me hard and cold.
"We must be gay too, and fill Carstairs," I answer.
"Life would be unendurable here another winter with-
out some amusement."
•
So I draw up a programme of festivities that will last
till long over Christmas; and there is no talk of any-
thing but amusement.
We are all dressed for the Abbey ball, waiting for the
carriage. Lena, toasting her toes on the fender, turns
her bright smiling face half round.
"Sir Jasper said my Dragoon is to be at the ball.
Dear man, I am longing to see him again!"
"Don't flirt, Lena," I say, laughing. "I think you
both do me great credit to-night"looking in high de-
light from one sister to the other.
White silk and foamy tulle suit them well, with strings
of pearls on their necks and arms, and twisted in Lena's
shining tresses and Bee's short brown locks. Bee's
radiant eyes smile brightly.
"I have never seen you look so well yourself, Madgie."
"Do I do credit to the Carstairs diamonds?" I say,
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MY MARRIAGE.
glancing at the mirror, to see myself flashing with dia-
monds, gleaming and sparkling.
I am in black to-night, black net, and the diamonds
alone light up my sombre costume.
Humphrey comes into the room, and I sweep him a
low curtsey.
"Are you proud of your wife to-night, Humphrey?"
with a swift upward glance into his eyes.
"She is very lovely," he answers sadly and softly, as
if he were talking of the dead. "The carriage is at
the door. Are you ready, Madgie?" he says immedi-
ately afterwards.
There are times in our lives when an impulse, strange,
sudden and irresistible, comes to us; be it for good or
evil, it comes, and we act upon it. Bee and Lena have
gone into the hall. I lay my hand with a quick sudden
movement on his arın, and he stops beside me in the
glow and light on the hearthrug.
'Wrap me up now," I say; "it is so cold outside."
A great white fleecy thing lies upon a chair, and
gravely he wraps it round my shoulders and folds it care-
fully across my chest, saying no word; and my heart
fills with unutterable longing for one such look from his
eyes as I used to scorn long ago. One step nearer I
come to him, a little closer, and gaze with sad longing
eyes up into his.
"Say something kind to me, Humphrey-one little
word."
I can read a sudden surprise in his eyes.
"Wife darling, do you care for what I say?" he whis-
pers low and tremulously.
For one second my face lies upon his breast, his arms
hold me closely to him, and I am nearer happiness,
though it be but for a moment, than I have been since
the day I laid my cold hand in Humphrey's and stood
beside the altar, his wife.
"Won't you dance with me to-night?" I say to him,
as we pass through the hall; and I flush scarlet as I
put the request. "People say unkind things of you and
me, things that are not true."
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311
"And so, to contradict the world's opinion, I am to
have the pleasure of dancing with my wife!"
The bitterness has come back to his tone. I always
seem to say the wrong thing; and yet we are better
friends to-night than we have been for a long time. My
hand lies in his as we drive to the Abbey; and, if it
trembles and struggles a little in his clasp, it is not all
with pain.
}
I
CHAPTER XL.
MEET two men to-night, one of whom I never ex-
pected to see, and the other I had hoped never to
meet again till time had obliterated some things and
taken the sting out of others. I come suddenly face to
face with Mr. Carrington and Captain Delacourt, and for
one second stand dismayed and distressed. Then I
recover myself and hold out my hand to Mark Carring-
ton.
"I had no idea you were to be here to-night, Mr. Car-
rington," I say, uncomfortably aware that Clive Dela-
court's eyes are fixed upon my face; and I struggle
bravely for composure, while the very sight of him brings
back a hundred memories that make it impossible to
meet him now with calmness. Long afterwards I hear
that my sudden discomposure was not unobserved, and
was much commented upon and added to by those who
witnessed my meeting with Captain Delacourt.
"You did not expect to meet me either," he says, when
at last I am forced to turn from Mr. Carrington and
speak to him.
No; your sudden appearance quite startled me,"
I answer, looking straight and swiftly with grave reproach
into his eyes, for he has broken his word and come back
to mar our peace.
He smiles an easy society smile.
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MY MARRIAGE.
"Are you engaged for everything, Mrs. Carstairs?"
Sir Jasper is beside me; I cannot well refuse to dance
with Captain Delacourt. There is a moment's hesitation,
and then with a strange smile on his face he is scribbling
his name on my card; and, as he hands it back, I meet
a quick triumphant gleam from his dark eyes, and sud-
denly I feel chill and cold.
Through the crowd I see my husband watching me,
as I stand with the diamonds glittering and flashing, my
hand on Sir Jasper's arm, and Clive Delacourt saying a
few polite things that I listen to without heeding. I
promise Mr. Carrington a dance; he is engaged for the
next to Lena, and presently I see him claim her and take
her away from the Heavy Dragoon, who seems as fasci-
nated as ever with my pretty bright sister and gives her
up reluctantly.
Very anxiously I look into Bee's face as she passes
me-look at her with a yearning inquiry in my glance
and she smiles back a bright unclouded smile. Three
minutes ago I saw her speaking a few words to Clive
Delacourt, and she can smile already with only a very
faint shadow of the old trouble in her eyes.
By-and-by Lena comes to me in great excitement.
am sitting talking to Mrs. Delacourt, who moves away to
a distant sofa, where a forlorn wall-flower awaits a part
ner in vain. Lena takes her place beside me.
I
"Oh, Madge, I have something to tell you! Listen
with all your attention."
"What is it, Lena?"-turning to her with alacrity,
and thinking it can be nothing less than a proposal from
the Dragoon.
"It is about Mr. Carrington," she begins; and my
matrimonial schemes vanish into thin air. "I was
dancing with him, and I happened to mention Felicia
Grant; and, oh, Madgie, you should have seen his face!
He became scarlet, and then as white as a sheet; and
he asked me what Felicia Grant I meant, and who
she was. He said it might mean a great deal to him if
his Felicia and our Felicia were one and the same, and
MY MARRIAGE.
313
he got so fearfully excited, and looked as if he were
beaming with joy. It was perfectly impossible for me
to answer all his questions, so I sent him off to Hum-
phrey; and they are in the tea-room now, talking twenty
to the dozen. What can it all be about?"
"Our dance, Mrs. Carstairs!"
With a cold smile I look up at Captain Delacourt.
Lena is carried off by a white-haired beaming boy, all
dimples and good-humor. Well may he beam! He has
fifteen thousand a-year, and expects more; so the white-
haired boy is in demand to-night.
"You do not seem very pleased to see me," Captain
Delacourt begins, and I cut him short immediately.
"I will not listen to any conversation of that sort.
If you cannot think of anything more amusing to say, let
us dance in silence."
We do dance in silence accordingly; and not till the
waltz is over does he speak.
"I have come here to-night to say good-by. Will you
grant me five minutes ?”
He holds back the heavy velvet curtains of the open
window, and the night air stirs the hair upon my fore-
head and fans my heated cheeks.
"I will not give you one minute," I answer; and he
turns angry eyes towards me.
'You will be sorry for it if you don't, Mrs. Carstairs ;
I am not to be trifled with to-night."
"Don't get up a scene," I say crossly.
"I am not
going to catch cold in the night air to please any one."
Perhaps I am trying his temper too far I do not
know; but his pale wrathful face is not the pleasantest
sight in the world when he speaks.
"Then I will go and make my peace with your sister
Bee; I can make you feel through her, and you know
it."
"What do you mean?" I say in a frightened whisper.
"You cannot hurt Bee?"
"Can I not?" he retorts coolly.
sure? Shall I go and try?"
“Are you quite
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MY MARRIAGE.
He moves away one step, looking at me at the same
time, and for Bee's sake, to keep this man from speak-
ing to her, I choke back my pride.
"Stay,” I say.
"Now you are reasonable," he returns, once more
drawing back the curtain. "Come outside; it is very
warm, and I want to tell you my plans."
I am in his power for the time being, and he knows
it; yet he must read a little of the scorn and detestation
in my face as we pass out at the open window.
"You can have nothing to say to me that I care to
hear" my lips shaking as I speak.
66
Captain Dela-
court, you are a coward, morally and physically."
Full well he knows what I mean. The man who was
afraid to risk his life to save a woman cannot have
forgotten the incident. His hot fingers close suddenly
round my wrist.
"Do not try me too far; it is unwise of you; for your
own sake I advise you not to do so."
(6
My own sake. You can do me no harm I know
you too well," I retort, with a hard little laugh that dies
a sudden death at his next words.
"For Bee's sake then,"-speaking in a passionate
tone. "I can break your heart through her if I will.
Do not drive me to it."
Not a word do I speak I only shiver as his words
reach my understanding. Verily what touches Bee
touches me most.
I look up at the heavy black sky and feel the warm
air upon my face. It is like summer this November
night, with an oppressive weight in the atmosphere
heralding an approaching storm.
"Would you be glad to hear I was going to Aus-
tralia?" Captain Delacourt asks presently.
"Yes," I say with fervor; and he replies gloomily-
"You need not have expressed your joy so emphati-
cally. Great Heaven, what a fool a man is to trust a
woman!"
He has raised his voice, and I speak a little bitterly-
MY MARRIAGE.
315
66 'We shall be overheard; and I do not suppose you
wish every one to hear you making a fool of yourself;"
and then I lay my fingers on his sleeve.
Take me
back to the ball-room; it is getting chilly."
From out of the open window streams a broad band of
yellow light. I feel myself drawn back suddenly into
the shadow as two figures appear in the window and
step out into the light from the glare within a lady
and gentleman and they are talking about me.
"Have you seen Beauty and the Beast to-night!" the
lady says; and her companion laughs.
"Yes; and Beauty looks more lovely than ever.
What a blaze of diamonds she exhibits to-night.”
"Yes; I have been coveting them all the evening ;'
and then she laughs. "And how unhappy the Beast
looks !"
"Carstairs? Yes; and he is a thoroughly good fellow,
and devoted to her, they say. I pity him. Beauty does
not look very happy herself, diamonds and all, does
she?"
"Oh, I don't know! She has been laughing all the
evening. Shall we go in? It is dreary out here."
They step back into the window, and I look up at
Captain Delacourt.
to
"Poor Beauty and poor Beast! I should have liked
go
forward and let them see I heard every word."
"I wish you had," he replies, and bends his head
suddenly. "Is Beauty unhappy?"
A tall figure comes up against the bar of light that
streams across my face and shows the rush of feeling
that must be written there. As I came face to face with
my husband, I raise my arms suddenly, with the flashing
diamonds on my wrists, and with a blind terror spring
forward, away from Clive Delacourt, to Humphrey's side.
He draws my hand within his arm, standing tall and
strong in the golden pathway from the light within.
"Are you engaged for this quadrille?" he asks very
quietly. "Wiil you come and sit it out with me?" He
pauses for a second, and then stoops suddenly. "For
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MY MARRIAGE.
Heaven's sake, try to look like yourself!"-his voice
growing stern.
I do try, and I succeed, and laugh even quite cheer-
fully as I pass through the room on my husband's arm.
The tea room is quite deserted, and I have some-
thing to say to you; come," he says.
But he seems in no hurry to speak when we are side
by side on a sofa; and I wait in silence for him to
begin; and when I steal a look at his face, it is stern
and set.
66
Madgie," he says suddenly, "have you no pride ?
Do you not care that men are talking of you to-night,
that you and I and our private life are matters of dis-
cussion ?"
晏
​With a blank wordless misery I raise weary eyes to
his.
"Humphrey, I do not think I care for anything
any one thing. I heard a lady envying my diamonds.
to-night. Did she know how miserable the owner of
them is, I wonder?"
Humphrey breathes heavily, like a man hard pressed
or struggling for the mastery with himself.
"And you come to me for pity!" he says at last.
"What do you take me for, that you think I can sit by
and see my wife's eyes looking up to mine and telling
me she is unhappy? Madgie, it is a bitter hour for a
man when he hears and sees and knows what I do to-
night."
With tightly-clenched hands in my lap, I listen, fight-
ing for calmness.
"Is this what you brought me here to listen to?" I
ask at last, with quivering lips. "Humphrey, how can
I look as usual and talk naturally if you speak like
this?"
"We have both need of calmness," he answers sternly
and gloomily — “calmness and patience. Heaven knows
it is hard to have the latter sometimes." And then sud-
denly with an effort he rouses himself. "No, it was
not for bitter useless recriminations I brought you here.
MY MARRIAGE.
317
1
The time is past for me to expect my wishes to be re-
garded. Madgie, I forbid you to dance with that man
again to-night.
"I do not want to dance with him," I say in a low
voice, the blood creeping up to my forehead.
"Hum-
phrey, I have never disobeyed you yet."
And then I look up into his moody, gloomy face, and
he never reads the passionate love in my eyes as they
falter and droop in a mist of tears before the bitter piti-
less condemnation in his.
•
"Disobeyed me? No!" he echoes wearily, as if his
thoughts were very far away; and a half-wistful smile
comes into his face. "Obedience and gratitude this
much has my wife granted me. Madgie, do not look so
broken-hearted! If people come in, they will think I am
reading you a lecture; and, if I have done so already, it
was not for that I brought you here, but to tell you a
strange story I heard to-night about Felicia and Mark
Carrington.'
Felicia always Felicia! A fleeting smile crosses
my lips.
"So the Carrington mystery has been cleared up!
Lena told me something about it a little while ago.”
“What did she tell you?"
"Not much, except that Mr. Carrington was terribly
excited about some Felicia Grant, and that she had sent
him off to you.
(6
'Yes; and the Carrington mystery, as you call it, is
very simple after all. Mr. Carrington met Felicia in
America. Grant was painting his portrait; and while
Carrington was there, he fell in love with Felicia. This
is his own story. He was at the time travelling about
the world seeing men and places. He asked Felicia to
be his wife, telling her the rather peculiar position he
was in, being the heir to a most eccentric uncle who had
other matrimonial schemes for his nephew than merely
making a love-match. Carrington tells me his wife was
chosen for him a young lady with few attractions, but
much money; and, when he wrote to his uncle to tell him
1
318
MY MARRIAGE.
of his engagement to Felicia, the answer was simple
enough. He might marry her if he liked; but he would
forfeit his uncle's property in so doing. Mark Carring-
ton, after this, wished Felicia to consent to a private
marriage, trusting to time to soften his uncle's prejudice.
And here, I think, Felicia shows in a very true womanly
light, loving him so much. She seems to have put her
own happiness entirely out of her thoughts, and thought
of his welfare alone. She refused to marry him privately;
and at last he left for England to try what personal influ-
ence would do with his uncle. In the meantime poor
Grant died; and Felicia, in a spirit of self-sacrifice, kept
the fact of her living at Carstairs a secret. Don't you
remember her agitation when Mr. Carrington was at
Ripley in the summer? It is quite like a story. Car-
rington's uncle died suddenly, leaving him the property;
and ever since the poor fellow has been hunting the wide
world for Felicia ; and just by chance to-night Lena men-
tioned her name.'
In silence I listen to every word, and look up at last
into my husband's face, with doubt and misery in my
heart, and a great longing to know the truth.
"Are you glad?" I ask; and he will never know my
thoughts as I put those three words, nor with what a pas-
sion of longing I await his answer.
"I hope Felicia will be happy," he says. "She has
acted like a heroine; but I can hardly believe it all yet.”
Do I believe it? Do I believe what Humphrey is say-
ing, quietly expressing his hopes for Felicia's happiness
Felicia, who came between him and me, and took his
love away from me, his wife? It is either true or false;
it must be one or the other.
He sighs such a long deep sigh; but it sends the blood
flaming to my cheeks, and I spring up suddenly.
"Come - it will look absurd to see husband and wife
together all the evening."
Without speaking, he stands up, gives me his arm, and
we go back to the ball-room; and I dance with flying
feet and smiling lips.
MY MARRIAGE.
319
1
Georgie comes up to me laughing; she is in amber
silk to-night, and Sir Jasper may well look proud of his
wife, with her bright face and radiant eyes.
"Madgie, what mad spirits you are in!" she says. "I
wish you would infect your husband with them. I can-
not get a word from him to-night. Fancy, he would not
dance with me!"
"He never dances," I say uneasily; and Georgie,
laughing, taps me on the arm with her fan.
"
Yes, he does with you.".
If she knew how her words pain, and how my smile
is meant only to hide the real state of matters from her,
the world, and from myself, if that were possible !
"Madgie," she goes on, lowering her voice, "did you
watch Bee and Chris to-night? I think it is all right now.
Poor Chris! He told me all about it when I came home,
and he looked so miserable. I am glad to see that they
are good friends again."
I follow the direction of her eyes, and see Chris Dela-
court's fair head bent a little, and Bee smiling up at him.
because of something he is saying. It seems strange to
see them so happy now, enjoying the pleasure of the mo-
ment, those two who looked into each other's faces with
a great sorrow and a numbing passionate pain but a few
short months ago.
"Here comes Clive to ask you for this waltz, the
'Manolo ; 'it is very lovely."
"I am tired," I say, as Captain Delacourt comes up,
coloring and avoiding his eyes as I speak.
Georgie has gone, and we are alone.
“Has your husband forbidden you to dance with me?"
he asks. "Do not spoil those scornful lips with a false-
hood; I see he has. But I mean to dance this with you
for all that."
"I am not going to dance," I say indignantly.
"You must," he whispers. "I shall have this last tri-
umph, that you disobeyed him for me."
There is a brief pause. I am fighting for composure,
and he sees his advantage.
K
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MY MARRIAGE:
“Come — it is the last waltz perhaps that you and I
will ever have together. You cannot refuse my last
request.'
{
66
"It appears more like a command than a request," I
answer with a pitiful attempt at sarcasm. Captain Dela-
court, I do not intend to dance.”
"Then I will go and ask Bee," he says, his face flush-
ing. "I am not a vain man; but I do not think she will
refuse me "-speaking with slow emphasis. "I am sorry
to have to interfere with poor Chris; and, if Bee's peace
is endangered, she will have you to thank, for the Rose
of Carstairs is as heartless as she is beautiful."
“come."
"..
Yet another second he pauses, and, as I raise my head
with a gesture of pride, our eyes meet.
"Our last waltz," he whispers
There is a threatening look in the dark smiling eyes.
I feel the blood sweeping back from my face, the smile
is frozen on my lips.
"I have never hated man or woman as I do you at
this moment," I say, so low that he has to bend his head
to catch the gasped-out bitterness of the words.
He laughs lightly as he passes his arm round my waist,
and we two glide over the shining floor, swaying to the
rhythm of the music. At the doorway stands Hum-
phrey. My dress brushes him as we swing past, and I
give one glance into his face-one beseeching glance
and then I meet the look in his eyes for a second, a
look that has more of pain than aught else.
"My influence over you is greater than his," Captain
Delacourt whispers ; and I turn cold and faint with
misery as his arm tightens round me. "You have dis-
obeyed him for my sake."
"For Bee's sake," I answer bitterly. "And surely
you are content with the wrong you have done now?
For Bee's sake. Have I done right after all, I won-
der, when even she condemns, and I read a sorrowful
reproach in her eyes.
"Oh, Madgie, Humphrey is so angry! I did not
think you would have danced with Captain Delacourt."
MY MARRIAGE.
321
Later on I may tell her why I braved my husband's
wrath; now I only laugh carelessly -
66
Captain Delacourt's step suits mine, Bee; of course
I must dance with him.”
I have risked much for her sake and she does not
know; she only looks sad and sorry.
And it is Clive Delacourt who takes me to the car-
riage, while Chris lingers whispering with Bee; and
Humphrey, walking like a man in a dream, brings Lena,
with the Dragoon at the other side carrying her fan and
bouquet. So ends the Abbey ball.
CHAPTER XLI.
No one
NOT drive home; and I sit by his side in silence.
OT one word does Humphrey speak during the
The storm has burst, and gusts of wind and rain come
from over the sea, increasing every moment, and we can
hear the roar and boom of the waves upon the beach.
Sick at heart and miserable, I lean back in the carriage,
and hear Bee and Lena talking about the ball.
Once, with a sort of longing for consolation and sym-
pathy, I let my hand steal slowly towards the silent
figure beside me, and lay my tremulous fingers on the
hand resting on his knee. And he ah, surely his love
for me is a dead and withered thing, or his wrath very
deep and bitter, when he can draw away his hand as if
the touch of my timid fingers hurts him! The scalding
tears brim to my eyes, and stay there unshed, as I find
my influence is dead, and I, his wife, have no longer any
power over him no, no longer.
*
*
*
*
He speaks at last. White and weary, I look up into
his face and tremble as I meet the anger in his eyes, the
wrath of a man who deems his anger just.
"Humphrey, don't scold me to-night!" I cry. "I am
}
21
322
MY MARRIAGE.
so tired; and you would not blame me if you could un-
derstand."
"Scold
“I am not going to scold you," he returns.
you! Great Heaven, when I took you for my wife, I
thought I could never speak a harsh word to you,
Madgie! Child, it was a poor defrance to disobey me
openly to-night."
I stand before him in the drawing-room as we have
come from the ball, and the light of one candle falls
upon me as I shiver beneath his stern gaze. Verily
my riches have brought but poor happiness. I stand
with the diamonds like a collar of light round my swell-
ing throat as I choke back the sobs, and my husband
looks like my judge before me, with his arms folded
across his chest.
"Humphrey, I will explain - but not now," I say in
a smothered voice; and he breaks in passionately
Explain! Heaven knows, Madgie, if I thought you
could explain, I would make you do so now! Listen,
and judge if my anger is not just. It was said of you
to-night that you had married for money-for these"
touching the bar of light, the necklace of diamonds that
rises and falls with every passionate long-drawn breath.
"At least no one who bore the name of Carstairs ever
brought shame upon it till now. They may have loved
the diamonds; but they did not disgrace them. My
child, my wife, it breaks my heart to speak like this;
but I am very jealous of my wife's name; and what Í
have seen and heard to-night has smitten home indeed.”
A great sob breaks from me.
"Humphrey, Humphrey, let me speak!" I cry, a
great fear and terror shaking me from head to foot.
"What shame? What disgrace? I do not understand."
"Hush!" he says sternly. "Was it no sin to ask me
for kindness to-night-me, your husband—to kiss me
to-night—a a false kiss? But it made me believe in you;
and that was what you wished. Madgie, if I speak more,
it may be to say what perhaps I might regret; but we
Carstairs hold truth and honor before all.”
MY MARRIAGE.
323
“Humphrey, are you saying this of me?”
I hardly know my own voice, as I speak in a broken
breathless whisper, and, stepping towards him, lay white
trembling arms upon his shoulders, and lean my face
upon his breast.
“I love you—I love you!” Fain would the words
rise to my lips; but, ah me, his love is dead, and what -
avails mine now? And I only say sorrowfully w
“Who has turned you from your wife?”
"Herself," he whispers in a strange choking voice
and puts me away from him, gently, it is true; but it
wounds me sorely; and I draw back and say not another.
word. "We will talk of this to-morrow; I cannot trust
myself to-night," he says; and, going to the window,
opens it wide.
A gust of wind and rain rushes in, and the candle
flickers.
"You are not going out?" I ask tremulously; and he
answers, in the same strange voice--
"Yes; the air will do me good; and I have much to
think over."
So he goes out into the rain and the darkness, and 1
drag myself slowly up-stairs, to weep my heart out alone
in the chill hours of the growing dawn. For Bee's sake!
And perhaps after all I have done wrong! Ah, well,
let my heart break if it will; it cannot ache more than
it does now!
*
Out in the wind and rain I listen to words that bow
me to the very earth with shame listen with parted
lips and distended eyes. I, a wife, and another man
than my husband at my feet in the sodden grass, breath-
ing of love, speaking words that it were well had not
been uttered!
In my great horror and indignation it seems that no
words will come only the cry-
"Pray Heaven to forgive you!"
"Forgiveness for what?" he cries out passionately.
My only sin is loving you!"-raising his white face,
wet with the falling rain.
324
MY MARIAGE.
For all the misery that is written there, I cannot pity
him. His trouble is of his own seeking.
"Clive Delacourt, I despise you!"
At my words he rises to his feet, and we two, alone,
stand face to face.
"Let me pass!" I say, frightened and shaken by the
recollection of the words that he has spoken, — by the
awful meaning of those words.
"Go back to the man you married, as you yourself
told me long ago, for the good his money could do, for
the diamonds that made your fair beauty fairer still!
Poor fool - I pity him!" he says.
"Pity me rather," I wail, raising my face to the storm-
tossed branches overhead "who love him, and all in
vain "— murmuring the words to myself, and turning
away, walking with slow uncertain steps through the
soaking leaves.
With bent head, and blinding tears falling like rain, I
pass on, and turn not at the sound of my name whis-
pered in a low passionate tone, but speed with flying
feet, faltering and stumbling through the long grass, and
see not my husband facing me, till my foot catches, and
a strong hand suddenly steadies me.
66
Humphrey !" I cry, and spring back from him at
sight of the strange awful look on his face a look that
seems to shut me out from him for ever a pitiless
stony look, as of a man who has been hurt unto death,
smitten down without hope; and in the eyes that meet
mine for a second there is a great reproach.
Last night he passed out into the rain and darkness;
to-day I see him again, and look upon him thus.
"Come!
Only one word falls from his lips, or rather he hurls it
out from between his teeth, and I follow him in silence;
for truly words seem powerless and weak at such a time
as this.
"
1
MY MARRIAGE.
325
CHAPTER XLII., AND LAST.
My is my library. Thither have I followed
MY
Y husband is my judge. We are alone together,
he and I, the
him, and he has shut the door; yet he does not speak
he only walks up and down, and never looks towards
me, I whose eyes gaze with a great love and longing at
his stern face.
Oh, this fearful, appalling silence! Minute after min-
ute passes, and I could cry aloud from the intensity of
my suffering, the agony that is past endurance. Oh,
this weary pacing up and down, to and fro, and the rain
beating against the windows and running down like fall-
ing tears. When he speaks,
When he speaks, what will he say — what
will come from his lips?
-
I stand by the table, and rest my hand upon it; for I
am weak and trembling, and my knees shake as I stand.
A letter lies by my hand, directed in Humphrey's hand-
writing to Felicia Grant. In his trouble he has written
to her a long letter, to judge by its bulky appearance,
and I bite my lips as I gaze. What has he said about
me in those pages, I wonder?
The walking up and down ceases suddenly, and with
a wildly-beating heart I look up to read a little of his
thoughts in the eyes regarding me. The anger has died
out, and only a deep sorrow remains. Perhaps it is the
sight of my woe-begone, tear-stained face that inoves him,
for, when he speaks, it is in a very low, gentle voice, and
yet I start convulsively as he opens his lips.
"Heaven has given me patience this day, and it is
through that that my soul is unstained with a fellow-crea-
ture's blood.”
So far he speaks unbrokenly, and then he stops with
a long deep-drawn breath. With wild eyes and beating
heart I gaze at him.
What does he mean? There is a
growing wrath in his face, an awful passion rising and
covering the pity and sadness that were there before.
326.
MY MARRIAGE.
"Madgie," he
alone can give a
hour like this!
me to know that
man ?"
cries hoarsely and brokenly, "Heaven
man strength to keep his senses in an
Can you not understand what it is for
my wife loves not me, but another
"It is false it is false !" I cry out in an agony of
terror.
He takes one step forward, and I see him shake with
a great trembling from head to foot.
"It will kill me,” he gasps
(6 'I cannot bear it !"
And I — I cannot speak, as the truth rushes upon my
mind, and I stand still by the table, with his gasping
cry ringing in my ears.
Humphrey !" comes from my lips at last, and my
hands are stretched towards him.
I see his white face for a secoud; and then he stag-
gers to a chair, flings his arms upon the table, and, lay-
ing his head down, there breaks upon my ear the sound
of a man weeping the sound that of all others troubles
a woman and makes her heart ache.
As I listen to his passionate sobbing, I forget all else.
I know only that I love him; and the instinct to com-
fort him brings me to his side, and words flow now with
passion and vehemence as, on my knees beside him,
my fingers try to force themselves into the strong
clenched hands, and I cry out in my love and terror
Humphrey, Humphrey, I am your true faithful wife!
My husband, hear me!"
As I speak the door is opened suddenly, and Chris
Delacourt's voice calls out hurriedly
"Carstairs, come quickly there is a small ship
aground on the rocks, and
>>
He stops midway, and I stand between him and Hum
phrey ; but Chris has only to look into my face to see
little of what has passed.
"I ~~ I ought not to have come in," he says, with his
face scarlet. "I am very sorry.”
Then Humphrey stands up and comes forward.
"I will come with you now, Chris. Are there any
lives to be saved?”
MY MARRIAGE.
327
"Yes; the little vessel is going to pieces, and there
are three poor fellows in the rigging.
""
Poor Chris is terribly confused, I suppose he thinks
Humphrey and I have been having a matrimonial quar-
rel, for he whispers to me as we hurry through the
hall
"Mrs. Carstairs, you may trust me."
"I know it," I return, and follow him and Humphrey
out through the door into the rain outside.
"You are not coming?" says Humphrey, looking
back.
"Yes," I answer piteously. "Oh, please let me
come !'
He springs back into the hall, seizes a large cloak,
wraps it tightly round me, and then, as I raise my face,
our eyes meet; and his are full of tears. Then for
there is no time to be lost, and human lives are in danger
he hurries away after Chris.
I make my way in the blinding rain down to the beach,
where stand a small crowd, and outside, with the spray
flying over it every second in blinding sheets, is a poor
little broken vessel, with her sides rent by the rocks, and
her crew clinging to the rigging waiting for help to come.
A boat is being pushed into the billows amid the blind-
ing spray. Humphrey stands giving orders; his hat is
gone and his hair is blown back from his face. So I
see him
my king, my husband and I know that he
is going out on that boiling sea to save and help.
White and terrified, Bee comes flying over the beach,
swaying in the gusts of wind, and, as she reaches my
side, Chris Delacourt runs up from the boat and catches
her hand in his.
Say Heaven speed me!" he cries - he is very pale
and excited, for death lurks in those yawning waves,
and the life within him is young and strong.
66
May Heaven bring you safely back!" Bee answers
frankly and fearlessly, and then cries out for him to be
careful not to throw away his life.
Chris smiles radiantly. I think he would risk death
3-28
MY MARRIAGE.
a thousand times to see Bee's lips trembling for his
safety.
One other figure leaves the boat and walks quickly up
to where we stand; and once more I listen to my hus-
band's voice. He lays his hand upon my shoulder and
bends his face to mire.
"If I never come back, remember I have loved you
well - how well you will never know."
Then he kisses my lips, and runs with Chris down to
the boat. They are shoving it off into the yawning gulf
of seething foam when Clive Delacourt appears at my
side.
"Chris is mad!" he cries. "They will be swamped!"
Above the wind and waves I hear Humphrey's voice
shouting for one other man to volunteer; but the crowd
stand steady
men with wives and little ones will not
throw away their lives.
66
Clive," shouts Chris, catching sight of his brother,
CC come on!"
Frenzied and grief-stricken, I turn to the man at my
side.
""
"Go," I shriek; one arm may save the rest
go!"
Without a word he dashes forward, pushes through
the crowd, and springs into the boat. Like one voice
a cry goes up as those brave souls go forth to danger and
to death. Lost in the abyss of mighty waves, now hid-
den, now appearing a mere speck, the little boat rises
and falls, ever making its way slowly towards the wreck;
"And the women are weeping
And wringing their hands."
With the touch of his last sad lingering kiss upon my
lips, I watch with strained aching eyes the angry awful
waves, and the tiny black spot that reveals the boat,
with Humphrey's last words echoing in my mind as
I gaze
"If I never come back" Never come back!
Is there a mist? Is it tears?
"She is lost!" "
Is it tears? I cannot see the boat.
They have gone down!" voices are
shouting around, and men and women rush to and fro.
MY MARRIAGE.
329
Bee's fingers grasp mine tightly.
"Heaven bring them back!" she cries in her clear
sweet voice; and then-"Madgie, I see the boat; they
have reached the wreck!"
He may never come back
never come back! The
weary, weary words; and he said them a little while
ago, and kissed me-oh, so sadly!
as one kisses
the dead. And the sweet sad words, "I have loved you
well!" Love the love my soul was hungering for —is
mine, and perhaps he will never come back.
66
Oh, tell me where they are, Bee, for I cannot see!"
They are taking the men from the wreck," she re-
plies. "And now I cannot see them for the waves."
"Oh, Humphrey, Humphrey !" I cry, with a great
tearless sob. I cannot see for the showers of blinding
spray. Oh, Bee, do you see them now? Tell me!" I
cry, and hide my face.
(6
"Heaven help them
they are lost!" shrieks a voice
in the crowd; and a great wailing cry of women's voices
rises above the roaring boom of the waves.
4
Crouched on the beach, my face hidden, I listen to
the shouts of human voices. If I look at the sea, I
shall go mad; and every moment seems an eternity of
anguish.
66
They are coming back," I hear Bee saying. "Oh,
the waves! Madgie, don't look; it is too awful! They
are coming nearer; I can see their faces! Now the
boat is hidden by the waves; and now Ah, see—”
Her words are drowned by the roar of human voices.
"Saved saved!".
I spring up, to see the boat and those brave souls
with white set faces sweeping onwards towards us, car-
ried on by a great wave with monstrous curling crest.
For one second with hushed breath we see them; and
death seems rushing over the howling sea to seize and
grasp that frail shrinking craft before they reach the
shore.
A prayer rises to my lips. I see only Humphrey;
and it seems to me that his eyes meet mine.
And
1
339
MY MARRIAGE.
then Ah, Heaven have mercy now! Like a child's
toy the boat with eight living souls on board comes rush-
ing onward, sways; and, tossed by the mighty waves,
sweeps broadside on to the beach. One wild shriek
of grief and horror goes up, and, as from one man, a
hoarse cry of agony comes from the sea, where human
beings fight and struggle for life in the boiling, seething
surf.
Ah, Heaven, if I live to be old, I shall still see and
hear it all the great hungry waves the crowd rush-
cries, and those
ing wildly to and fro, the shrieks, the
struggling figures smitten down as they rise, fighting
with the strength of the mighty waves men rushing in
>
+
up to their waists in the sea of foam, and women
screaming as, one by one, human lives are saved, and
strong ready arms snatch them from death.
Spent and breathless, staggering upon the beach, I
see Chris Delacourt helped up by a stalwart fisherman ;
and a gasp comes from Bee's lips as he wrenches him-
self from the arms holding him and rushes forward
again into the blinding waves.
All saved but one, and I, his wife, watching the end!
Oh, Heaven help him! The waves are carrying him
from my sight! For one second I see his wild despair-
ing face sweeping towards me; he has reached the
shore! Ah, no!
1
Through the crowd flies one, a woman, a wife, and
with her weak strength faces the yawning waves.
"Humphrey, I am coming!"
The surf sways and surges to my knees. With arms
outstretched I stand, and he is battling for his life.
Strong arms drag me back and hold me fast.
"Save him!" I gasp, looking up wildly into Clive
Delacourt's face; and even in the awful agony of the
moment I can see how strange he looks.
And then I see him with a rope tied round him, dash-
ing into the waves that are sweeping something dark
along with them. The great cruel waves bear him along,
and lay my husband's body at my feet.
MY MARRIAGE.
331
"He is dead!" Chris Delacourt bursts out, sobbing;
and a cry goes up from the assembled crowd.
•
The sea, the faces, and that still silent figure grow
dim and dark, and Heaven sends death to me too, for
my heart is broken.
A long, long sigh, and I wake to life again — to
life and knowledge. It was not death that came to
me then, or this awakening would not be so fearful.
I am in my own room, in my bed, and the sight of
the familiar things around me brings it all back with
a rush; and I remember what has happened now.
*
*
*
*
"Poor Madgie! Break it to her gently, Bee" -
Lena's voice, very tremulous and uncertain.
The light of a candle falls upon my quivering lids.
I turn my face away, and hide it from their sight!
Break it to me gently! All the words the human tongue
may utter can make no difference. This that has hap-
pened they may say in three words "Humphrey is
dead."
-
"Madgie!" says Bee's voice, soft and whispering.
At sound of it my sorrow wakes and cries the pain
and anguish, all the grief and longing, that, if I live
for seventy years, I shall ever feel as keenly as I do
now.
""
"He is dead; do not speak to me!" I wail.
I wail. "Hum-
phrey, Humphrey, my love, my darling!
There is a stir, a stifled sob. A hand draws back the
curtain.
'Madgie, be calm!" Bee cries.
She is smiling, smiling when my heart is broken! Do
I dream? Who is this, with arms outstretched? Ah,
no, it is no dream!
66
Madgie darling - my poor little wife!
"
•
With a glad cry. I throw my arms about his neck. My
love, my husband, come back from the grave! Joy does
not kill; and yet I lie very still in the clasp of those
arms that tremble as they hold me tightly. Not a word
332
MY MARRIAGE.
do I say, but hide my face. on his breast, with deep
thankfulness.
"Foolish child!" he says at last, with a tremulous
loving voice. Madgie, it was worth being nearly
drowned, to hear my wife call me 'darling.'"
I whisper it to him now with loving tenderness; and,
as we two take a long, long look into each other's eyes,
there is no need of words any more. And out of death
has sprung to life a great joy and confidence, and noth-
ing on earth can ever come between us again.
"
*
*
*
*
Madgie, you might have trusted your husband."
With my hand in his I have whispered all the doubt
and misery, and only these words of reproach has he
uttered; then, with the crimson blushes rising to my
cheeks, I speak in a low voice, and do not look at him
as I breathe Felicia Grant's name. When I cease talk-
ing, he gathers my hand yet closer in his.
"I understand it all now," he says slowly. "Wife, I
have never loved but one woman, and I am holding her
hand now." Then, bending his face a little-"Madgie,
look at me, and promise that in all the life to come, when
doubts and troubles arise, you will come first to me, your
husband."
(6
"I promise," I whisper, raising my eyes to his.
'Humphrey, I can bear anything now, for I know you
love me."
*
A great peace and rest has fallen, and the days are
filled with a happiness too deep for words — a happiness
that seems sacred after the pain and sorrow that went
before. We do not speak of the trouble now, but of the
life before us, the goodly life that is to be.
One message do I send to my old friend Colonel Tre-
vannion, and Humphrey smiles as he reads the words—
"Come to Carstairs; Humphrey and I want you, that you may
hear how madcap Madgie has kept her promise.""
We have no more secrets between us now; and it is
MY MARRIAGE.
333
Humphrey who tells me that Clive Delacourt has sailed
for Australia.
"So for Bee's sake' you need never break my heart
any more," he whispers gently." Madgie, what do you
say to buying a yacht and going for a cruise to the Medi-
terranean for part of the winter?"
“I should like it very much," I answer, and smile as
I speak, for I desire nothing but to be with him.
“Well, after Felicia's wedding, we will go," he says
cheerfully. "I met Carrington yesterday, and he wants
it to take place immediately.'
""
They are married before the New Year; and Felicia
never knows why I put my arms round her neck, and ask
her to forgive me me, who wronged her in thought ;
and she never knows how it all came about, the pain
and misery that are ended now.
*
*
*
On the morrow Humphrey and I start; and I do not
think the hours now will be wearisome, the time long,
with him alone. Bee and Lena are going home to-day;
and at the last Bee whispers
"Madgie darling, I said Yes' to Chris last night."
The light in her eyes is enough; I know that "Yes"
came not from her lips alone.
*
*
*
**
**
We have seen Bee and Lena off on their homeward
journey; and Chris, with his fair face a little clouded, has
smiled a farewell for a short time only. And now in the
gathering twilight Humphrey and I stand side by side in
the deep window, looking at the dying glow in the west-
ern sky, and with a great, great happiness in our hearts
-husband and wife, strangers no longer.
"And so Bee is to marry Chris?" Humphrey says,
after a long silence. "Chris is a good fellow, and she
will be happy."
"Yes; and she loves him now," I answer. "Darling
Bee-fancy having her living close to us always."
His arm, passing round my shoulders, draws me to
his side.
334
MY MARRIAGE.
"Wife, answer me one question.'
"
"Well" lifting, as of old, saucy smiling eyes to his
"what question, Humphrey?"
Closer the dear face bends to mine, and his arms hold
me tightly.
(C
Madgie, do you love me as much as Bee?"
“No”
a smile quivering on my lips as I look up
into the gray eyes bent so tenderly on mine.
"What then, darling?"
My arms creep up to lay themselves about his neck,
and I whisper softly-
"Not as much, but more !,"
(a
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livened by the occasional introduction of brief stories, and forms, on the
whole, the most unique, thoughtful, and entertaining story that we have met
for some time."
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truth there may be in the story given by one of the characters-a Yankee
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done. The volume is just the one for reading at odd moments. The main
thread is so slight that it may be broken without destroying all interest in
the whole, and you will be pretty sure to find on any page at which you
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ANNEX
AISLE 69
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654321
A4 Page 8543210
AIIM SCANNER TEST CHART #2
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
Spectra
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ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:”,./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:',./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
Times Roman
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:'../?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
Century Schoolbook Bold
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
4 PT
6 PT
News Gothic Bold Reversed
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:'',/?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:',./?$0123456789
8 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
Bodoni Italic
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?80123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ΑΒΓΔΕΞΘΗΙΚΛΜΝΟΠΡΣΤΥΩΝΨΖαβγδεξθηικλμνοπορστνωχ ζ=7",/St=#°><ΕΞ
Greek and Math Symbols
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
ΑΒΓΔΕΞΘΗΙΚΛΜΝΟΠΦΡΣΤΥΩΧΨΖαβγδεξθηικλμνοπφροτυωχψί=7",/S+=#°><><><=
ΑΒΓΔΕΞΘΗΙΚΛΜΝΟΠΦΡΣΤΥΩΧ Ζαβγδεξθηικλμνοπόρστυωχψίπτ",./St##°><><><Ξ
10 ΡΤ ΑΒΓΔΕΞΘΗΙΚΛΜΝΟΠΦΡΣΤΥΩΧΨΖαβγδεξθηικλμνοπορστνωχ ίΞτ",/St=#°><><=
White
MESH HALFTONE WEDGES
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65
85
100
110
133
150
Black
Isolated Characters
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1
2
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a
4
5
6
7
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A4 Page 6543210
A4 Page 6543210
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65432
MEMORIAL DRIVE, ROCHESTER, NEW YORK 14623
RIT ALPHANUMERIC RESOLUTION TEST OBJECT, RT-1-71
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PRODUCED BY GRAPHIC ARTS RESEARCH CENTER