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diff --git a/26210-h/26210-h.htm b/26210-h/26210-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9357048 --- /dev/null +++ b/26210-h/26210-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5545 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of How To Cook Husbands, by Elizabeth Strong Worthington</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + body { + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + } + p { + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1em; + } + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + font-weight: normal; + } + h1 { + font-size: xx-large; + letter-spacing: 0.15ex; + padding-left: 0.15ex; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + line-height: 125%; + } + h2 { + font-size: x-large; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + p.author { + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + font-weight: bold; + } + p.publisher { + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + padding-bottom: 0.5em; + line-height: 150%; + } + p.copyright { + margin-top: 4em; + margin-bottom: 4em; + font-size: 70%; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + } + p.dedication { + font-size: larger; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + } + p.recipe { + margin-top: 1.5em; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + } + p.theend { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2.5em; + font-size: 90%; + } + div.note { + margin: 4em 5% 0 5%; + padding: 1em; + border: 1px dashed black; + color: inherit; + background-color: #F0F8FF; + font-size: smaller; + } + div.note p { + margin-top: 0em; + text-indent: 0em; + } + ul { + list-style: none; + margin-left: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + padding-left: 1.5em; + text-indent: -1.5em; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + right: 1%; + font-size: x-small; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0em; + color: gray; + background-color: inherit; + } + + img { + border: none; + } + a:link { + text-decoration: none; + color: rgb(10%,30%,60%); + background-color: inherit; + } + a:visited { + text-decoration: none; + color: rgb(10%,30%,60%); + background-color: inherit; + } + a:hover { + text-decoration: underline; + } + a:active { + text-decoration: underline; + } + .bb { + border-bottom: solid 2px; + padding-bottom: 1em; + } + .bt { + border-top: solid 2px; + padding-top: 1em; + } + .bbox { + border: solid 2px; + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + } + + .center { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + } + .gesperrt { + letter-spacing: 0.35ex; + padding-left: 0.35ex; + } + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 3em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + text-align: center; + } + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left; font-size: 90%;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's How to Cook Husbands, by Elizabeth Strong Worthington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: How to Cook Husbands + +Author: Elizabeth Strong Worthington + +Release Date: August 7, 2008 [EBook #26210] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW TO COOK HUSBANDS *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Spehar, Markus Brenner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 204px;"> +<a href="images/cover.jpg"> +<img src="images/cover_th.jpg" width="204" height="397" alt="" title="" /></a> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center gesperrt bb"><i>“They are really delicious<br /> +—when properly treated.”</i></p> + + +<h1>How To Cook<br /> +Husbands</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 30px;"> +<img src="images/title_ornament.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="author">By ELIZABETH STRONG WORTHINGTON<br /><br /> + +Author of “The<br /> +Little Brown Dog”<br /> +“The Biddy Club”</p> + + +<p class="publisher bt">Published at 220 East 23rd St., New York<br /> +by the Dodge Publishing Company +</p> +</div> + + + +<p class="copyright"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +COPYRIGHT IN THE YEAR<br /> +EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND<br /> +NINETY-EIGHT BY DODGE<br /> +STATIONERY COMPANY<br /> +</p> + + +<div style="margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em;"> +<p class="dedication"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>Dedication</p> + +<p class="center">To a dear little girl who will some<br /> +day, I hope, be skilled in all branches<br /> +of matrimonial cookery.</p> +</div> + +<!-- <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>[Blank Page]</p> --> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +<a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">A while</span> ago I came across a newspaper +clipping—a recipe written by a Baltimore +lady—that had long lain dormant +in my desk. It ran as follows:</p> + +<p>“A great many husbands are spoiled by +mismanagement. Some women go about +it as if their husbands were bladders, and +blow them up; others keep them constantly +in hot water; others let them freeze, by +their carelessness and indifference. Some +keep them in a stew, by irritating ways and +words; others roast them; some keep them +in pickle all their lives. Now it is not to +be supposed that any husband will be good, +managed in this way—turnips wouldn’t; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>onions wouldn’t; cabbage-heads wouldn’t, +and husbands won’t; but they are really +delicious when properly treated.</p> + +<p>“In selecting your husband you should +not be guided by the silvery appearance, +as in buying mackerel, or by the golden +tint, as if you wanted salmon. Be sure to +select him yourself, as taste differs. And +by the way, don’t go to market for him, +as the best are always brought to your +door.</p> + +<p>“It is far better to have none, unless +you patiently learn to cook him. A preserving +kettle of the finest porcelain is the +best, but if you have nothing but an +earthenware pipkin, it will do, with care.</p> + +<p>“See that the linen, in which you wrap +him, is nicely washed and mended, with +the required amount of buttons and strings, +nicely sewed on. Tie him in the kettle +with a strong cord called Comfort, as the +one called Duty is apt to be weak. They +sometimes fly out of the kettle, and become +burned and crusty on the edges, since, like +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>crabs and oysters, you have to cook them +alive.</p> + +<p>“Make a clear, strong, steady fire out of +Love, Neatness, and Cheerfulness. Set +him as near this as seems to agree with him. +If he sputters and fizzles, don’t be anxious; +some husbands do this till they are quite +done. Add a little sugar, in the form of +what confectioners call Kisses, but no vinegar +or pepper on any account. A little +spice improves them, but it must be used +with judgment.</p> + +<p>“Don’t stick any sharp instrument into +him, to see if he is becoming tender. Stir +him gently; watching the while lest he +should lie too close to the kettle, and so become +inert and useless.</p> + +<p>“You cannot fail to know when he is +done. If thus treated, you will find him +very digestible, agreeing nicely with you +and the children.”</p> + +<p>“So they are better cooked,” I said to +myself, “that is why we hear of such +numbers of cases of marital indigestion—the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>husbands are served raw—fresh—unprepared.”</p> + +<p>“They are really delicious when properly +treated,”—I wonder if that is so.</p> + +<p>But I must pause here to tell you a bit +about myself. I am not an old maid, but, +at the time this occurs, I am unmarried, +and I am thirty-four years old—not +quite beyond the pale of hope. Men and +women never do pass beyond that—not +those of sanguine temperament at any rate. +I am neither rich nor poor, but repose in a +comfortable stratum betwixt and between. +I keep house, or rather it keeps me, and a +respectable woman who, with her husband, +manages my domestic affairs, lends +the odor of sanctity and propriety to my +single existence. I am of medium height, +between blond and brunette, and am said to +have a modicum of both brains and good +looks.</p> + +<p>The recipe I read set me a-thinking. +I was in my library, before a big log fire. +The room was comfortable; glowing with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>rich, warm firelight at that moment, but +it was lonesome, and I was lonely.</p> + +<p>Supposing, I said to myself, I really had +a husband; how should I cook him?</p> + +<p>The words of an old lady came into my +mind. She had listened to this particular +recipe, and after a moment’s silence had +leaned over, and whispered in my ear:</p> + +<p>“First catch your fish.”</p> + +<p>But supposing he were now caught, and +seated in that rocker across from me, before +this blazing fire.</p> + +<p>I walked to the window—to one side of +me lives a little thrush, at least she is trim +and comely, and always dresses in brown. +Just now she is without her door, stooping +over her baby, who is sitting like a tiny +queen in her chariot, just returned from +an airing.</p> + +<p>It isn’t the question of husband alone—he +might be managed—roasted, stewed, or +parboiled, but it’s the whole family—a +household. Take the children, for instance; +if they could be set up on shelves in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>glass cases, as fast as they came, all might +be well, but they <i>will</i> run around, and +Heaven only knows what they will run +into. Why, had I children, I should plug +both ears with cotton, for fear I should +hear the door-bell. I know it would ring +constantly, and such messages as these +would be hurled in:</p> + +<p>“Several of them have been arrested for +blowing up the neighbors with dynamite +firecrackers.”</p> + +<p>“Half a dozen of them have tumbled from +off the roof of the house. They escaped +injury, but have thrown a nervous lady, +over the way, into spasms.”</p> + +<p>“One or two of them have just been +dragged from beneath the electric cars. +They seem to be as well as ever, but three +of the passengers died of fright.”</p> + +<p>Just think of that! What should I do?</p> + +<p>Keep an extra maid to answer the bell, +I suppose, and two or three thousand dollars +by me continually, to pay damages.</p> + +<p>What a time poor Job had of it answering +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>his door bell, and how very unpleasant +it must have been to receive so many pieces +of news of that sort, in one morning!</p> + +<p>Clearly I am better off in my childless +condition, and yet——</p> + +<p>Little Mrs. Thrush is just kissing her +soft, round-faced cherub. I wish she +would do that out of sight.</p> + +<p>Now as to husbands again, if I had one, +what should I do with him?</p> + +<p>I might say, Sit down.</p> + +<p>Supposing he wouldn’t. What then?</p> + +<p>Cudgels are out of date. Were he an +alderman, I might take a Woman’s Club +to him, but a husband has been known to +laugh this instrument to scorn.</p> + +<p>But supposing he sat down. What +then? He might be a gentleman of irascible, +nasty temper, and in walking about +my room, I might step on his feet. These +irritable folk have such large feet, at least +they are always in the way, and always +being stepped on no matter how careful +one tries to be.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>What then?</p> + +<p>I decline to contemplate the scene.</p> + +<p>Plainly I am better off single.</p> + +<p>I walk to my front window, and stretch +my arms above my head. There is a +light fall of snow upon the ground. This +late snow is trying: in its season, it is +beautiful; but out of season, it breeds a +cheerlessness that emphasises one’s loneliness. +I look out through the leafless trees +toward the lake, but it is hidden by the +whirling, eddying snowflakes. I see Mr. +Thrush hurrying home to his little nest.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I say to myself, repeating my +last thought with a certain obstinacy, +“yes, I am better off without a husband, +and yet I wish I had one—one would answer, +on a pinch—one at a time, at least. +A husband is like a world in that respect; +one at a time, is the proper proportion.”</p> + +<p>“It’s far better to have none, unless you +learn to cook him.” These words recurred +to me, just as I was on the point of +taking a life partner, in a figurative sense.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>The woman that deliberates is lost; consequently, +as it won’t do to think the matter +over, I plunge in.</p> + +<p>My spouse is now pacing up and down +the room in a rampant manner, complaining +of his dinner, the world in general, +and <i>me</i> in particular.</p> + +<p>What am I to do?</p> + +<p>Charles Reade has written a recipe that +applies very well just here. It is briefly +expressed:</p> + +<p>“Put yourself in his place.”</p> + +<p>I could not have done this a few years +ago, but now I can. Never, until I undertook +the management of my business +affairs—never until I had some knowledge +of business cares and anxieties, the weight +of notes falling due; the charge of business +honor to keep; the excited hope of +fortunate prospects; and the depression +following hard upon failure and disappointment—never +until I learned all this, +did I realize what home should mean to a +man, and how far wide of the mark many +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>women shoot, when they aim to establish +a restful retreat for their husbands.</p> + +<p>I have returned to my domicile, after a +fatiguing day up town, with a feeling of +exhaustion that lies far deeper than the +mere physical structure—a spent feeling +as if I have given my all, and must be replenished +before I can make another +move. I once had a housekeeper whose +very face I dreaded at such times. She +always took advantage of my silence and +my limp condition, to relate the day’s disasters. +She had no knowledge of what a +good dinner meant, and no tact in falling +in with my tastes or needs. On the contrary; +if there was a dish I disliked, it was +sure to appear on those most weary evenings. +In brief, from the very moment I +reached home, she did nothing but brush +my fur up, instead of down, and I did +nothing but spit at her.</p> + +<p>Now, many women are like this housekeeper. +I wonder their husbands don’t +slay them. If you would look out in my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>back yard, I fear you would see the bones +of several of these tactless, exasperating +housekeepers, bleaching in the wind and +rain.</p> + +<p>I marvel that other back yards are not +filled with the bones of stupid, tactless, +irritating wives. The fact that no such +horror has as yet been unearthed, bears +eloquent testimony to the noble self-control +and patience of many of the sterner sex.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that sounds well,” said my neighbor, +over the way, “but then you forget +we women have our trials too.”</p> + +<p>“Is it going to diminish those trials to +make a raging lion out of your husband?”</p> + +<p>“No, but he ought to understand that +we are tired, and that our work is hard.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” I said, “by all means; and +by the time he thoroughly understands, +you generally have occasion to be still +more tired.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what would you do?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what I’d do; follow the +advice of a sensible little friend of mine, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>who has four children all of an age, and +has incompetent service to rely on, when +she has any at all.”</p> + +<p>“And what is that, pray?”</p> + +<p>“She says that come rain, hail, or fiery +vapor, she takes a nap every day.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know how she manages it; I +can’t, and I have one less child than she, +and a fairly good maid.”</p> + +<p>“Her children are trained, as children +should be; the three younger ones take +long naps after luncheon, and while they +are sleeping, she gives the oldest child +some picture book to look at, and simple +stories to read, and she herself goes to +sleep in the same room with him. The +little fellow keeps as still as a mouse.”</p> + +<p>“I think that is a cruel shame.”</p> + +<p>“So do I. It would be far kinder if she +let him have his liberty, and stayed up to +take care of him, and then became so tired +out that, by the time her husband came +home she would be unable to keep her +mouth (closed for it is only a well rested +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>woman who can maintain a cheerful +silence), and avoid a family quarrel.”</p> + +<p>“No, I think it’s better not to quarrel, +but I can’t take a nap, and often I’m so +tired when Fred comes home, that, if he +happens to be tired too, it’s just like putting +fire to gunpowder.”</p> + +<p>I knew that, for I had heard the explosions +from across the street. You know +in our climate, in the summer, people +practically live in the street, with every +window and door open; your neighbor has +full possession of all remarks above E. +And most of Mr. and Mrs. Purblind’s +notes on the tired nights, are above E.</p> + +<p>I have no patience with that woman, +anyhow. She hasn’t the first idea of comfort +and good cheer. Her rooms are always +in disorder, and there is no suggestion +of harmony in the furniture (on the +contrary every article seems, as the French +say, to be swearing at every other article); +all her lights are high—why, I’ve run in +there of an evening and found that man +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>wandering around like an uneasy ghost, +trying to find some easy spot in which he +could sit down, and read his paper comfortably. +He didn’t know what was the +matter—the poor wretches don’t, but he +was like a cat on an unswept hearth.</p> + +<p>In contrast to this woman’s stupidity, +I have the natural loveliness of the little +brown thrush, on my one side, and the +hoary-headed wisdom of Mrs. Owl, on my +other side.</p> + +<p>Look at the latter a moment. Not +worth looking at, you say; angular, without +beauty of form or feature. Nothing +but the humorous curve to her lips, and +the twinkle in her eye, to attract one; +nothing, unless it were a general air of +neatness, intelligence, and good humor.</p> + +<p>But I assure you that woman’s worth +living with if she is not worth looking at!</p> + +<p>Now her spouse is one of those lowering +fellows, the kind that seems to be at outs +with mankind. Just the material to become +sulky in any but the most skillful +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>hands, the sort to degenerate into a positive +brute, in such blundering hands as +Mrs. Purblind’s over the way.</p> + +<p>I had a chance to watch this man one +evening last summer. Having no domestic +affairs of my own, as a matter of course I +feel myself entitled to share my neighbors’. +And this particular evening I was lonely. +It was a nasty night, the fog blown in from +the lake slapped one rudely in the face +every time one looked out, and the air was +as raw as a new wound—it went clear to +the bone.</p> + +<p>Now on such a night as this I have +known Mrs. Purblind to serve her lord +cold veal and lettuce, simple because it was +July, and a suitable time for heat. And +I assure you that sufficient heat was generated +before this cold supper was consumed. +But to return to Mrs. Owl, on +that particular night. I saw her watching +at door and window, for her partner was +late. I peeped into the parlor, and it was +as cosy and inviting as a glowing fire, a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>shaded lamp, and a comfortable sofa +wheeled near the table, could make it.</p> + +<p>By and by, he came glowering along. +What will she say, I asked myself. Will +it be:</p> + +<p>“Oh, how late you are! What’s the +matter? What kept you? Well, come in, +you must be cold. Lie down on the sofa +while I get supper, but don’t put your feet +up till I get a paper for them to rest on.”</p> + +<p>All this would have answered well +enough with a decent sort of a man, but +this homo required peculiar treatment.</p> + +<p>It was what she didn’t say that was +most remarkable.</p> + +<p>After a cheerful “How-de-do” she didn’t +speak a word for some time, but walked +into the house humming a lively air, and +busied herself with his supper. She didn’t +set this in the dining room, but right before +that open fire. Without any fuss or +commotion she broiled a piece of steak +over those glowing coals, while over her +big lamp she made a cup of coffee, and in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>her chafing dish prepared some creamed +potatoes. She had bread and butter ready, +and some little dessert, and so with a wave +of a fairy wand, as it seemed, there was +the cosiest, most tempting little supper you +ever saw on the table at his side.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he had found the sofa, +the fire, and the lamp, and was reading +his paper. He threw the latter down +when supper was announced, and she +joined him at the table; poured his coffee, +ate a bit now and then for company, +and talked—why, how that woman did +talk! I couldn’t hear a word that she said, +but I knew by the expression of her face it +was humorous; and laugh, how she +laughed! and erelong he joined in—why, +once he leaned back, and actually ha-haed.</p> + +<p>When supper was over, she left him to +his paper again, while she cleared everything +away. Later on she joined him, +and the next I knew they were playing +chess, and still later, talking and reading +aloud.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>This is but a sample of her life with him—in +everything she consults his mood, his +comfort, his tastes. She never jars him—never +rubs him the wrong way, and meanwhile +she has all she wants, for she can do +anything with him, and he thinks the sun +rises and sets with her.</p> + +<p>It is a good cook that makes an appetizing +dish out of poor material, and when a +woman makes a delicious husband out of +little or nothing she may rank as a <i>chef</i>.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +<a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">You</span> may say all I have been describing +belongs more properly to little Mrs. +Thrush, on my right. Bless you! that +woman doesn’t have to think and plan to +make things comfortable. Were she set +down in the desert of Sahara, she would +sweep it up, spread a rug; hang a few +draperies, and lo! it would be cosy and +home-like. She can’t help being and doing +just right, wherever she is put, and her +husband is just like her, as good as gold. +Why, that man would bore a woman of +ingenuity—a woman who had a genius for +contriving and managing. He doesn’t +need any cooking; he’s ready to serve just +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>as he is, couldn’t be improved. There’s +absolutely nothing to be done. Mrs. Owl +would get a divorce from him inside of a +month, on the ground of insipidity. Her +fine capabilities for making much out of +nothing, would turn saffron for lack of +use. Mr. Owl is the mate for her. To +every man according to his taste; to every +woman according to her need.</p> + +<p>I am lying in the hammock, under the +soft maple tree in my side yard, speculating +on all these matters. Summer is now +upon us, for we are in the midst of June. +Yesterday was one of Lowell’s rare days, +but this morning the thermometer took +offense, and rose in fury. I can see the +quivering air as it radiates from the dusty, +sun-beaten road, and a certain drowsy +hum in the atmosphere, palpable only to +the trained ear, tells of the great heat. +Some of my neighbors are sitting on their +galleries, reading or sewing; some, like +myself, are lolling in hammocks; even the +voices of the children have a certain monotonous +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>tone, in harmony with the stupid +heaviness of the day. Only the birds and +squirrels show any life or spirit; the former +are twittering above my head, courting, it +may be, or possibly discussing some detail +of household economy. They hop from +bough to bough, touch up their plumage, +and chirp in a cheerful, happy sort of +fashion, as if this was their especial +weather, as indeed it is. Up yonder tree, +a squirrel is racing about, in the exuberance +of his glee. He has done up his +work, no doubt, and now is off for a frolic. +I lie here, not a stone’s throw from him, +watching his merry antics, and rejoicing +to think how free from fear he is, when all +at once the leaves of his tree are cut by a +flying missile, and the next second I see my +gay fellow tumble headlong from the +bough, and fall in a helpless little heap on +the grass. I start up in affright, and hear +a passing boy call out to another, over the +way,</p> + +<p>“I brought him down, Jim.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>Involuntarily I clinch my hands.</p> + +<p>“You little coward!” I exclaim, “it is +<i>you</i> who should be brought down! You +are too mean to live.”</p> + +<p>He laughs brutally, and goes on, whistling +indifferently, while I pick up the dead +squirrel lying at my feet.</p> + +<p>I find myself crying, before I know it. +Not alone with pity for the squirrel; something +else is hurting me.</p> + +<p>“Is this the masculine nature?” I ask +some one—I don’t know whom.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it is one of those questions +which are flung upward, in a blind kind of +way, and which God sometimes catches +and answers.</p> + +<p>“Are they made this way? Was it +meant that they should be brutal?”</p> + +<p>I am still holding the squirrel and thinking, +when I hear my name, and turning +see my neighbor over the way, Mrs. Purblind’s +brother, standing near me.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Chance,” I say, +rather coldly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>All men are hateful to me at that moment; +to my mind they all have that boy’s +nature, though they keep it under cover +until they know you well, or have you in +their power.</p> + +<p>“The little fellow is dead, I suppose,” +he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I answer with a sob which I +turn away to conceal. I don’t wish to excite +his mirth. Of course he would only +see something laughable in my grief, and +he couldn’t dream what I am thinking +about.</p> + +<p>“You mustn’t be too hard on the boy, +Miss Leigh,” he says quietly; “it was a +brutal act, but that same aggressiveness +will one day give him power to battle in +life against difficulties and temptations as +well. It will make him able to protect +those whom a kind Providence may put in +his charge. Just now he doesn’t know +what to do with the force, and evidently +has not had good teaching. I’m sorry he +did this; it hurts me to see an innocent +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>creature harmed, and still more I am sorry +because it has hurt you.”</p> + +<p>He is standing near me now, and as I +raise my eyes, I find him looking at me +with a sweet earnestness, that wins me not +only to forgive him for being a man, but +to feel that perhaps men are noble, after +all.</p> + +<p>His look and tone linger with me long +after he has gone, as a cadence of music +may vibrate through the soul when both +musician and instrument are mute.</p> + +<p>The day after this of which I have been +telling, I went to a picnic gotten up by +Mrs. Purblind, for the entertainment and +delectation of Mr. Purblind’s cousin, now +visiting her, a frivolous young thing, between +whom and myself there was not +even the weather in common, for she +would label “simply horrid” a lovely gray +day, containing all sorts of possibilities for +the imagination behind its mists and +clouds.</p> + +<p>I didn’t care for this picnic, and didn’t +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>see why I was invited as most of the +guests were younger than myself. But it +was one of those cases where a refusal +might be misconstrued, and so I went. +We sat around the white tablecloth <i>en +masse</i>, for dinner; and in the course of the +passing of viands, Miss Sprig was asked +to help herself to olives that happened to +be near her.</p> + +<p>“Yes, do, while you have opportunity,” +said Mrs. Purblind.</p> + +<p>“I always embrace opportunity,” replied +Miss Sprig with a simper. Whereat Mr. +Chance, sitting next her, suggested that, +as a synonym of opportunity, possibly he +might stand in its stead.</p> + +<p>I detest such speeches, they are properly +termed soft, for they certainly are mushy—lacking +in stamina—fiber of any sort. +But I could have endured it, as I had endured +much else of the same sort that day, +had it not come from Mr. Chance. It +may be foolish of me, but his tone and his +words of the day before were still with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>me. They were so dignified, so sensible, +so manly, that I respected and admired +him. Up to that time I had not felt that +I knew him, but after he spoke in that +way, it seemed as if we were acquainted. +Now I saw how utterly mistaken I had +been, and I was mortified and disgusted.</p> + +<p>The silly little speech I have quoted +was not all, by any means; there were +more of the same kind, and actions that +corresponded. Evidently he was one of +those instruments which are played upon at +will by the passing zephyr. With a self-respecting +woman, he was manly; with a +vapid, bold girl, he was silly and familiar. +I decided that I liked something more +stable, something that could be depended +upon.</p> + +<p>I was placed in a difficult position just +then. Had I acted upon my impulse, I +should have risen and walked off—such +conduct is an affront to womanhood, I +think; but I was held in my place by a +fear—foolish, yet grounded, that my action +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>would be regarded as an expression of +jealousy, the jealousy of an old maid, of a +woman much younger and prettier than +herself. This is but one of the many instances +of the injustice of the world. I +don’t think that I am addicted to jealousy, +but I may not know myself. Possibly I +might have felt jealous had I been eclipsed +by a beautiful or gifted woman, but it +would be impossible for me to experience +any such emotion on seeing a man with +whom I have but a slight acquaintance, +devote himself to a girl whom I should +regard as not only my mental inferior, but +also as beneath me morally and socially as +well. The only sensation of which I was +cognizant was a disgust toward the man, +and mortification over the mistaken estimate +of his character, that had led me, the +day before, to suppose him on a footing +with myself.</p> + +<p>As soon as possible after dinner I +slipped away for a stroll. The place was +very lovely, and I felt that if I could creep +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>off with Mother Nature, she would smooth +some cross-grained, fretful wrinkles that +were gathering in my mind, and were saddening +my soul. So when the folly and +jesting were at their height I dipped into +the thicket near at hand, and dodging here +and there, jumping fallen logs, and untangling +my way among the vines which +embraced the stern old woods like seductive +sirens, I at last struck a shaded path, +which erelong led me down through a +ravine to the waters of the big old lake. +It too had dined, but instead of yielding +itself to folly, was taking its siesta. +Across its tranquil bosom the zephyrs +played, stirring ripples and tiny eddies, as +dreams may stir lights and shadows on the +sleeping face.</p> + +<p>I had not walked along the beach, with +the waves sighing at my feet, and whispering +all sorts of soothing nothings, for a +great distance, before I began to experience +that uncomfortable reaction which sometimes +arises from splitting in two, as it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>were, standing off at a distance and looking +oneself in the face. I realized that I +had been something of a prig and considerable +of a Pharisee. My late discomfort +was not caused by the fact that a young +girl had cheapened herself, but by the fact +that a man had demeaned himself and in +a manner involved me, inasmuch as I had +been led the day before by a false estimate +of his character to regard him as my social +equal. After all it was this last that hurt +most; it was my little self and not my +brother about whom I was chiefly concerned.</p> + +<p>I am not naturally sentimental or morbid, +so I merely decided that internally I +had made a goose of myself and not shown +any surplus of nobility; and with a little +sigh of satisfaction that I had given the +small world about me no sign of my folly, +I dismissed the subject and betook myself +to an eager enjoyment of the day.</p> + +<p>The soft June breeze played with my +hair and gently and affectionately touched +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>my face; the lake quivering and rippling +with passing emotions stretched away from +me toward that other shore which it kept +secreted somewhere on its farther side. +The very sight of it, with its shimmering +greens, turquoise blue, and tawny yellow, +cooled and soothed me, and ere I knew it, +I had slipped into a pleasant, active speculation +on matters of larger interest than +the petty subjects which had lined my +brow a moment before. I was walking +directly toward one of my families, and it +occurred to me that I might run in and +make a call, while I was near at hand. I +had first become interested in them at +church. I was impressed by their cleanliness +and regularity of attendance, and by +a certain judicious arrangement of their +children—the parents always sitting so as +to separate the latter by their authority +and order.</p> + +<p>Another point that claimed my attention +was that the children were changed +each Sunday—a fresh three succeeding the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>first bunch, and on the third Sunday, one +of the first three being added to a fresh +two, to make up the proper complement. +Both parents had a self-respecting, self-sacrificing +look, as of people who had +learned to help themselves cautiously from +the family dish, and to “put their knives +to their throats” before time; but kept all +this to themselves, asking nothing from +anyone, and making their little answer +without murmur or complaint. I had, +for some time, realized that the child who +was now getting more than his share of +sermons, by reappearing on the third Sunday, +would soon be reduced to the level of +his brethren, and a new relative would +take the place which he had been filling as +a matter of accommodation. I sought +occasion to make the acquaintance of the +mother of this fine brood, on the pretext of +some church work, and after that became +a regular visitor at their little home. The +perfect equality of the parents; the deference +with which they treated one another; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>and their quiet happiness, in spite of all +labor and privation, made me realize that +they might well extend a pitying thought +to some of the apparently wealthy members +of the church. We may yet live to +see the day when a new scale shall come in +vogue, and some Cr[oe]sus who now stands +in an enviable light, shall then pass into his +true position, and become an object of pity. +Mere dollars and cents are a misleading +criterion of poverty and wealth.</p> + +<p>I had seen my friends, and found that +the mother and her new nestling were in +comparative comfort, and I was on the +homeward stretch along the beach, when I +saw Mr. Chance walking toward me.</p> + +<p>“I was commissioned to look you up,” +he said.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” I replied, “I have been +of age for some years.”</p> + +<p>Of course he noticed the coolness in my +voice, and in some way I divined that he +knew the cause.</p> + +<p>We went aboard our homeward-bound +train about 5 o’clock.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>Mr. Chance helped me on, and evidently +expected to sit with me, but I thwarted +him by dropping down beside an elderly +lady, an acquaintance who happened to be +in that coach. I felt no grudge against +him, but I didn’t care to have him pass +from such a girl as Miss Sprig to me; his +conduct with her impaired his value somewhat +in my eyes. My elderly friend saw +and recognized the situation, I am sure, +and governed her later remarks accordingly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chance passed on, and took a seat +with one of the superfluous men, for contrary +to the rule on most such occasions, +the male gender was in excess of the +female. I had not expected him to return +to Miss Sprig; men always become satiated +with such girls, soon or late.</p> + +<p>My elderly acquaintance entered upon +an animated conversation, that became +more and more personal, and finally +reached a climax when she leaned over, +and said in a semi-whisper:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>“My dear Miss Leigh, you ought to +marry.”</p> + +<p>I had been told this a number of times; +any one would suppose, to listen to some +of these women, that I had but to put out +my hand, and pluck a man from the nearest +bush.</p> + +<p>“I don’t doubt you will marry some day, +but I’m afraid you may not choose wisely”—here +she lowered her voice again—“after +a man reaches thirty-five he becomes very +fixed in his ways, and I don’t think it’s +safe for a maiden lady to try to manage +him; it needs some one of more experience.”</p> + +<p>I knew she had Mr. Chance in mind, +and I was so indignant at being warned +against a man who had never shown the +first symptom of any such folly as addressing +me, that the blood mounted to my +hair.</p> + +<p>Observing this, my elderly companion +whispered:</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t thinking of any one, in particular, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>my dear;” upon which I grew more +enraged, and the color in my face deepened +until I must have resembled an irate old +turkey gobbler—“not of any one in particular, +my dear; but on general principles, +I shouldn’t advise such a match. A widower +would be just the thing for you, and there +always are widowers, and every year the +list grows—death makes inroads, you +know.”</p> + +<p>This idea, this hope of a second crop, as +I had passed beyond the first picking, was +comforting. I knew perfectly well whom +she had in mind for me—a nice fat little +widower, about fifty years old, who had +been held on the marital spit, until he was +done to a turn.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +<a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> summer was ended, and I was not +married. I am speaking now from the +standpoint of my neighbors; to my mind +life did not swing on this hinge. I had +my occupations—there were a goodly number +of needy folk to be looked after; there +was my reading; my music; my friends, +and other pleasures, and altogether I felt I +was very well off. Not that I was cynically +opposed to marriage; I intended to +marry, if the right man called, but if he +did not I was content to end life as I had +begun it—in single blessedness.</p> + +<p>My neighbors, however, were of another +mind—I must marry; and they kept making +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>efforts to find some one who would +fit, trying on one man after another, without +his consent or mine, something as one +would attempt to force clothes on a savage.</p> + +<p>But in spite of all such friendly offices +the summer was ended, and I was not +married. I was thinking of it on this particular +day, as I stood gazing from the +window—thinking of it with a sort of +quiet wonder, for with an entire neighborhood +intent upon this end, it was rather +surprising that I was not double by this +time. Had they succeeded I should now +occupy a very different attitude. It is +only old bachelors and old maids who +speculate and theorize on marriage; when +people are really about it, they say little, +and (it would often appear) think less.</p> + +<p>It was a day for speculation—this particular +one; the dead leaves were scurrying +up the street as people ran for a +train; a gusty wind was carrying all before +it for the time being, like an overbearing +debater. The trees shook and groaned, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>recoiled and shuddered, like human creatures +in the blast; in their agitation dropping +hosts of leaves that immediately +slipped under covert, or else joined their +fellows in the race up town. The sky was +non-committal, and the lake looked dark +and secretive, as if it meditated wreck and +disaster.</p> + +<p>It was only the middle of September, +but there had been several of these days—a +hint, perchance, of what was to come by +and by, as a gay waltz strain sometimes +dips into real life, and makes one look inward +for a moment.</p> + +<p>The house did not invite me just at this +time, and the elements did; at least I felt +that rising within me which tempted me +forth to have a bout with them.</p> + +<p>I was walking at a goodly pace along +the Boulevard—for I love the lake in +all its moods—when two men with anxious +faces overtook, and hurried past me.</p> + +<p>“There’s been a wreck, miss,” one of +them—a man I knew—called back.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>I quickened my pace, trying to peer +through the sullen fog, as I ran. The +occasional dull boom of a gun called +“Help,” from out the grayness, with +pathetic persistency. Soon another sound +caught my ear, or rather vibrated through +my frame, for the ground beneath me +seemed to tremble, and I turned to see the +swift oncoming of the life-saving crew +from a station below us.</p> + +<p>I had barely time to jump one side, before +the huge wagon, bearing the boat and +its men, swept past me, every one of those +splendid horses with his head lowered, and +his fine muscles set for the race.</p> + +<p>It was all done with the celerity and +ease with which things are accomplished +in dreams. The sudden halting of the big +wagon; the swinging of the boat to the +ground; the swift donning of the yellow +oilskin suits by the crew; the launch, and +before one had time to wink, the strong +strokes in perfect time, that bore the boat +up and down, and up again, on those +tumultuous waves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>There were other spectators beside myself, +standing with strained sight and +hearing, and throbbing hearts, upon the +strip of beach. And there were other +workers beside the crew. I had thought +we were a small community out there in +the little suburb, and I gazed with wonder +that morning at the crowd which seemed +to have dropped from the sky, or come up +from below.</p> + +<p>The men were chiefly from the middle +and laboring classes, for the others go in +on early trains, but Randolph Chance was +there, his newspaper work giving him his +mornings. We spoke to one another, but +entered into no conversation. My thought +was with the doomed ship, and so was +his.</p> + +<p>“Will any of you boys join me in taking +off some of those people?” he asked the +men at hand.</p> + +<p>“It’s a rough sea, Mr. Chance.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, but I understand boating; +I guess we can manage it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>“Don’t you think the life-saving crew +can do the work?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” he answered shortly, “there won’t +be time for them to make enough trips. +Come, boys, here she goes! Jump in, a half +dozen of you that can pull oars.”</p> + +<p>There were boats enough, and soon +there were men enough, for the human +heart is kind and brave, and under a good +leader men will walk up to Death himself +without flinching.</p> + +<p>Randolph Chance was big and strong, +alert, and self controlled—a good leader. +I realized all this just now, as I had not +before, and I thought how strange it was +that so much goodness should be bound up +with so much folly. It was the old story +of the wheat and the tares; and I said: +“An enemy hath done this,” and then I +thought of Miss Sprig.</p> + +<p>I don’t like to dwell on that morning; +the experience was new to me, and I can’t +forget it; I can’t rid myself of the sound +of those shrieks when the ship went down. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>She struggled like a human creature under +a sudden blow—rocked, tottered, quivered, +and then collapsed.</p> + +<p>The little boats made five trips and +brought ashore almost all the passengers +and crew—all but one woman, and a little +child.</p> + +<p>I was one of the many who received the +chilled and frightened victims of the storm, +and indeed, as soon as we were able to dispose +of the more delicate and needy ones, +we turned our thought to the brave crews +of the little boats, for their exertions had +been almost superhuman, and they were +well-nigh exhausted.</p> + +<p>I bent over Randolph Chance, and +begged him to take a little brandy some +one had brought.</p> + +<p>“Give it to the women,” he said feebly.</p> + +<p>“They are all cared for; I’m going to +look out for you now, Mr. Chance.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t feel so done up,” he said, +“if it weren’t for that woman. She +begged me to save her, and she had a little +child in her arms,” and his voice broke.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>“You mustn’t think of her,” I said, +“you did all you could.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I did my best to reach her, but +before I could get there, she went down. +I can never forget her face. Oh, at such +a time a fellow can’t help wishing he were +just a little quicker, and just a little +stronger.”</p> + +<p>He had risen from the beach where he +had flung himself or fallen, on leaving the +boat, but he fell again. I could plainly +see that the exhaustion from which he +suffered was due as much to mental distress +as to physical effort, and I thought +no less of him for that.</p> + +<p>He was finally prevailed upon to get into +the wagon which had brought the life-saving +crew, and which was now loaded down +with the other boatmen, and many of the +passengers from the wreck, and so he was +taken home. And I walked back alone, +with a queer little feeling somewhere in +the region of my heart.</p> + +<p>Man, after all, is a harp, I said to myself; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>a good player—the right woman can +draw forth wonderful music, but the +wrong woman will call out nothing but +discords.</p> + +<p>Materials don’t count for everything; +there’s a deal in the cooking.</p> + +<p>I was on my way home, when I met +two of my neighbors hurrying toward the +scene—Mr. and Mrs. Daemon.</p> + +<p>“You’re too late,” I said, “it’s all over.”</p> + +<p>“I only heard of it a little while ago;” +said Mrs. Daemon; “I was in the city, and +I met Mr. Daemon who had just been told +there was a wreck off this shore, and was +coming out to see it, so we both took the +first train.”</p> + +<p>They hurried on, wishing to see what +they could, and I walked homeward.</p> + +<p>Their appearance had slipped into my +reflections as neatly as a good illustration +slips into a discourse. I must tell you +their story, and then see if you dare say +man is not a harp, and woman not a +harpist.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>Years ago, when I was a child, I used +to see my mother wax indignant over the +wrongs inflicted upon one of her neighbors—a +gentle little woman whose backbone +evidently needed restarching. She was +the mother of three children, and should +have been a most happy wife, for her tastes +were domestic—her devotion to her family +unbounded. Unhappily, she was wedded +to a man of overbearing, tyrannical temper—one +of those ugly natures in which +meanness is generated by devotion. The +more he realized his power over his poor +little wife, the more he bullied her, and +beneath this treatment she faded, day by +day, until finally she closed her tired, +pathetic eyes forever. My mother used to +say she had no doubt the man was overwhelmed +by her death, and would have +suffered from remorse, but for the injudicious +zeal of some of the neighbors, who +were so wrought up by this culmination of +years of injustice and cruelty, that they +attacked him fore and aft, as it were, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>creating a scandalous scene over the little +woman’s remains, accusing him of being +her murderer, and assigning him to the +warmest quarters in the nether world. +As a result of this outbreak of public opinion +the man hardened, and assumed a defiant +attitude which he continued to maintain +toward the neighbors for some years. +In the midst of all this furor, the sister of +the departed wife walked calm and still. +The power of the silent woman has often +been dwelt upon, but I really do not think +that half enough has been said, although I +am aware of committing an absurdity +when I recommend voluble speech on the +subject of silence. Jesting and paradoxes +aside, however, the silent woman wields a +power known only to the man toward +whom her silence is directed.</p> + +<p>In this particular case the power was all +for the best. Erelong the sister-in-law +obtained such mastery over the forlorn +household that she held not only the fate +of the little ones, but that of the father as +well, in the hollow of her hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>Two years slipped by, and then the +neighborhood that had dozed off, as it +were, awoke to hear that the sister was +going to marry that awful man.</p> + +<p>At once the vigilance committee arose, +and took the case in hand.</p> + +<p>“It can’t be possible,” it cried to the +woman.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is true,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Why, don’t you know that he killed +your sister?”</p> + +<p>“I know he did.”</p> + +<p>“And you are going to marry him, in +face of that?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’ll kill you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, he won’t kill me”—there was a +peculiar light in her eyes that puzzled them.</p> + +<p>“What can you want to marry such a +man for?” they cried, coming back to the +original question.</p> + +<p>“To keep the children. If I don’t marry +him, some one else will, and those children +will go out of my hands.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>Her devotion to the motherless brood +had been past praise. There was nothing +more to be said, and if there had been it +would have availed nothing, for the sister +had a mind of her own. She was one of +those handsome women, who walk this +earth like queens, and to whom lesser folk +defer.</p> + +<p>She married, and lo! the neighborhood +was agog once more, for strange stories +came floating from out that handsome +house, and it appeared for a time that instead +of his killing her she was like to kill +him.</p> + +<p>I remember one tale in particular, which +my mother who, by the way, was no gossip, +and was as peaceable as a barnyard +fowl, was in the habit of rehearsing before +a chosen few, occasionally, with a quiet +relish that was amusing, considering the +fact that ordinarily any comment on her +neighbors’ affairs was alien to her. It appeared +that after a short wedding trip, +during which the bridegroom had several +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>times shown the cloven foot, the couple +returned to their domicile. Probably the +maids who had lived there for some years +and were devoted to the new wife, had +been warned of what was coming. At all +events, they accepted everything as a matter +of course.</p> + +<p>Upon the evening of the married pair’s +return, a handsome dinner was served. +The train was a trifle behind time; the +day had been cold, and several other untoward +circumstances had conspired to let +loose the bridegroom’s natural depravity. +An overdone roast served to touch off this +inflammable material.</p> + +<p>“—— these servants!” he exclaimed; “I’ll +kick every one of them through the front +window! Look at that roast!”</p> + +<p>The doors being now open, a perfect +storm of ugly, evil tempers poured forth.</p> + +<p>At such times as these it was the custom +of wife number one to shiver, shrink, +implore—weep, then take the offending +roast from the room, and replace it by +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>something else which most likely was +hurled at her, in the end.</p> + +<p>The present Mrs. Daemon neither shivered +nor shrank. She knew what to expect +when she married this man, and she +was ready. The guns were loaded and +aimed, and they went off, and presto! the +enemy lay dead on the dining room floor.</p> + +<p>Instead of a roast beef solo, there was a +duet, Mrs. Daemon’s feminine soprano rising +above her husband’s masculine roar. +She agreed with what he said as to the disposition +of the servants, only adding that +she intended to hang them all, before he +put them through the front window.</p> + +<p>“To insult us during our honeymoon +with such a roast,” she cried; “and look +at this gravy! It’s even worse!”</p> + +<p>And with one swift stroke of her hand +she sent the gravy bowl flying from off +the table on to the handsome carpet.</p> + +<p>“In Heaven’s name, what are you +about?” he bawled.</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose I’d offer you such +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>gravy; it ought to be flung in their +faces.”</p> + +<p>He gasped and stammered; thought of +the recent wedding and regretted it; but +he was married now, and to an awful +shrew!</p> + +<p>Soon after dinner they repaired to the +drawing room. In turning from the fireplace +he stumbled against a large, elegant +vase.</p> + +<p>“Confound that thing!” he exclaimed, +“I always did hate those vases that set on +the floor.”</p> + +<p>“So do I!” she chimed in, and putting +out her foot with an expressive jerk, she +kicked it over, and broke it into a hundred +fragments.</p> + +<p>“Do you see what you’ve done?” he +cried, “have you forgotten that that vase +was a present from me?”</p> + +<p>“No, I haven’t, but we both hate it, and +what’s the use of keeping it?”</p> + +<p>This was but the beginning; from that +time on, let him but murmur against a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>dish, and it was flung on to the floor; torrents +of abuse were poured upon the head +of a maid with whom he found fault; +some of the handsomest furniture in the +house was broken, the moment it gave +offense to him. In no vehemence was he +alone—his wife’s anathemas and abuse +joined and exceeded his, until—he had +enough of it—an overdose, in fact, and erelong +he turned a corner—came out of Hurricane +Gulch into Peaceful Lane, and he +hoped the latter would know no turning. +The servants whispered of times when he +would tell his wife of guests invited to the +house, and entreat her not to make a scene +while they were there.</p> + +<p>Sixteen years have gone by, and this +woman is still above ground; stranger still +the man is alive as well; and strangest of +all, they are still under the same roof. +Indeed, if report and appearance are to be +trusted, Mr. Daemon is a model husband, +and Mrs. Daemon’s sudden and +amazing temper has spent itself and left +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>her a person of spirit indeed, but in nowise +unamiable, and least of all, an ugly character.</p> + +<p>No one who saw them walk past me, +arm in arm, that morning, on their way to +the wreck, would have dreamed of their +past.</p> + +<p>Truly, man <i>is</i> a harp, and truly, woman +does the harping.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +<a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> been wandering about to-day +in an apparently aimless fashion, but in +reality “musing upon many things.” Our +horror of shiftlessness, and our realization +of the responsibilities of life, and of the important +work Providence has kept saving +up for us, or perhaps “growing up” for us, +like Dick Swiviller’s future mate, is expressed +in the fact that if we take an hour’s +leisure, anywhere betwixt sunrise and sunset, +we feel under bonds to explain the +matter not only to our own souls, but also +to those other souls who live adjacent, and +take an everlasting interest in ours.</p> + +<p>Consequently, I told myself this day +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>that I was not well—that I had been overdoing, +and that I had best “go easy for +a spell.” After which concession to my +interior governor, I proceeded to apologize +to my neighbors; to call my dogs—not to +apologize to them, but to solicit their company—and +then to hie me away to the +lake, remembering to walk feebly as long +as I was in sight.</p> + +<p>I didn’t go down to the beach, but +plunged into the cool, comforting heart of +a ravine; fathomed its depths, with a feeling +of delightful seclusion, and came out +on the thither side, to find myself in the +glowing October woods.</p> + +<p>Ill? I never felt better in my life! +Good, rich streams of blood coursed +through my veins, and painted a warm +tint in my cheeks. At that moment I hope +I looked a trifle like Nature, who was in +the height of her being; in a sort of tropical +luxuriance, like a beautiful woman at +the very summit of maturity and perfection.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>I put out my hands toward a clump of +sumach—I was not cold, but its brilliant +warmth lured me as does a glowing fire. +It permeated my very being, and set my +soul a-throbbing.</p> + +<p>There had been rain, and then warmth, +and October had caught all the prismatic +colors of the drops of water, and was giving +them forth with Southern prodigality. +The birds bent over the swaying daisies, +and sang soft love-notes into their great, +dark eyes, while I looked on in an ecstasy +of wonder and delight—the gold of the +daisies, the gold of the sunlight, and the +glow in my heart, seeming in a way all +one—part and parcel of the munificence +and cheering love of the Father. It is a +glorious world, and it is glorious to live +therein. The very air about me—the air +I was breathing in, seemed to palpitate +color and brilliant beauty.</p> + +<p>I talked to Duke about it, and he looked +around him with a certain air of admiration +depicted on his noble, fond old face. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>Fanchon was frivolous, as usual, and +wanted to be running giddily about, hunting +rabbits and the like; but I made her sit +beside me, for it seemed a desecration +every time the October silence of those +woods was broken by aught save the +dropping of a ripened nut, or the whirr of +a homing bird.</p> + +<p>It was at the close of this mellow day +that I sat in my library alone, before a +hickory fire. Alone, did I say? Nay, +Mrs. Simpson sat before me in the opposite +rocker. You could not have seen her, or +heard her, but she was there, and was +complaining of Mr. Simpson, saying he +rarely ever invited her to go anywhere; +and as she talked I recalled a certain +evening when I had been her guest—included +in an invitation to attend a spectacular +entertainment given by the country +club, at a spot some distance from our +homes, and I said:</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Simpson, I can offer you some recipes +which I warrant you will work infallibly; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>but they are like the recipe for +determining the interior condition of eggs, +which says, put them in water; if they are +bad they will either sink or swim—I have +forgotten which. Now try this recipe I +am about to give you, and it will either +make Mr. Simpson unwilling to take a +step in the way of recreation without you, +or it will make him stalk forth by himself, +as lonely as a crocus in early March—I +have forgotten which; but try it often +enough, and you will learn.”</p> + + +<p class="recipe"><i>Recipe.</i></p> + +<p>“Fail to be ready at the appointed time, +and keep him waiting until he is either +raging or sullen; cudgel or dragoon the +children until their tempers are well on +edge. Then complain of the gait taken by +Mr. Simpson in order to catch the train; +declare frequently when aboard that you +are tired out, and are sorry you came. +After you reach the place, remark every +now and then that you don’t think the +entertainment amounts to much, and that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>you do think it was a piece of extravagance +to have given such a price for tickets to so-inferior +an exhibition. Next, declare that +you feel a draft, and are catching your +‘death of cold;’ interlard all this with frequent +directions to the children—admonitions +and complaints, and derogatory remarks +about Mr. Simpson’s appearance, +and wonder—oft-expressed and reiterated, +and put in the form of questions which +you insist upon his answering, as to why +he didn’t wear his other suit of clothes. +Finally, wind up the whole affair, by wishing +you were in bed, and announcing your +opinion that the trip didn’t pay, and you +are sure it will make you and the children +ill.</p> + +<p>“Try this faithfully, and it won’t fail to +accomplish something decided.”</p> + +<p>One more recipe.</p> + +<p>I was talking to Mrs. Purblind now; +Mrs. Simpson had had her fill, and gone +home; and Mrs. Purblind had taken her +place.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>You couldn’t have seen her—but that +doesn’t matter.</p> + + +<p class="recipe"><i>Recipe.</i></p> + +<p>“This is for making a man love to stay at +home with you, and inducing him to be +cheerful and companionable, or for making +him flee your presence as one would +flee a plague-stricken city: I’ve forgotten +which, but you will soon discover, if you +try it persistently.</p> + +<p>“Talk on disagreeable themes, talk persistently +and ceaselessly; never let up; the +more tired he may be the more steadily +you must talk, and the more irritating +your theme must be. Go to the gadfly; +consider her ways and be wise. Buzz, +buzz, buzz; sting, sting, sting.</p> + +<p>“On his worst nights, always select his +relatives for your theme; harp upon their +faults; their failures in life; their humiliations; +the unpleasant things people say of +them. Then if he waxes irritable, express +surprise; remind him how he used to talk +against these same relatives, and how +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>much trouble he gave them when he lived +at home; add that it’s plain now that he +has combined with his relatives against +you, and that you should be surprised if +he and they didn’t effect a separation. If +he is still in earshot, pass on to what he +once told you, beginning each remark +with:</p> + +<p>“You said that——</p> + +<p>“And then proceed to point out wherein +and howin he has utterly failed to make +good his promises. Further, if he is still +in the house, enlarge upon the change you +have noted in his conduct toward you—how +devoted he used to be, and how selfish +he has become. Next, tell him how well-dressed +other women are, and how little +you have on.</p> + +<p>“By this time, if not sooner, he will remember +that he has night work clamoring +for him at the office, or that his presence +at the club is absolutely necessary, and it +would be well for you to conclude your +remarks by observing that if he bangs the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>front door so hard every time he goes out, +he will loosen the hinges.”</p> + +<p>“Well now,” said Mrs. Purblind—the +invisible Mrs. Purblind (she always would +listen to reason, which is more than could +be said for the visible creature of that +name), “well now, I know well enough +when I go on that way, that it isn’t best +to do it; but the Evil One seems to enter +me, and I get going, and I couldn’t stop +unless I bit my tongue off.”</p> + +<p>“Bite it then,” I said, “and after that, +jump into the lake; were you once there, +your virtues would float, and your husband +would love them; but alive, your +virtues are beneath water, and your nagging +is always on top.”</p> + +<p>“But what is one to do? Supposing all +these things are true—supposing you suffer +from all these wrongs.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever right a wrong by setting +it before your husband in this way, and +at these times?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>“Did you ever improve your condition?”</p> + +<p>“No. But what would you do?”</p> + +<p>“Shut up. Dip deep into silence. In +the first place, when you find you have +poor material, take extra care in the cooking; +study the art; use all the skill you +can acquire, and finally, if that won’t do, +if it <i>positively</i> won’t—if you can’t make a +decent dish out of him, open the kitchen +door, and heave him into the ash-barrel, +and the ash-man will cart him away.”</p> + +<p>I have traveled a little in my life, and +have been entertained in various households. +I have seen wives who deserve +crowns of laurel, to compensate for the +crown of thorns they have worn for years; +but I have seen others, who had thorns +about them indeed, but they themselves +were not on the sharp end. Some +of these stupid, ignorant women fancied +they were doing everything possible to +make home pleasant, and wondered at +their failure. There they sat, prodding +their husbands with hat-pins, and grieved +over the poor wretches’ irritability.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>I recall a conversation I once overheard. +The husband arrived just at dinner time. +The wife heard him come in, and called to +him in a faint, dying voice, from the top +of the stairway—</p> + +<p>“George, is that you?”</p> + +<p>The answer was spiritless.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>The wife came downstairs.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, we can have dinner. I +don’t know that it’s ready, though; Bridget +has had a toothache all day, and she’s just +good-for-nothing.”</p> + +<p>All this in the same faded tone of +voice.</p> + +<p>The husband passed into the parlor, and +began to read the paper.</p> + +<p>The weary tongue of his feminine partner +wagged on, in a dreary sort of way.</p> + +<p>“I think these girls are so foolish; they +haven’t a bit of pluck. I’ve been trying to +persuade her to go to the dentist’s and +have her teeth out, but she won’t. I’m +just tired to death to-night, and there’s no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>end to the work; Bridget has been moaning +around all day—why her teeth——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, bother her teeth!”</p> + +<p>“Why, don’t you care to hear anything +that goes on at home, George?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care to hear about teeth that go +on at home; Bridget’s teeth especially. I +don’t care a rap for the whole set.”</p> + +<p>“How cross you are to-night, George! +when I’m so tired, too. Johnnie, your +face is dirty, go and wash it; be quick +now, for it’s time for dinner. I don’t +know that Bridget will ever call us. She’s +probably sitting out in the kitchen, nursing +her teeth; why she has five roots there, +and all of them so inflamed that——”</p> + +<p>“Bother her roots, I say!”</p> + +<p>“George, you are extremely irascible, +but that’s the way; I get no sympathy at +all.”</p> + +<p>“Not when you want it by the wholesale +for Bridget’s roots.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what should we talk about? I +don’t see how we can ever have conversation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>in the home, if you won’t listen to +anything.”</p> + +<p>And so they went on—the tired husband, +moody and irritable, and the tired wife, +loquacious about matters of no interest. +I felt sorry for her who spake, and him +who heard.</p> + +<p>A husband worn out with the cares and +worries of an unsatisfactory business day, +and a wife harrassed and fretted by overwork +and petty annoyances, could succeed in +talking pleasantly together only by the use +of will-power and principle. It would require +a big effort, but the effort would pay. +It would be one of the best investments a +married pair could make. The returns +would be quick and large. I wonder more +don’t deposit in this bank.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +<a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I had</span> not forgotten Mr. Chance. This +fact annoyed me excessively, since I saw +that he had forgotten me. A forgotten +man may remember a woman, and preserve +his self-respect, if not his merriment; +but when a forgotten woman remembers a +man, that is quite another thing. Not that +I was brooding over Mr. Chance—far from +it; I thought very little of him, in one way, +for I frequently saw him with Miss Sprig; +but in spite of all that, I could not quite +forget the impression he made upon me +the day those boys killed the gay little +squirrel, and again the day the poor mother +went down into the deep, dark water with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>her child held close to her agonized heart. +The feeling I experienced for him on that +awful day, was unique in my history. I +had never been an impressionable girl as +far as men were concerned—I was not an +impressionable woman. For me to carry +the thought of a man home with me—for +me to dwell upon this thought, and above +all to take pleasure in dwelling upon it, +meant more than it would have meant for +some women. That was as far as the +matter had gone, but it was far enough—too +far, considering his evident indifference, +and I was humiliated, for the first +time in my life, over my attitude toward a +man. This mortification induced me to +treat Mr. Chance even more coldly than I +should have done ordinarily, though his +trifling with Miss Sprig would have called +forth some coolness of conduct under any +circumstances.</p> + +<p>I had abundant opportunity to express +myself in this way, for Mr. Chance’s night +work necessitated late rising, and I saw +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>him to speak to him almost every morning. +Indeed, I took some pains to be in +my garden during the forenoon, and from +this vantage ground I could not only see +much that took place between himself and +Miss Sprig, but I also had opportunity to +speak with him as he passed my house, on +his way to the train.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Miss Sprig walked to the +station with him. He evidently absorbed +much of her time and thought, and she +evidently regarded him as her latest victim, +for she made him a common subject +of talk, and her entire acquaintance had +the pleasure of hearing the foolish things +he did and said. She always represented +him as deeply in love with her; I have no +doubt she really thought that he was.</p> + +<p>For my own part, I cared very little +whether he was in love, as it is called, or +not. If he had succumbed to such a shallow-pated, +bold, common girl, I felt contempt +for him, and this contempt was +deepened when I realized that he might be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>trifling with her. In any event it mortified +and angered me to think he had +been seen with me; (he had often called +upon me and we had been out together +several times), and that the old neighborhood +gossips had coupled our names. Now it +would be reported that Miss Sprig had cut +me out; if I was pleasant toward him, +they would wag their foolish old heads, +and whisper about my efforts to win him +back; if I was cool, they would shake +these same empty pates, and prattle about +my wounded affections. It was one of those +cases where you can’t possibly do the right +thing—I mean the thing that will silence +the clacking tongue: consequently, as luck +would have it, I plunged into the worst +possible course I could have taken, for +when Mrs. Catlin, who lived catacorner +from me, and who watched me as a cat +watches a mouse, said something one day +about Mr. Chance’s feeling bound to pay +attention to Mr. Purblind’s cousin, as long +as she was visiting there, and that she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>knew such a girl wasn’t to his taste, and +she was sure he would come to his senses +soon, I was so angry that I lost control of +my temper, and all control of my wits, +and blazed out with:</p> + +<p>“It’s none of my business or concern +whom he pays attention to, and for my part +I think they’re well mated.”</p> + +<p>Whereupon, realizing I had made a +perfect fool of myself, and that this speech +of mine would go the rounds of the suburb, +and I could never erase it from the village +mind—not if I lived a hundred sensible +years, I had much ado to withhold myself +from seizing a pot of bachelors’ buttons +that stood near, and breaking the whole +thing over Mrs. Catlin’s idiotic skull.</p> + +<p>It was on top of this pleasant interview +with Mrs. Catlin, that Mr. Chance came +over, and asked me to attend a concert +that evening with himself and Miss Sprig, +and he very narrowly avoided receiving +the bachelors’ buttons that Mrs. Catlin +had but just escaped.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>I strode indoors, and began packing +some of my effects, for I was resolved to +move that day, or the next. Not because +I had discovered I had such fools for +neighbors—I had always known that—but +because I had just discovered that they +had a fool for a neighbor.</p> + +<p>Worldly considerations prevailed with +me, and I took out the Penates that I had +slammed into a trunk, mended their +broken noses, and set them in place once +more; but I hid myself away for several +days, much as Moses was hidden, but for +a less dignified reason.</p> + +<p>After a time, I cooled off, and decided +to accept the world as it stood, and not to +rage because the millennium did not come +before I was fitted to enjoy it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purblind ran over one afternoon, +and I could see that she was far from +happy. I had noticed for some weeks +various changes in the direction of improvement, +in her care of her husband and +household. I had also noticed that Mr. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>Purblind’s conduct did not keep pace with +these improvements, but I fancied Mrs. +Purblind was not sharp enough to see or +sensitive enough to care. In this it seems +I erred, as I have in one, or perhaps two, +other directions during my life.</p> + +<p>As Mrs. Purblind, for the first time +since I have known her, didn’t seem to +care to talk, I took up a book at random, +and began reading aloud. As luck would +have it, I stumbled into some passages +descriptive of the ideal home, and before I +could stumble out again, the poor woman +burst into tears. I suppose that tender +little sentence served as the key that unlocked +the floodgates. As soon as her +grief had spent itself, she apologized, and +ascribed her tears to bad news in a letter +or something, and shortly afterward left. +I watched her walking down the street, +until my eyes were too dim to see her. It +grieved me sorely that the cause of her +sorrow was so deep, and so delicate that I +could not offer her my sympathy. Her tears +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>were piteous to me, and I wanted to take her +to my heart, and tell her how sorry I was +for her; but to do that would have been to +take advantage of her moment of weakness, +and that I could not—must not do. +So I let her go from me with merely a few +commonplace expressions of regret that +she had received disturbing news, while +all the time my heart was aching in unison +with hers, and I kept her with me in +thought, all day.</p> + +<p>I went down to the lake directly after +dinner; several things were troubling me, +and I wanted to lay my puzzled head on +Mother Nature’s bosom.</p> + +<p>My run down the steep sides of the bluff +set the blood to coursing smartly through +my veins, and a new and more cheerful +stream of thought to flowing.</p> + +<p>I was tired that night, and it was a luxury +to lie flat upon my back on the beach, listening +to the rhythmical thud of the big, long +wave at my feet, and the song of the stars +overhead. There is something unspeakably +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>tranquillizing in the studded dome of +heaven; there is also something unspeakably +sad. It bends over the struggling, +yearning, aching human heart, as a +mother, who has attained that peace which +is the outgrowth of suffering, bends over +the passion, the sobbing, and the despair +of her child.</p> + +<p>“Hush, hush, it is all for the best.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot—will not bear it!”</p> + +<p>“Hush, you know not what you say. +God’s hand is in it all.”</p> + +<p>“There is no God in this, or if there is, +He hates me!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, my child, He loves you with unutterable +love, and pities with unutterable +pity. Yet a little while, and the day shall +shine upon you; then you will know—a +little while.”</p> + +<p>I turned from the great vault above me, +and looked out upon the restive waters, +and as I turned I saw a shadowy Mrs. +Purblind sitting beside me on the beach, +and questioning with sad eyes and heart, +the stars that bent to listen.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>“I have tried,” she said; her face, usually +so thoughtless, tear-stained, and quivering.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know you have tried,” I answered; +“I have seen that!”</p> + +<p>“But he is just the same.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and will be for a long time, and +you will have to go on trying for years, if +you want to carry him back to the old +days,” I said.</p> + +<p>“That’s one of the hardest things in all +the world!” she cried passionately, “if we +stop doing right—the right stops with us, +but if we stop doing wrong and begin to +do right, the wrong goes on.”</p> + +<p>“Not for always,” I said, looking up to +the stars.</p> + +<p>“Oh, for so long!”</p> + +<p>The great dome rich with gems, and +deep with peace, bent over her, and by +and by her sobs ceased.</p> + +<p>“You are trying, I know,” I reiterated, +“but you don’t understand—you can’t, for +you have only a woman’s nature.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>“What should I have, pray?”</p> + +<p>“A woman’s, and a man’s, and a child’s, +to be a perfect wife and mother; that is, +you must be able to comprehend them all. +Your husband came home cross to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, irritable toward us all, and I so +hoped to have everything pleasant this +evening.”</p> + +<p>“He, too, had his hopes to-day, and they +were flung to the ground, and broken before +his eyes.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“The special agent of a company that +he has for a year been working to get, +has been in town.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know.”</p> + +<p>“Yesterday this agent led him to suppose +he was to be the favored one. All to-day +he has been working toward that end, +and near night he heard that this man had +gone, without even saying good-by. You +remember that Mr. Purblind left home in +a hurry this morning, with scarcely a bite +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>of breakfast; he took very little luncheon, +and——”</p> + +<p>“Well, we had dinner at the usual time, +if he’d said he was hungry, I’d have hurried +it.”</p> + +<p>“He was not hungry—he was much +more than that. Did you ever see a vessel +whose fuel is well-nigh exhausted drag +herself into port? What is the first thing +to be done?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know—replenish her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, put coal on board. Now when I +saw your husband walk up to his front +door, I said to myself, he needs coaling. +A good home should be a good coaling +station; remember that.”</p> + +<p>“But what of me?” she asked with some +impatience, “I, too, have my worries and +exertions—do I never need coaling?”</p> + +<p>“Frequently,” I answered.</p> + +<p>“Well, who is to coal me, I should like +to know?”</p> + +<p>“Yourself.”</p> + +<p>“That’s rather one-sided, I think. Why +shouldn’t my husband look to that?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>“My dear,” I said earnestly, “I never +knew but one man who saw when his wife +needed coaling, and attended to her wants. +When he died (for the gods loved him), it +was found that his shoulder-blades were +abnormally large—at least so the doctors +said, but I knew all the time that his wings +had budded.”</p> + +<p>“Well, this life is too much for me,” +murmured Mrs. Purblind drearily.</p> + +<p>“Then don’t attempt the next.”</p> + +<p>“I shan’t, if I can help it, and yet I’m +like to soon, for Mr. Purblind’s mother is +coming on a visit to us, and I know she’ll +worry the breath out of me.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t let her.”</p> + +<p>“How can I help it?”</p> + +<p>“By keeping the peace with her.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ve tried that before; I’ve done +everything I could for her, and deferred to +her, and ignored myself until I seemed to +fade out of existence, but it didn’t work.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, it did, for it made her ten +times as troublesome as before.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>“It certainly did, but what do you +mean?”</p> + +<p>“I mean that a mother-in-law is like a +child, in that she is spoiled by having her +own way.”</p> + +<p>“But what can I do?”</p> + +<p>“Walk calmly on, doing the best you +can, but recognizing your own authority +and dignity, and finally she will come to +recognize it. Be mistress of your own +household, and director of your own children—all +this quietly and pleasantly, but +without wavering, and in the end she will +respect and probably admire you, though +she will never think you do just right, or +are just the woman who ought to have +married her son.”</p> + +<p>“But I’ve always been in hopes of making +her love me as she loves her own +daughter.”</p> + +<p>“That is what every romantic woman +starts out with, but by and by, in the +storm and stress of domestic life, that ideal +is cast overboard, as a struggling ship +throws its extra cargo over the rail.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>“Why is it, I wonder, a man never +fights with his father-in-law. Men are +said to be naturally pugnacious.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a mistake, my dear; a man +would go several miles any day to +avoid a fuss; it is we women who delight +in scraps. A man occasionally has a little +set-to with the girl’s father, before he gains +his consent to the engagement, but once +he’s married, it’s the old lady he has to +train for, or I should say who trains for +him, because as a general thing it is she who +gives battle, not he. The real conflict, +however, takes place between the two +women—the wife and her mother-in-law. +If you want to see ‘de fur fly,’ as the +darkies say, you must always come over +to the feminine side of the house. Then +you’ll have your fill of explanations, expostulations, +and recriminations.”</p> + +<p>“Well, certainly I never had any trouble +with my father-in-law.”</p> + +<p>“Trouble! Do you know what I’d do, if +I had a troublesome father-in-law?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>“No—murder him?”</p> + +<p>“Murder him, indeed! Woman, have +you no mercantile instinct? That would +be like killing the goose that lays the +golden egg. Why, the first showman +would take the old gentleman off my +hands, and pay me a handsome price for +him. You must know that a troublesome +father-in-law is so rare that the public +would flock to see him. But you couldn’t +get anything for a troublesome mother-in-law. +There are too many families trying +to get rid of them, at any price. The sale +of parents-in-law is governed by the same +laws as other commodities, and these interfering, +mischief-making mothers-in-law +have become a drug in the market.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there is Mrs. Earnest, her +mother-in-law is a jewel.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, now you mention a most valuable +piece of property, for a woman like that—who +models her conduct on the pattern of +Aunt Betsey Trotwood, in David Copperfield’s +household, is a jewel of such magnitude +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>and brilliancy, that she will some day +be seen sparkling in Abraham’s bosom, +from a distance of millions of miles.”</p> + +<p>“Well, how would you cook mothers-in-law?”</p> + +<p>“Make a delicious dish of your husband +and then take a pinch—a good pinch—of +mother-in-law, and throw her in as ‘sass.’ +Speaking of this, remember that too many +cooks spoil the broth, and wife and mother-in-law +combined generally make a pretty +mess of the husband.”</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +<a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I was</span> feeling a trifle dull and heavy one +afternoon, and after several vain efforts to +do good work, decided that a vigorous +tramp would set my blood to flowing, and +the wheels of my thinking mill to revolving. +So out I started toward the lake, as +usual. There had been a storm off the +Michigan shore, and we were just beginning +to get evidence of it, in the big +waves that were tumbling on the beach, +I like the lake in this mood—in any mood, +indeed, but especially when it is rough and +wild.</p> + +<p>After quite a brisk tramp along, or near +the beach, I turned back; but before going +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>home again, I wished to come in closer +contact with the tumultuous waters. At +risk of being wet by the spray, which the +waves were tossing on high, much as an +excited horse tosses the foam from his +chafing mouth, I climbed around the little +bathing house, set on the shore end of the +pier, and then boldly walked out, and took +my seat in the midst of the tumult.</p> + +<p>The passion of the lake was magnificent; +far out—as far as eye could stretch—there +were oncoming waves; the clan was gathering, +and all in battle array. What an +overwhelming charge they made! Surely +no one could resist that onslaught. There +was no deliberation, as was usual with a +moderately heavy sea; no calm, inevitable +heaving of the water; no steady rising, +ever higher and higher, until it crested, +curved, and fell with a boom. There was +nothing of this to-day; no preparation; +everything was ready; the warriors, +armed and mounted, were already making +the attack.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>For a time I gloried in it all; even the +anger of the waves was more admirable +than terrific in my sight. It seemed as +though they interpreted my boldness as defiance, +and accepted the challenge. From +near, from far, they were coming, and all +upon me, or if that is taking too much to +myself, they were making their attack +upon the shore, meaning to claim it for +their own, and incidentally to sweep me, +a poor, insignificant atom, from their sight.</p> + +<p>By and by I found myself oppressed with +the desolation of the scene. As the day +waned, and the chill that foreshadows +night fell upon me, or rather rose upon me, +from the cold waters, I began to feel +lonely and unprotected. The waves +looked so hungry, so cruel; they reached +out and up toward me; they encircled +with the inevitable, as with a relentless +fate. I began to be afraid of them, and I +rose to go back to shore.</p> + +<p>Unlike the ocean, the lake is fixed; but +that day the increase of the waves, in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>height and fury, had the effect of a rising +tide. I realized that it would be very difficult +for me to get off the pier alone, and I +was more than relieved to see Randolph +Chance, who had come down for a look at +the lake before taking his train to the city. +He joined me without trouble; a man can +perform those feats so easily, whereas a +woman is physically hampered.</p> + +<p>“You’re in rather a bleak place, Miss +Leigh,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have just begun to realize that.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, we’ll manage to get off safely; +but you mustn’t mind a little wetting. +Just give yourself to me, and we’ll be on +shore in a minute.”</p> + +<p>I gladly did as he bade me; it was +luxury just then to have some one as +strong and capable as he take the reins. +He led me around the bathing house, and +then lifted me from the pier. As he set +me safely on the shore, his eyes met mine, +and his look was a revelation to me. I +was, for a moment, too startled to think, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>and the strangest sensation I ever experienced +crept over me. If a look could +speak, Randolph Chance—but I did not +put it into words—not then, at least, but it +was all very strange to me—most inexplicable.</p> + +<p>We walked on quietly, both, I dare say, +feeling our silence to be a trifle awkward. +It was for this reason that I decided to +shorten the time of our being together, by +stopping at the house of a friend. The +wetting I had received from the waves +did not amount to anything for one so +hardy as myself, so I was not deterred on +that account.</p> + +<p>The house where I stopped was a pleasant +resort for me. Both Mr. and Mrs. +Bachelor were interesting people. I had +known Mr. Bachelor for fifteen years. He +had once been one of our young men, as +the saying is, young merely in the sense +of being single, not in actual years, for at +the time I met him he was nearer the forty +than the thirty line. Nature seemed to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>have marked him for single—cussedness, I +had almost said, from the first. He was +no favorite with any set, being grumpy, +fussy, and peculiar. But five years after he +rose into sight above my horizon he married +a most sensible, lovely woman; not a +child, by the way, for she was almost +forty; and in less than no time, it +seemed to us, had a family of four children +about him, one following the other so +closely that the predecessor was all but +overtaken. At first we said among ourselves +that he must have borrowed these +infants, and stuck them up in his home for +appearance’s sake, in some such manner as +the proprietor of a summer hotel once +stuck a number of trees in his grounds, to +make a sandy, barren spot seem fertile +and enticing. But by and by we became +convinced that these little human shoots +were his very own, not alone because they +evinced some disagreeable crotchets similar +to his, but also because of the love he bore +them, and the change they wrought in his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>character and life. Even around court +the man was regarded differently; warmth +and esteem being extended him now in +place of the dislike he had formerly +aroused. He had never ceased to be a +study to me, and a certain flavor of +romance hung about his home—a delightful +flavor, that made it an attractive visiting +spot. So it was with considerable pleasure +that I called upon this particular day.</p> + +<p>I was shown into the parlor—a comfortable +room, back of which was a most home-like +apartment, called the study. As I sat +there, awaiting Mrs. Bachelor’s coming, I +noticed that her husband’s desk, which +stood in the center of the study, was +strewn with dolls, and paraphernalia closely +related thereto. My observations were interrupted +by the entrance of Mrs. Bachelor, +who welcomed me in her cordial, +cheery way. A minute later Mr. Bachelor +came in, and gave me what was for him, +a most friendly greeting. He excused +himself in a little while, and went into his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>study. He had, so his wife explained, +been ill with a cold for a day or two, and +had been working at home the while, to +make ready for the approaching trial of an +important case.</p> + +<p>Upon his entering the study, a scene +occurred which I shall endeavor to give you +as near to the life as possible. As a matter +of course he steered directly for his +desk, and his eye immediately fell upon a +quantity of grandchildren, variously disposed +thereon.</p> + +<p>“Well, I declare!” he exclaimed; “if +this isn’t outrageous!” and he gathered up +the whole crop—there were fully a dozen +dolls, in all stages of development, and +much doll furniture, and toggery of all +kinds.</p> + +<p>After dumping the obnoxious elements +on to a divan, he returned to his desk, and +with much grumbling sorted out his law-papers, +and went to work. But soon after +he had cleared his visage, as it were, his +small daughter—a pretty child, four years +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>old—ran into the room hugging two puggy +puppies, and two kittens of tender age. +It did not take her long to grasp the situation. +Running to the divan, she uttered a +series of cries, indicative both of alarm and +displeasure.</p> + +<p>“What—what—what is the matter?” +said Mr. Bachelor, who had probably forgotten +his offense by this time.</p> + +<p>“You naughty papa!” cried the child; +“what did you disturve my dollies for?”</p> + +<p>“What did you put them on my desk +for?” queried her father indignantly; +“the idea! I haven’t a spot on earth I can +call my own.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve just mussed their best frocks +all up,” continued the child, who, without +paying the slightest attention to her father’s +vigorous protest, was rapidly replacing her +family, puppies, kittens, and all, on the +desk.</p> + +<p>“I tell you I can’t have them here! I +have important papers around, and I must +be allowed to work in peace. Take them +off!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>He started to sweep them on to the floor, +but the little girl uttered a shriek.</p> + +<p>“Papa, papa, don’t,” she screamed. +Then, as he desisted, she added, “They’ve +just <i>dot</i> to be here—it’s the bestest, highest +table, and the little doggies and kitties +can’t jump off, and I’m doing to have a +tea-party with Mamie Williams. You +must put your nasty old papers somewhere +else.”</p> + +<p>“This is an outrage!” he exclaimed, +standing up and declaiming as if he were +in court; “this is imposition run riot; it +has reached a climax, and I’ll endure it no +longer. Evidently I have no rights that +even the smallest and youngest in the +household is bound to respect. It is a +notorious fact that I am ruled with a rod +of iron, and that even this baby of the +family flouts me. I say I will stand it no +longer. I have been held with a tight +rein, and a curb bit, but I will turn at +last.”</p> + +<p>In his excitement, his metaphors became +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>confused, horses and worms being all +mixed up in a heap.</p> + +<p>“Take the desk, take the whole of it, +and to-morrow I shall leave the house! I +shall go back to my bachelor quarters, +where I once lived in peace.”</p> + +<p>The child regarded him seriously, from +out her great, brown eyes.</p> + +<p>“Don’t go away, papa,” she said at +last, “you may have a little of your desk, +if you won’t take too much. I didn’t +mean to be cross at you,” she added, with +a pathetic quiver of her lip.</p> + +<p>“Well, well!” exclaimed the father hastily, +“there, there!” and he laid his hand +softly on her curly little head, “I guess +we’ll get on somehow; if I can have a part +of the desk, that’ll answer. It’s big enough +for two, I guess.”</p> + +<p>And he began moving his papers around.</p> + +<p>“Not there, papa,” said the little tyrant; +“no, that’s the sunny side, and little +bowwow must be there, ’cause he’s dot the +badest cold, and the kitties haven’t dot but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>little weeny eyes yet, and they <i>must</i> be +where it’s most lightest.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, well, where <i>may</i> I sit? I +must get to work.”</p> + +<p>“You may sit right there, and you +mustn’t fiddet, ’cause you’ll upset dolly’s +crib, if you do.”</p> + +<p>Soon he was safely bestowed, off on one +side, and as he obediently kept to his limitations, +all proceeded happily.</p> + +<p>During this domestic scrimmage, Mrs. +Bachelor went on chatting in her lively, +pleasant fashion with me, never betraying, +in any way, that she overheard the scene +in the study. I was so occupied with it, +that I could pay no heed to her remarks; +but she was a wise woman, and knew that +her husband was being cooked to a delicious +turn, and that any interference on her +part, would spoil the dish. I have since +learned that occasionally, when she sees +that the fire is really too hot for him, she +comes to his rescue.</p> + +<p>“If he sputters and fizzes, don’t be anxious; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>some husbands do this till they are +quite done.”</p> + +<p>Evidently Mrs. Bachelor has studied her +cook-book.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +<a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> little touch of sentiment that +flashed, as it were, from Randolph Chance +as he lifted me off the pier, was presently +blotted, as far as effect upon me was concerned, +by the return of Miss Sprig to the +Purblind household, and the renewal of +his attentions to her. At least I regarded +them as renewed, and I coldly turned my +back upon him, and let him go his way, +without further thought or speculation.</p> + +<p>I was daily becoming more interested in +another acquaintance—Mr. Gregory, a +man of years, whom I had known for +some time. He had been a visitor at our +house when my parents were living, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>had, from time to time, shown me friendly +attentions since their death. He frequently +invited me to places of entertainment, something +Randolph Chance seldom did, and in +many ways contributed to my comfort and +happiness. Single women are very dependent +upon their men friends for pleasures +of this sort; few of them care to go out at +night alone, and even when they go in +company with each other, the occasion +lacks a zest which belongs to it when a +woman has an escort. It is strange that +many men—many of those who believe in +the dependence of women, fall into the selfish +habit of going alone to theater, concert, +and lecture, and so force the women +of their acquaintance into a position which +their sentiments would seem to deprecate.</p> + +<p>While in no way obtrusive, or gushing +in his attentions, Mr. Gregory was most +thoughtful and kind, and few women are +without appreciation of conduct of this +type.</p> + +<p>Life flowed on with me with a quiet current. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>I was not a woman to make scenes +with myself or others, and my circumstances +were such as to permit of an undisturbed +tenor of way.</p> + +<p>One bright afternoon, just as I returned +from a long walk, Mrs. Purblind ran over +to see me, and soon afterward, Mrs. Cynic +dropped in. I never could bear this latter +woman; something malevolent seems to +emanate from her; something that is more +or less unhealthful to the moral nature of +all who come in contact with it, just as the +miasma from a swamp is poisonous to the +physical being.</p> + +<p>It chanced that I had just finished writing +a little story, drawn from the life-page +of my domestic experience; it was so endeared +to my memory that I was not like +to forget it, and yet, in the course of years, +its outlines would probably fade a trifle if +I did not take care to preserve their distinctness; +for that reason I had written it +out.</p> + +<p>I ought to have had better sense than to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>read anything of this kind to Mrs. Cynic. +In the presence of such people, that which +is fresh, beautiful, and holy withers, as a +cluster of dewy wild flowers is parched +and killed by the hot, sterile breath of a +furnace.</p> + +<p>Usually I have some judgment in such +matters, but that day all discretion seemed +to take wings.</p> + +<p>A remark of Mrs. Purblind’s led up to +the subject. This little woman can say +ugly things at times, but they are stung +out of her, as it were, by some particular +hurt, and are not the expression of her real +nature. She has a kind, good heart, +though her judgment and tact are somewhat +lacking.</p> + +<p>We happened to be speaking of men, +and something was said about their capacity +for devotion, when Mrs. Purblind exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Devotion! the masculine nature doesn’t +know the meaning of the word, unless it +is devotion to self.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>“I must read you a little story I’ve written +to-day. It’s a true one, remember—I +think I shall call it, ‘Devotion’.”</p> + +<p>I went to my desk, took out the manuscript, +and read as follows:</p> + +<p>“A few years ago I owned a pair of foxhounds. +Duke was the gentleman of the +family, and Lady was his consort, and a +lady she was indeed. I can hardly imagine +a human creature of greater intelligence +and refinement than this dumb +beast. The attachment between herself +and Duke was unique in its strength, and +in its demonstration. He was fully as +noble and as intelligent as she, but of a +less lively, cheerful temperament. The +arrival of six little Dukes was an occasion +of anxiety and excitement for us all, and +we were much relieved when the event +was safely over, and we saw Lady and her +beautiful family established in peace and +comfort. Matters had run smoothly for +about four or five weeks, when one day I +was startled by a series of sharp yelps, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>which I knew came from Lady. I ran to +the window, and saw the poor creature +rolling in the middle of the street, in the +greatest pain. By her side was Duke, and +his outcries mingled with hers. The hard-hearted +teamster, whose wagon had done +the mischief, had driven off, but I ran to +the rescue, and finally got her into the +stable, where her little ones were awaiting +her. She only lived a few hours, and her +last act was an effort to nurse her clamorous +doggies, while with her great, sad eyes +she seemed to say good-by to Duke! The +grief of this noble fellow was so great that +we thought he would go mad. For a time +he refused to let us come near her. He +stood over her, licking her senseless form, +pushing her gently once in a while with his +head and paws, and then uttering lamentable +cries when he saw that she did not +move, or in any way respond; and meanwhile +the tiny dogs were crawling over +her, and mingling their voices with their +father’s deep notes of distress. It was a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>most pitiable sight, and we all breathed a +sigh of relief when the dear old fellow permitted +us to lead him off into the house, +and we had an opportunity to dispose of +poor Lady. I’ll not try to tell of Duke’s +excitement and distress when he missed +her; of his frantic search all over the place, +and of how we followed him about, +and talked to him, and tried to divert him; +or how we all—Duke, and the rest of us, +finally sat down in the stable, beside the +motherless little family, and wept together.</p> + +<p>“The morning after Lady died, I went +out to the stable with a cup of warm milk. +I had not been able to do anything with +the puggy little dogs the evening before, +but I thought that their sharp hunger, +after several hours of abstinence, would +lead them to make an effort to drink. I +carried a spoon with me, also a rag to suck, +and a bottle, with a nipple—all kinds of +appliances, in fact.</p> + +<p>“What was my surprise upon entering +the stable, to find Duke occupying Lady’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>place. He was evidently trying to answer +the small dogs’ clamorous demand for +breakfast, and it was also plain that his +failure in this respect amazed and bewildered +him. He lay down just as he had +seen Lady do, and when this did not +suffice he tried another position; failing +again, he withdrew a few paces, and sat +for a moment in an attitude of profound +thought; returning soon, and trying another +device. This resulting unfavorably, +he made still another, and then another +attempt, and finally, grieved to the heart, +and worried by the hungry cries of the +small dogs, he withdrew once more, and +lifting his nose high in air, deliberately +yowled.</p> + +<p>“At this point I obtruded myself upon +the scene and went up to the dear old +dog, took his distressed head in my arms, +and talked to him. I explained to him the +difficulty of the situation; how, owing to +circumstances quite beyond his control, he +could not take Lady’s place. I urged +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>upon him that he must yield gracefully to +his limitations; showed him my appliances, +and then when I had soothed and interested +him, and he had consented to desist, +and let me try, I made my essay.</p> + +<p>“It was a study for an artist—my appealing, +pitying, impatient, scolding efforts to +induce those unreasonable little creatures +to accept a rag, or a bottle in place of a +mother. I shouldn’t have cared so much, +that is, I could have taken longer without +minding it, had it not been for Duke. His +anxiety was so great, and his distress over +their cries so keen, that I was quite unnerved, +and as is often the case, I showed +my concern by scolding and abusing the +objects in whose behalf I was exerting +myself.</p> + +<p>“I was all but ready to give up, when +one of the smallest and liveliest of the puppies +(a feminine creature, of course) suddenly +seized upon the nipple of the bottle +with a lusty grip, and sucked away till she +was all but strangled with milk. Her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>example was speedily followed by the +others, but before I had gone the rounds +Duke comprehended that our trials were +ended, and then—well, the dignified, sad-faced +old doggie took leave of his wits, +temporarily, as well as his dignity. He capered, +he rolled on the ground, he barked, +he bayed, he played leap-frog over my +head, did everything but stand on end, +and very nearly that, in his joy.</p> + +<p>“From that time on he never failed to be +present when his infants were fed, and +when I weaned them, and taught them to +drink, he was an interested spectator; +helpful too, for one time when a small dog +was obdurate, he took him by the nape of +the neck, and shook him thoroughly, before +turning him over to me for another +trial. On another occasion, the pig of the +family drank too deep, as it were, from +the flowing bowl, and might have been +drowned had it not been for his watchful +parent. Duke noticed that the small fore-quarters +were plunged into the liquid dinner; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>he also observed that the hind quarters +were slowly rising in midair. He watched +all this, with his accustomed, kindly gravity, +until the equilibrium was lost, and +Master Pup plunged into the pearly sea. +Then the startled father leaped to his feet, +snatched his offspring from a milky grave, +and laid him, sneezing and choking, sadder +and wiser, on the sunny grass-plat to +dry.</p> + +<p>“In due time Duke recovered, in a measure, +from his grief over Lady’s death, and +took unto himself another partner. As is +usual in the case of widowers, his second +choice was injudicious, for Fanchon was a +giddy, young thing, that didn’t have sense +enough to come in out of the rain.</p> + +<p>“But Duke saw no defects; he was all +tenderness and attention.</p> + +<p>“It was early winter, but the weather +was intensely cold, and we had taken +Duke and Fanchon in from the stable, and +had housed them comfortably in the cellar.</p> + +<p>“One night I was wakened out of a sound +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>sleep by cries of distress. I called my +sister and her husband, who were visiting +me, and in various costumes, all hands went +below. Fanchon was running about, crying +and moaning, and Duke was alternately +making frantic efforts to soothe her, and +kiyiying in a manner that was fearful to +hear. We succeeded at last in getting +Fanchon to heed us, and coaxed her to +settle down in a comfortable bed we made +for her on the far side of the cellar, where +she would have the benefit of the warmth +from the furnace, and would be out of the +way of the cold air which came in through +a window, broken the day before.</p> + +<p>“As soon as she was pacified, Duke was +again happy, and he cheerfully lay down +to rest. We retired to our rooms, and +being very weary, with much sightseeing +during the day, dropped into a sound sleep. +The next morning I hurried down into the +cellar, wondering whether I should see two +dogs, or a dozen. To my surprise and +dismay, I saw none at all. The cellar was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>silent and deserted. I opened the outer +door, and with a failing heart, stepped +into the clear, bitter cold of a temperature +something like fifteen degrees below zero. +Just around the corner of the house, in a +nook slightly sheltered from the biting air, +I came upon the family. Fanchon lay +upon the ground, the snow carefully +pushed up around her, and her clinging +little ones, who were taking their breakfast. +Over all—Fanchon and her puppies—covering +them with his faithful body—shielding +them with his never-failing love +and devotion, was my noble hound—as +noble, as faithful a dog, as ever man or +woman loved. I called to him, and rubbed +him, but all in vain, and meanwhile +stupid, silly Fanchon, that had foolishly +left her warm bed in the cellar, looked on +with cheerful indifference, and wagged +her tail.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Cynic, when I had +concluded the reading, “that story seems +to me to prove but one thing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>“And what is that, pray?” I asked, +realizing I had been foolish to read such a +tale to such an auditor.</p> + +<p>“Why, the truth of Madame de Staël’s +remark: ‘The more I see of men, the +more I admire dogs.’”</p> + +<p>That hateful woman! She always +leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. +I know she springs from some corrupt +ancestry. She has all the marks of inward +decay upon her.</p> + +<p>When she had gone, Mrs. Purblind and +I breathed more freely.</p> + +<p>“She doesn’t believe in anything good,” +said Mrs. Purblind.</p> + +<p>“No,” I answered in a tone of disgust, +“she has nothing within her to answer to +it.”</p> + +<p>“How different she is from Mrs. Earnest,” +continued Mrs. Purblind; “why, you +can hardly convince that woman that anyone +is really mean, and goodness knows +she has trouble enough to make her bitter. +What a husband she’s got! That man +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>makes me so mad! He’s ugly from sheer +badness.”</p> + +<p>I thought for a moment, and then I assented. +I really do believe that man is +ugly without cause. He and his wife live +at some distance from us, and I’ve often +visited them. I should like to give you a +scene to which I was witness one evening +when I was a trifle ill, and lay on a divan +just out of their dining room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Earnest is like a delicate flower +that lifts its pretty face and smiles in the +sunlight of love, but is bowed and broken +’neath the thunder-cloud and storm. She +longs to make her home attractive, but her +husband has no sympathy with this desire; +to him home is merely the place +where he finds food and lodging, and a +safety valve for such moods and tempers +as he is obliged to keep under control in +the business world.</p> + +<p>The efforts that this poor little wife +makes, in her timid way, to start up pleasant +subjects of conversation would move a +rock to tears.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>This is the scene, as I recall it—a specimen +scene.</p> + +<p>The family—husband, wife, and three +little children were at dinner, as I said.</p> + +<p>“What’s been happening to-day? anything +of interest?” asked the little wife.</p> + +<p>“Not that I know of,” was the gruff +reply.</p> + +<p>Silence, broken by the occasional sound +of eating implements, ensued.</p> + +<p>“Pass the bread, will you?” he said in +a short tone, directly.</p> + +<p>“See how you like this bread; we are +trying the entire wheat flour. I think it’s +very nice tasting, and they claim it’s rich +in nutrition. It’s warranted to make +blood, bone, and muscle—brain, too, I believe. +I’m going to eat several pounds a +day; I may astonish the world yet.”</p> + +<p>This feeble joke was received in stolid +silence, and the poor little wife crept into +her shell.</p> + +<p>After a time she peeped out again, and +made another effort.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>“I went to the womans’ club this afternoon; +Mrs. Pierson invited me. They +had a very interesting meeting; they +brought up the subject of smoke consumers. +I never realized before how much +property is ruined yearly by the smoke. +It does seem as if manufacturers ought to +use consumers.”</p> + +<p>At this point Bruin openly yawned, and +the little wife again retired. But with astonishing +elasticity of courage she issued +from her shell once more, this time with +the hope that a more masculine theme +would meet with some response.</p> + +<p>“They brought a petition around here +to-day for us to sign. It seems there is +some talk of flooring the reservoir and +using it as a beer garden this coming summer, +and the neighborhood has been called +upon to protest against it.”</p> + +<p>“I know all about that,” he growled.</p> + +<p>“Have you signed it?”</p> + +<p>“I have.”</p> + +<p>Again silence fell as a wet cloak upon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>them, and the little woman sat there racking +her brains, almost depleted by this +time, for the atmosphere which such a +man as that creates is warranted to dry +up all the intellectual juices.</p> + +<p>One more despairing effort. The children +had now left the table, so anecdotes +of them were in order. Probably the poor +little wife thought that this man could be +wakened into attention by a story about +one of his children.</p> + +<p>“Mamie asked me where cats went to +when they died. ‘They don’t go anywhere,’ +I said; ‘when they die, that’s the +end of them.’</p> + +<p>“‘Do they turn to dust?’ she asked.</p> + +<p>“‘Yes, just turn to dust,’ I said.</p> + +<p>“‘Why, then,’ she exclaimed, and her +eyes grew as big as saucers, ‘when horses +run ’long the streets, are they kicking up +cats?’”</p> + +<p>All the man said was, “Umph,” and the +little wife’s peal of merry laughter was +checked, and the ha ha’s grew fainter and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>spread farther and farther apart, until they +died away altogether, and I felt like charging +upon that burly, surly demon, and +butting him out of the window.</p> + +<p>“How would you serve such a man, if +you were his wife?” asked Mrs. Purblind.</p> + +<p>“<i>Roasted!</i>”</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +<a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gregory’s</span> attentions had become +an accepted fact in my life. They were +dignified and steadfast, and I received +them with a certain calm pleasure. They +had not, as yet, reached the point of declaration, +but it was clear to me, and to everyone +else, who knew anything about the +matter, that they were tending thither, +and my own thought had reached the point +of acceptance. I had the greatest respect +for him as a man; we were congenial in our +tastes, and personally agreeable to one another. +The position he had to offer me +was a most dignified, desirable one, as he +was not only a man of sterling integrity, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>but also a man of wealth; there was, in +short, everything in favor of the alliance, +and I looked upon it quietly, but with a +sense of substantial, and steadfast comfort.</p> + +<p>Such an event as a marriage cannot +even in prospect, face a thoughtful woman +without making a great change in her life. +Mr. Gregory was that type of man who +ought not to be allowed to offer himself in +a direction where there was no intention +of acceptance, for his character and age—he +was fifty or more—forbade all thought +of lightness or trifling, and gave one the +assurance that any marked attention he +might show, was significant. My acquaintance +with him had extended over +several years, and during this period there +had been abundant opportunity, on both +sides, for study of character.</p> + +<p>In a quiet way, I had been arranging +my affairs, preparatory to my expected +change in manner of life. I had, as a +matter of course, done considerable thinking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>during this time. I had experienced +none of the rapture always associated with +a romantic attachment, but I was quietly +happy, and this condition was a far more +natural one for me, with my cool, matter-of-fact +temperament—a far more promising +one, in respect to future enjoyment, I felt, +than something more ecstatic.</p> + +<p>I had seen but little of Mr. Chance for +some weeks. He had called several times, +but on each of these occasions, we had +passed a somewhat constrained, and I +thought, a rather dull evening. Just why +this constraint should have crept into our +intercourse when we seemed to be coming +to a better understanding than heretofore, +and were beginning to enjoy a warmer degree +of friendship than we had known, I +could not understand; but its presence was +undeniable, and it spoiled everything for +me, as far as he was concerned, causing +me to look upon his calls in the light of a +bore, rather than as a pleasure, as I once +had done. Occasionally a memory of that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>evening when he came to my rescue, as the +hungry, cruel waves gathered like wolves +about me, would flit across my mind, as a +shadow may flit across a sunlit hill. Once +in a long while I found myself dwelling +upon the look he gave me that night, and +this, and the memory of his touch, as he +lifted me off the pier, would dim the sunshine +of my cheerfulness. I could not +have explained this to myself, and I never +dwelt upon the thought; whether from disinclination, +or from fear, I could not tell. +I only knew that I always turned from it +abruptly, and passed on to my plans affecting +my life with Mr. Gregory. It was +quite easy to plan in this direction, for +there was nothing uncertain, as there +might have been in the case of a younger +man. Mr. Gregory was fixed in his tastes, +and way of life; I, too, at my age, had +formed settled habits, and this he knew; +but, fortunately, in most directions, we +were in harmony, and where we were not, +we had fallen into a way of making certain +concessions.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>So I had matters pretty well laid out; +all my theories, born of years of close observation +of affairs domestic, were now +brought to bear on my own future. +Secretly I esteemed myself a competent +cook, when a husband was the dish under +discussion. Mr. Gregory was not one to +require any very complicated wisdom in +the culinary art. A little gentle stewing; +no strong seasoning; no violent changes or +methods of any sort; but regularity, evenness; +quiet affection; respect; comfort, +and general conformance to taste and nature +would be necessary, and I felt myself +fully equal to it all.</p> + +<p>Matters had well-nigh culminated, for I +had received a note from Mr. Gregory asking +when I would be at home to him, and +saying that he had a matter of great moment +to both of us, to lay before me. I set +an evening, and then awaited his coming +without the slightest quickening of my +pulse, but with a serenity and cheerfulness +that appealed to my common sense as the +surest forecast of happiness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>Just at this juncture, a swift turn of the +wind-cock, or some imprudence of diet, +resulted in my taking cold—a most unusual +procedure for me, and at the time +of Mr. Gregory’s call I was unable to see +him, being confined to my bed, in the care +of a doctor, who was fighting a case of +threatened pneumonia.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gregory expressed his sincere regret, +and the next day called again, and +left flowers. These attentions were repeated +daily, and soon after hearing of my +improvement, he wrote me a letter in +which he said that which he had intended +to say on the evening of the day I fell ill. +He did not request a reply; in fact, he +asked me to withhold my answer until I +should be able to see him in person. It +would have been wiser, perhaps, he said, +to have postponed any word on the subject +until I had recovered, but he had found it +difficult to delay the expression of his feeling +toward me, and hence had written.</p> + +<p>This last rather surprised me, for Mr. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>Gregory had always seemed so unlikely to +be swayed by impulse, or carried, in the +slightest degree, beyond a point indicated +by his judgment. It simply went to prove +that the most regularly and smoothly laid-out +man, if one may so express it, has unsuspected +crooks and turns.</p> + +<p>I had no desire to answer the letter, +being perfectly able and willing to wait +until I should see him. In fact, instead of +hastening the time for my acceptance, I +rather delayed it, for I reached a point in +my convalescence, when I was able to go +down to the parlor, had I so wished, and +still did not.</p> + +<p>Each day of my illness, a lovely bouquet +of flowers had been left at my door. They +came direct from the greenhouse, and +were left without card, or sign of the +giver. I had an eccentric little friend who +was quite devoted to me, and was fond of +keeping her left hand in darkest ignorance +of the performances of its counterpart—the +right hand—and I attributed this delicate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>and beautiful token of sympathy and affection +to her; but, for some inexplicable reason, +every morning when the flowers were +brought to my room, and I took them in +my hand, a strange feeling came over me—a +feeling I had never had toward my +little friend.</p> + +<p>Over two weeks had passed, and I was +downstairs in the study. My nurse had +gone out, my housekeeper was busy, and +I was very lonely. I was standing at the +window, looking westward. The sun had +gone down in regal splendor. Some fête +was in progression in the sky, for the attendants +of the god of day were resplendent +in attire. They had been marshalled from +all quarters of the heavens, and their stately +and solemn procession, brilliant with the +most gorgeous red, royal purple, and dazzling +gold, had caused my heart to dilate +with awe and reverential admiration.</p> + +<p>The lake, stirred by the wonderful pageant, +caught the many hues as they dropped +from heaven, and tossed them on high in +joyous, iridescent waves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>The climax of majesty and beauty was +reached, and then the convocation broke +up—not suddenly, but slowly, and with +gracious dignity. The sun sank into the +waiting arms of the unknown; the lights +of heaven faded, and the clouds slowly +melted into dusk.</p> + +<p>The scene had stirred me as I am seldom +stirred, and with the oncoming of night +new thoughts and feelings rose from their +lair, as strange and beautiful wild animals +step from their caves into the deep mystery +of darkness.</p> + +<p>My neighbor next door—Mrs. Thrush, +sat on her broad, vine-clad gallery, rocking +her little child in her arms. By her +side sat her husband, with one arm thrown +across her lap. He had laid his paper +down, for the daylight was fading, and +perhaps his thought was too happy to +stoop to daily news. Softly the little wife +and mother sang; she had a sweet home +voice, and no music of orchestra ever +moved me as did her lullaby.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>I was at that moment an intensely +lonely woman. I thought of Mr. Gregory +and my future, and still I was lonely.</p> + +<p>Far away to the east there was a low, +long bank of clouds like a mountain range, +and as the poetry and melody of the lullaby +rose from the little nest on my left, +and stole into my thought, I saw a faint light +above this line; then a group of mist-like +clouds that moved toward me. Slowly the +gray haze, tinged with soft light, began +to resolve itself into shadowy forms, and +my heart stood still as, in some vague +way, I traced a connection between the +lullaby and the vision, and realized that a +message was coming to me.</p> + +<p>I was perfectly calm, but with the calmness +which is the outgrowth of an excitement +so tense that it is still. As the vision +floated nearer, I heard soft music—a crooning, +yearning, soul-satisfying lullaby; I +saw a little child, a mother, and a father. +The child was as beautiful as an angel, +and there was that in its face which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>made my eyes flood with tears, and my +heart ache with yearning; the faces of the +parents were too vague for me to recognize +at first; then slowly, that of the +mother became more distinct, and I saw +<i>myself</i> before me—myself, a wife and +mother; the visible answer to my heart’s +deepest, most secret cry. Still the father’s +face was hidden, but as the vision floated +by, he turned and looked at me—the vision +wife—with a look I had seen before, and I +uttered a cry as I recognized <i>Randolph +Chance</i>.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +<a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">As</span> I cried out, I turned slightly and, for +a moment, lost the picture. It was +changed when again I saw it; Randolph +Chance was still there, but he no longer +advanced toward the vision wife—she had +faded into mist; he came slowly toward +me. There was a beautiful look on his +face—I cannot describe it—it was too holy +to translate into language; but I could feel +it vibrate through my being until it set my +very soul a-quivering. I had no power of +resistance—no wish to resist. I almost +think I went toward him, and he was as +real to me as if he were in the flesh. I +could feel him as he put his arm around +my waist, and his face touched mine. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>vision child had melted away; and we two +were alone; I knew my heart then; I knew +I loved this man.</p> + +<p>It was all over in a few moments, but +such moments as make an eternity, for +they wipe out the past, even as death blots +out a life, and they open a door to the +future. Up to that time I had never +thought that, without my knowledge or +intent, my heart could slip from me—had +never dreamed that I, whose life had always +been most commonplace—I, who had +had my share of wooing, but had never +felt an extra heart-beat because of it—no, +never dreamed that I, this <i>I</i>, so practical +and sensible, could be carried off my feet +by a vision. A vision, was it? Yes, and +yet real, too real in some ways, since it revealed +my innermost thought. A vision! +And yet, even now that it had melted into +air, I was clinging to it, and instead of +resenting its startling revelation of self, +was dwelling upon it, and in it, with a delight +beyond words.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>I sat there in my study, my head bent, +and my hands loosely clasped in my lap, +living it over and over again. Out of +doors, the soft gray dusk had hushed the +tired world in its arms. Within, the stillness +of night had settled down upon the +room. By and by the moon rose above +the great waters of the lake, and on shore +the trees were casting silent, solemn shadows, +made visible by the soft, hazy light +that lay between them. Once in a while +a bird uttered its night cry, or some little +brooding note, and over on the vine-clad +gallery, Mrs. Thrush still crooned a lullaby +to her little child, who lay asleep—soft and +warm, on her mother-breast.</p> + +<p>I was no longer lonely, no longer shut +out from it all—there was the bird on its +nest; the little wife and mother in her +home; and I—I was very near them—akin +to them. I had seen myself in <i>my</i> home, +with my child, and my husband; I had +felt his dear arms about me, and his dear +face close to mine. I was no longer an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>alien. I, too, had a place in the heart of +another.</p> + +<p>Still I sat and dreamed, and even the +ringing of my door-bell failed to rouse me: +but when I heard the maid say to someone:</p> + +<p>“She has been downstairs to-night, but +I think she has gone up now, and I don’t +like to call her.”</p> + +<p>I started forward, saying quickly:</p> + +<p>“No, I am here—I will see any one.”</p> + +<p>And so he came in, but it was not the +one I expected. It was Mr. Gregory.</p> + +<p>I think that he found my embarrassment +on greeting him both gratifying and encouraging, +but its cause was alien to his +thought. I was brought back from another +world, as it were, with a rude shock, +and in my enfeebled condition, consequent +upon a severe illness could not control myself. +Indeed I did not feel that I was mistress +of myself at any time during the +evening.</p> + +<p>After a word or two, which I cannot recall, +I stammered out:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>“I was not expecting you this evening—I +had not sent for you.”</p> + +<p>“I know that you have not,” he answered—then +dropping his voice a trifle, +he added, “I could not wait any longer—I +found it difficult to wait so long as this. I +hardly dared hope that I might see you +this evening, but I felt I must try.”</p> + +<p>Intent upon sparing him the pain of a +spoken declaration, I exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Gregory, don’t! please don’t +say anything more. I am not deserving +of your esteem and kindness.”</p> + +<p>He came nearer me, and his voice was +at once tender and reverent, as he said:</p> + +<p>“You are more than worthy of what I +have to offer, which is myself, and all that +I have.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t!” I cried again; “don’t say anything +more! Let us imagine this unsaid!”</p> + +<p>“Such words can never be recalled,” he +said gravely.</p> + +<p>“They must be,” I persisted; “I cannot +accept! I have nothing to give in return!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>A look of disappointment came over his +face, and if I mistake not, it was shaded +with displeasure. “I hardly expected +this, Miss Leigh, I have hardly been led to +expect this.”</p> + +<p>“I know what you mean, Mr. Gregory,” +I replied, more calmly than I had spoken +before; “I know that I have accepted your +attentions—you have had every reason to +expect a different answer. I’ll not try to +deceive you, or keep anything from +you. I’ll tell you that I have not been +trifling. I have understood you for some +time——”</p> + +<p>He interrupted me here.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you must have done so; my attentions +to you could have but one interpretation, +if I were a man of honor, and +you knew I was that.”</p> + +<p>“I did, indeed,” I exclaimed. And +then my mind went, with a flash like +lightning, to Randolph Chance, and I felt +a sudden resentment. Had not he shown +me attentions that no man of honor can +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>bestow upon a woman, unless he wishes to +make her his wife? Why had he left me +in this strait? Why had he not spoken +out? Why had he not claimed before the +world that which he had taken such pains +to win? I was uncertain about Randolph +Chance; I had never been uncertain about +Mr. Gregory. Why? Because I had perfect +confidence in his honor. Was he not +the better man—the more trustworthy? +Why could I not marry him? I loved another +man. A wave of shame and anger +swept my face.</p> + +<p>“I have all along been expecting to +marry you. I have not been trifling,” I +cried out.</p> + +<p>He stepped forward, and took my hand. +It was as cold as ice.</p> + +<p>“What is it then, Constance, that has +changed you? Have I done anything +since your illness to make you think less +of me?”</p> + +<p>I trembled from head to foot, and my +lips were so stiff and dry that they scarce +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>would do my bidding. I must have +spoken very indistinctly.</p> + +<p>“No—no,” I said slowly; “I will tell +you everything—I have done you a wrong, +an unintentional wrong, but I will do penance—I +have seen myself to-night—” I +paused here; Mr. Gregory was a practical +man; had I told him that a vision had +changed my attitude, he would have +thought me insane. I myself had begun +to entertain doubts as to my sanity. “I +know myself now,” I faltered, “I know +my heart—I love another man.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gregory rose, and began pacing the +floor.</p> + +<p>“This surprises me greatly,” he said at +length; “there must have been another +courtship—it would seem that you must +have known something of how matters +were tending.”</p> + +<p>“I have known nothing until to-night. +There has been no courtship, in the ordinary +acceptation of that word—I’ll tell you +all, even if it humbles me completely, as a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>penalty for what I have done to you. The +man I love—” I could feel the blood mantling +my face and neck, “has never addressed +me.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gregory paused, and looked at me.</p> + +<p>“This is extraordinary,” he said.</p> + +<p>“It is—I know it is—it is most of all so +to me, for it is wholly unlike what I have +been all my life.”</p> + +<p>“Let us not talk of this any more to-night, +Miss Leigh,” he said, with evident +relief; “I have been wrong to press this +matter now, when you are hardly recovered. +You are not yourself. This is +something transitory, no doubt. Later on, +you may feel differently.”</p> + +<p>“No, no!” I exclaimed eagerly, “now +that we have begun, let us say it all. +Don’t—I beg of you, don’t go away with +a feeling that I don’t know my mind. I +am weak and miserable to-night—” here +the tears choked my voice, and I all but +broke down, “but I am miserable because +I have learned my true feeling, and know +that I must disappoint——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>I could not go on, and again he sat down +beside me and took my hand.</p> + +<p>“I cannot understand you,” he said +simply.</p> + +<p>“I can’t understand myself,” I replied; +“but all this is none the less real for that. +I have learned of it to-night, but it has existed +before; it explains many things in +the past year.”</p> + +<p>“If that is the case, then I must accept +your decision as final.”</p> + +<p>“It is, indeed,” I answered briefly.</p> + +<p>He rose, and walked the room in silence +again; then pausing once more, he said +calmly, and with no trace of anger.</p> + +<p>“This is the disappointment of my life.”</p> + +<p>I said nothing. What could I say? To +utter any platitudes about being sorry, +would have been to insult him.</p> + +<p>“A man cannot live to my age—I am +fifty-two, Miss Leigh—without experiencing +disappointment, but I have known +nothing equal to this.”</p> + +<p>He paced the room a few moments, and +then said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>“This interview must be distressing to +you. I am very sorry I brought it about +before you were strong and well.”</p> + +<p>“Say one thing before you go, Mr. +Gregory,” I cried, “only say that you +don’t think I have willfully misled you—say +that you respect me still.”</p> + +<p>His face was stirred by a slight quiver, +as a placid lake is stirred by an impulse of +the evening air.</p> + +<p>“You have had, and you always will +have my deepest respect, and my deepest +affection.”</p> + +<p>He took my hand silently, and then +quietly left the room.</p> + +<p>And I sat there until I heard the front +door close. Then I went upstairs, but I +remember nothing after reaching the first +landing.</p> + +<p>They found me lying there. They said +I must have fainted.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +<a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I was</span> badly upset for several days. +For a time I resolutely put all thought +of what had occurred from my mind, +but as soon as I felt able, I sat down, with +the whole matter before me, as it were, +and deliberately looked it in the face. I +think I never felt more inane in my life +than when I remembered my folly, as I +now regarded it. All that saved me from +utter self-abasement was the fact that it +had occurred at a time when I was at such +a low ebb physically, by reason of illness. +I determined to try to forget it, as speedily +as possible. But, however keenly I felt +the humiliation and folly of my emotion +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>upon that strange night, it never occurred +to me to waver, when recalling my decision +to bring matters between Mr. Gregory +and myself to an end. My refusal of him +had been brought about by one cause, and +only one—that I fully realized; and now +that I had repudiated the cause, I might +have been expected to reconsider the refusal. +But I did not.</p> + +<p>Soon after I was up and about once +more, I learned that my little friend had +not sent the flowers. I thought—no, I did +not think! but I cherished secretly a—well, +no! I cherished <i>nothing</i> in secret or +in public!</p> + +<p>I learned something else, soon after getting +up, and this was that a story was going +the rounds to the effect that Mr. Gregory +had broken our engagement—and my +disappointment had well-nigh occasioned +me a relapse. But in a twinkling, almost +before I had time to get indignant, Mrs. +Catlin was running about, telling everybody +that Mr. Gregory had confided in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>her, in strictest confidence, the truth of +the matter, which was that I had ended +the affair, and not he.</p> + +<p>I was much moved by this manly act +on Mr. Gregory’s part. He showed his +shrewdness, too; he could not announce +this in public, or go to people one by one, +so he confided it to Mrs. Catlin, and told +her not to tell.</p> + +<p>One Sabbath evening about ten +o’clock, I began to lock up the house. +Early retirement is something all but unknown +to me, but that night, having no +particular reason for sitting up, I was +about to indulge in it as a novelty.</p> + +<p>I raised the shade of one of the study +windows, with intent to draw the bolt, but +my hand paused in the act, for my eyes +were captured by a scene of surpassing +beauty. Fall had lately swept her gorgeous +leaves one side, and closed her doors +for the season, and we were now standing +on the threshold of winter. The early +snows are apt to be soft and clinging; it is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>later on, usually, when the thermometer +takes a plunge downward, that they become +crisp and hard. It is seldom, however, +at any time of year that the atmospheric +conditions are favorable to such a +creation as I beheld that night. I hardly +know just what is necessary to make it all—a +still, moderate cold, and a very humid +air are among the most important conditions, +I believe.</p> + +<p>When I stepped outside my door early +in the evening, the air all about me +seemed to be snow, not separated into +flakes, but diffused evenly. Altogether it +had the effect of a heavy white fog, and I +could see even then, that it was settling in +visible, palpable, feathery forms, not only +upon the ground, but upon every bush and +tree as well. It was a most unusual scene, +and I gazed at it long and admiringly; but +having no fondness for walking through +soft, clinging snow, I was not enticed to +sally forth, as I always am when the +snow is firm and sparkling.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>But by ten o’clock the temperature had +changed, and in the cooler air the almost +imperceptible melting of the snow had +been stayed.</p> + +<p>The white carpet that had slowly been +sinking, was now stationary, and was covered +by a firm crust that gleamed in the +moonlight. There was no sparkle on the +trees, but the feathery tufts and pinions +had ceased floating to the ground, and +melting into air. The scene, in all its +matchless beauty, was arrested—held upon +nature’s canvas for a few hours, by the +Master hand.</p> + +<p>Stay in doors that night! Would I be +so wicked as to turn my back, or close my +eyes upon one of the most delectable scenes +that ever a kind Providence spread before +the soul of human creature! Would I +deliberately slight such an exhibition of +love and marvelous skill? Not I!</p> + +<p>It didn’t take me long to catch up hat +and jacket, and with a heart that beat +high, slip from my house, as a greyhound +slips the leash, and hie me away.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>What mattered it that the neighborhood +lights were raised—a story, at least—and +that the owners of all the villas near at +hand, were preparing for decorous, temporary +retirement. I merely pitied them +for their stupidity, and went my way. I +had long been a law unto myself, and +while I did not believe in flaunting my independence +in their faces, I none the less +continued to enjoy it.</p> + +<p>There are nights when to sleep would be +the sin of an ingrate; ’twould be like gathering +up the good things of Providence, +and hurling them from out the window, in +reckless waste. And this night was such +a one.</p> + +<p>The keen air, and the entrancing beauty +about me, seemed to run in a subtle, fascinating +torrent through my veins, and +lend me wings. I felt as though I were +buoyed up by magic hands; I hardly +think I set foot on ground the whole way, +and yet I must, for I was conscious of a +crisp crackle of the snow at every step.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>Oh, is there any sound just like it! Could +our poor invalids but pitch their nostrums +over the wall, and take this tonic instead!</p> + +<p>Some friends of mine moved a while +ago and drove their family stake in a +spot far off from here. They are continually +writing me of a region of perpetual +sunshine and summer. I thought +of them on this glorious night, and pitied +them from the depths of my heart, as I +often have, indeed, since they went +out there. Theirs is the place for the extremely +indigent, no doubt, but for any +one who can command a dollar or so for +fuel, this—this is the land of delight.</p> + +<p>I was at no loss as to direction; our +suburb was beautiful throughout, especially +all along by the lake, but there was +one place in particular, where art and nature +had joined hands, with a result indescribable. +Toward these grounds I hastened, +on this particular night.</p> + +<p>Oh, the glory of that moon! the glory of +the lake! an undulating sea of waves, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>each crested with a feather, as soft, as +snowy in the moonlight, as the tinier ones +that hung upon the trees.</p> + +<p>I ran down the winding avenue—the +white fog still lingered in the deep places, +but above, all was clear and glorious. +Erelong I entered the Dunham’s grounds. +At a certain point, unmarked to the +stranger’s eye, a rustic flight of stairs, now +strewn with dead leaves—padded with +snow as well, to-night, dips down from +the broad driveway. Quickly I made my +way by this path, and erelong, stood +upon one of the little rustic bridges spanning +the ravine, and connecting with a +similar flight of ascending stairs upon the +other side. There I paused, and well I +might. It were a dull, plodding creature +indeed, who would not be spellbound by +such a scene! On either hand were the +sloping wooded sides of the ravine whose +depths were shrouded in the mysterious +whiteness of the fog; above me, a short +distance in front, was the arch of the broad, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>picturesque bridge with which the driveway +spans the hollow. The little rustic +bridge on which I stood was much lower +than the larger one; hence, from my position, +I looked through the archway, beyond, +down, and far along the ravine. Can +you call up fairyland to your mental eye? It +would pale before this scene—those feathery +trees! that enchanting vista! I stood +there drinking it in, and pitying the sleeping +world. I could not, even in thought, +express my delight and gratitude for being +permitted to behold such beauty, but +finally a familiar line leaped from my lips:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I can never forget that night; it kindled +and warmed my heart with a reverential +fire. If, in the course of years, my way +should be overcast; if, for a time, I should +let the artificial—the ignoble, clog the path, +and shut me out from the light of heaven, +even then I shall be saved from doubt, +which is always engendered by our stupidity—the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>things of our own manufacture—I +shall be saved from doubt by the sweet, +pure, radiant memory of that winter, +moonlight scene. Only a beneficent God +could create such beauty.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +<a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> my way back—at what dissipated +hour I firmly decline to state—I passed a +home with an interesting history tacked +thereto.</p> + +<p>The leading events were brought me by +one of those active, inquisitive little birds +that find out all sorts of things, and often +fetch from great distances.</p> + +<p>The couple who live there, though +Americans, once lived in Winnipeg, Manitoba, +and it was in that place that the husband +fell to drinking. The little bird +above alluded to—the bird that acts as a +kind of domestic ferret—told me that, in +the early years of their married life, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>wife was of an excitable, hysterical temperament, +and given to making scenes. +Just here let me digress a moment to erect +a warning signboard. I have a friend +who is busy mixing and administering a +deadly draught to her domestic happiness, +and yet does not know it. She has only +been married a year, and she uses tears +and scenes, in general, as instruments to +pull from her husband the attention, affection, +and devotion she craves. The tug +waxes increasingly hard, but she has not, +as yet, sense enough to see that, and desist. +She cannot realize that the success +attained by such methods is but the temporary +and external beauty, which, in +reality, covers a failure of the most hopeless +type, just as the flush on the consumptive’s +cheek is but a pitiable counterfeit, +and covers a fatal disease.</p> + +<p>Whether in this particular story, the +report of the wife’s early blunders be true +or false, there seems to be no doubt that +presently the husband grew careless and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>indifferent; that scene followed scene between +them, until at last he went to drinking. +Then the little wife waxed sober, +thoughtful, and studied much within herself. +This awful sorrow, following so +closely upon the heels of her wedding-day +joy, matured her judgment—her womanhood, +and she began to use every skillful +device to call back her husband from the +dark paths he had chosen, to the light. +All in vain, however; and when she realized +this, after several years of heroic +effort, she made one last scene, and told +him she was going to leave him. Then +his old-time tenderness returned—if you +can compare a tenderness which was +blurred and cringing, with that which was +clear and manly. He begged and promised +in vain, however, for she had lost faith, +and a lost faith is not found again for +many a day.</p> + +<p>So she went off, and she covered all +traces and signs so carefully that no anxious, +heartbroken effort of his could find +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>her. Meanwhile she wrote him frequently +and regularly, and although he knew not +where to send reply, it is quite likely she +had word of him from some one to whom +she had given her confidence in this dreary +time.</p> + +<p>And so five years passed, and at their +close she walked into her home one day, +and her husband—a man once more, took +her in his arms, and looked his love and +joy with clear, honest eyes.</p> + +<p>They came to our city, or rather this +little suburb of our city, soon afterward, +and although it is well-nigh ten years now +that they have been among us, there has +never been a hint of trouble. Hers was a +unique method, but it brought about the +desired end.</p> + +<p>Verily it would seem that for some dinners, +it is best for the cook to vanish, and +leave the dishes to get themselves.</p> + +<p>I was meditating on this as I walked +home that night, and the next morning, +stirred by the recollection of all I had seen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>and felt, was moved to write out a story +given me by a young man—a friend of +mine, who lives at a great distance from +here, on an olive ranch out of Los Gatos, +California.</p> + +<p>I wish I could give you this little tale +just as he told it. I can’t, I know, but I’ll +do my best in trying.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purblind dropped in just as I was +reading it over to myself, before my study +fire.</p> + +<p>“Do you remember my story about +Duke?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I liked it,” she said, “though I’m +not very partial to dogs.”</p> + +<p>“I have one here about horses. I’ve +written it out as nearly as possible as my +friend told it to me, but so much flavor is +lost when these things change hands. +Here it is, and I think that the lamentation +David sang over Saul, might head it.</p> + +<p>“A while ago we owned a couple of +horses—work horses, and yet, by reason +of the strength of their affections, they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>were lifted from out the commonplace, +and enveloped with an atmosphere of romance +that gave them the flavor of a story +book, plumb full of princes and heroes. +And by the way, Prince was the name of +one of them, and he was a genuine hero, +as you will see. His mate was called +Nelly, and albeit she was as awkward and +as angular as the ideal old maid, vastly +inferior to Prince, who was a fine-looking +chap, yet his admiration for her was unbounded. +She cared for him, I’m sure, but +she was less demonstrative; more coquettish, +I would say, if she hadn’t been too +homely a beast to think of, in connection +with such a word.</p> + +<p>“They were brought up together; were +taught by the same master; sat on the +same bench, in a figurative sense; were +lovers from the very first. Prince certainly +had the most elegant manners; +Nelly was his first thought, at all times, +and his courtesy to her savored of the old +school. He wouldn’t go into the shed of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>cold, rainy day and leave Nelly outside; +but if she went in, he was more than content +to follow. When it was necessary to +separate them—we couldn’t always work +them together—we had to tie Prince with +ropes and cables, as it were, to hold him +fast. Nelly was less difficult to manage; +at least, she would let him go out of sight +without fretting, and yet, after all, she +seemed easier if he were at hand. I remember, +one day, he was tied in front of +the house, and she was loose, grazing near +by. As long as he could see her, all went +well enough, but the moment she sauntered +around the fence, he began first to +fidget, then to paw and neigh, and finally +to struggle, until in the end, he broke loose +and rushed after his inamorata. And what +a time he made over her! whinnying, and +demonstrating his delight in a dozen different +ways. She? oh, she took it coolly, but +that was all feminine bosh, or coquetry on +her part. She liked to have him near her +well enough.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>“There was an amusing thing happened +one day, down in the field. Father and I +were plowing with Nell. We had tied +Prince to a tree, the other side of the knoll +we were working on, and supposed he +was fast, but to our surprise, just as we +turned, after finishing a long furrow, we +confronted the gentleman, tree and all, +standing before us in a weak and fainting +condition. He had struggled until he had +uprooted the whole business, and was so +used up in consequence, that he could +hardly stagger, much less go into his usual +hysterics over Nell. She looked as amazed +as we did, and I’ve no doubt gave him a +sound curtain lecture on his folly that +night.</p> + +<p>“One day father and Ned took Prince +down into the field. Steve and I stayed +up near the house, working around the +vineyard. Nelly was in the stable.</p> + +<p>“The morning was half gone, when all +at once Steve happened to turn around, +and look down the hill.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>“‘Gosh, Jack!’ he exclaimed, ‘the barn’s +afire.’</p> + +<p>“I gave one startled look, and then ran +for the hose.</p> + +<p>“‘Get Nelly out!’ I cried to Steve; but +after a second look, I called, ‘No, don’t +you do it! Let her go! it’s too late!’</p> + +<p>“‘I won’t let her go!’ he shouted; ‘do +you think I’ll stand by and see Nelly +burned to death!’</p> + +<p>“‘You’d be a fool to go in now! Look +at that stable! Here! Stand back! Have +you lost your wits?’</p> + +<p>“‘Let me go!’ he cried; ‘Jack, get out +of the way!’</p> + +<p>“But I threw him down and held him. I +was bigger than he; older, and cooler-headed +too.</p> + +<p>“‘There, I give in,’ he said in a moment; ‘it’s +wicked to lose time this way. +Let me up, Jack, and we’ll get the hose. +I promise you I won’t go in.’</p> + +<p>“We ran for the hose, and turned on all +the water we could command, and by this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>time mother and the servant girl had +come from the house, and were helping +us.</p> + +<p>“We could hear Nelly struggling in her +stall, and I tell you it made us sick! Unluckily +we had chained her, in anticipation +of her trying to get loose, and go after +Prince. She’d never been left at home +this way before, and we’d taken extra +pains to secure her.</p> + +<p>“The stable doors were fastened by a +heavy bolt; again and again I tried to +push it back, but it was so fiery hot I +couldn’t touch it, and when I tried to hammer +it, the flames drove me off.</p> + +<p>“There was nothing for it but to leave +poor Nelly to her fate. It seemed as if she +divined our intent, for, as we turned away, +she uttered a piercing scream. Mother +burst into tears.</p> + +<p>“‘I can’t stand it,’ she said, covering +her ears.</p> + +<p>“Again and again Nelly’s voice rang out. +Steve stood there, his face drawn and +white. All at once he took out his watch.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>“‘It’s twelve o’clock!’ he cried; ‘father’ll +be home in a moment, and if Prince hears +Nelly he’ll go mad. Head ’em off, Jack!’</p> + +<p>“I didn’t wait for another word, but ran +with all my might down the road by +which they always came.</p> + +<p>“As fate would have it, they had chosen +the other one that day, and were well +along, before I caught sight of them. +Father had taken Prince out of the plow, +and harnessed him to a little single-seated +gig we had. He was driving him, and +Ned was walking behind. I saw Steve +running toward them, but he was still at +a distance.</p> + +<p>“‘Father,’ I yelled at the top of my +voice, ‘stop! father! the stable’s on fire. +Turn Prince back. Nelly is burning!’</p> + +<p>“Father didn’t seem to understand, for +although he listened, he kept driving +slowly on.</p> + +<p>“I shouted again, running toward them, +and gesticulating frantically. All at once +Ned caught my meaning, and bounding +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>like a deer in front of the gig, grabbed +Prince by the head to turn him, but at +that very moment a terrible scream from +poor Nelly split our ears, and in less time +than it takes to tell there was a maddened +horse plunging in midair, with four strong +men clinging to him, trying to hold him +back.</p> + +<p>“‘Let him go, boys! Let him go!’ +shouted father; ‘it’s no use! Let him go, +I tell you! He’ll kill us all!’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, God! I can’t let the old fellow +burn up!’ sobbed Steve.</p> + +<p>“But Prince had begun to lay about him +with his teeth, and father knocked Steve +down to get him out of the way.</p> + +<p>“I believe we all sobbed, as we watched +the old hero go up that hill and into the +stable; Nelly was quiet now, and the doors +were down.</p> + +<p>“We heard him groan once or twice, and +then mother came to meet us, and took us +all into the house.</p> + +<p>“It’s out yonder—the monument we +put up. It’s over both of them.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>“Well, what has that horse story to do +with men?” asked a sneering voice, when I +had finished my little tale, and Mrs. Purblind +and I were sitting silent.</p> + +<p>I turned, and to my astonishment and +disgust saw Mrs. Cynic, who had come in +quietly, unobserved by me, as I was reading.</p> + +<p>I should not have answered her a word, +but Mrs. Purblind thought to avert an +awkward situation, so she said:</p> + +<p>“It illustrates the devotion of the masculine +nature, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“In horses? Yes; it’s a pity that it +hasn’t been evoluted into men.”</p> + +<p>“It has,” I answered curtly, “for those +who are capable of seeing and appreciating +it.”</p> + +<p>This probably made her angry, for she +turned on me with her most evil expression:</p> + +<p>“It’s a mystery to me why, with your +overweening admiration for the other sex, +you haven’t married, Miss Leigh. You +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>must have had countless opportunities; +child-like faith, such as yours, must be +very attractive to them.”</p> + +<p>I stared at her a moment in silence; her +insolence stupefied me. Then I think I +opened the nearest window, and pitched +her out. Mrs. Purblind insists I did not +do that, exactly, but that I got rid of her. +As she hasn’t been in since, a desirable +result was obtained, and I don’t much care +what the method may have been.</p> + +<p>I aired my house the rest of the day, +having a wish to cleanse it, and protect +my moral nature, much as one would rid +a place of sewer gas, to protect the physical +being.</p> + +<p>I was not in a very good temper after +all this, and it annoyed me to see Randolph +Chance coming in before taking his +train. He had been calling oftener than +usual of late, but he didn’t seem to have +much to say, and so his coming gave no +especial pleasure.</p> + +<p>To-day what talk we had ran on flowers +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>for a time, when Mr. Chance, awkwardly +and out-of-placedly, asked me how I liked +the <i>Reve d’or</i> rose. This was the kind of +rose I had received every morning, during +my illness.</p> + +<p>I looked at him inquiringly. I confess +my heart was beating faster.</p> + +<p>He flushed, and said abruptly:</p> + +<p>“You must have known I sent you +those.”</p> + +<p>“I did not,” I answered rather coldly; +“there was no card or note with them.”</p> + +<p>“I thought you’d know,” he said with +increasing embarrassment; and then he +added, almost desperately, “you must +know, Constance, that I love you.”</p> + +<p>“I know nothing,” I replied, drawing +myself up haughtily; “I take nothing of +this kind for granted. If you want me to +understand, you must come out openly.”</p> + +<p>“I have done enough, surely,” he said, +“enough to lead you to guess the truth.”</p> + +<p>“I guess nothing of this sort!” I reiterated; +“what right have you to place me in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>this position? What right have you, or +any other man to deprive a woman of one +of her dearest privileges—that of being +wooed?”</p> + +<p>“Constance!” he cried, and all his embarrassment +was gone, “aren’t there a +thousand ways of saying ‘I love you?’ and +haven’t I said it in every way but one?”</p> + +<p>“That one was the most important of +all,” I answered; “I would have given +more to hear those words than to receive +every other token.”</p> + +<p>His face lighted up with a sudden flash, +and he started impulsively toward me.</p> + +<p>“Then you <i>do</i> love me, my darling—I +have hardly dared to hope.”</p> + +<p>But I drew back, and answered passionately,</p> + +<p>“No, I do not! I love no man who can +trifle with a young girl, or any woman—no +man who has the effrontery to expect +some one to take for granted a courtship +that has never existed!”</p> + +<p>“For Heaven’s sake, what <i>do</i> you mean?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>“Go to Miss Sprig and inquire; she has +more reason to take your love for granted +than I.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll not go to her, but I shall leave +you,” he said, with a white face. “You +certainly don’t care for me, or you would +never deal me such an unjust thrust as +this.”</p> + +<p>And then I heard him close the front +door. I think the neighborhood heard +him.</p> + +<p>I walked to the window. He was gone.</p> + +<p>I told myself I was glad of it—that a +good lesson had been taught.</p> + +<p>Which of us was teacher remained +somewhat obscure.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +<a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> might reasonably be supposed that +the event last narrated disturbed my life. +It did in a measure, and for a time, but I +was not very long in bringing it back to its +accustomed channel.</p> + +<p>Strange as it may seem, although we +lived across the street from one another, I +saw nothing of Mr. Chance for many +weeks. Perhaps it is not strange though, +after all, since each of us was taking +pains to avoid the other, and we knew +each other’s habits of life pretty well by +this time.</p> + +<p>But if I didn’t see him, I heard of him +frequently enough, for Mrs. Purblind +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>rarely ever met me without saying something +about “Dolph,” as she called him. +She was exceedingly fond of him, and +with good cause, for he was a most affectionate, +thoughtful, unselfish brother. He +was very different from her, and they +were not confidential friends, when serious +matters were concerned, but they were +companionable, nevertheless.</p> + +<p>It is not likely Mrs. Purblind realized +that she was shut out from something that +deeply concerned her brother; but she +worried about him. She was certain he +was ill—he had little appetite, and was in +no way like himself, she said. Miss Sprig +wondered what had come over him.</p> + +<p>I believe Mrs. Purblind must have been +deaf as well as blind, otherwise the neighborhood +gossip regarding Mr. Chance and +myself, which was rife a year ago, would +certainly have reached her. Evidently she +had heard nothing, and she continued to +keep my innermost breast in a secret ferment, +by pouring her fears and speculations +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>into my ear. She even confided in +me that she had for a long time suspected +the existence of an affair between Miss +Sprig and her brother, but this young +woman declared that he never paid her the +slightest attention of a matrimonial character; +that he’d been very kind to her, +very jolly, and friendly, but that was all.</p> + +<p>I think that if Mount Vesuvius had +leaped out of me, and taken its departure, +I could scarce have felt more relieved. I +really had been harboring a volcano for +some time, and it was a hot tenant.</p> + +<p>Shortly after hearing this latter piece of +Mrs. Purblind’s news, another bit was +added.</p> + +<p>“Dolph has gone away,” she said, one +day; “left suddenly, this morning. He +confessed to being played out, and I’m +sure he looks it. He’s gone on to Buffalo, +to brother Dave’s.”</p> + +<p>That night I sat down and wrote a letter; +when one has done wrong, his first +conscious act should be to confess.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>I was in a trying position; one is at such +a time. Two months had elapsed, and +Mr. Chance might have changed his mind +and intent. Men do, occasionally; women, +too. And indeed he never had asked me +to marry him. True, that is the supposition +when a man, with any real manhood +about him, tells a woman he loves her—when +he shows her marked attentions, in +fact; but, as I said to Mr. Chance, I did not +intend to take such things for granted. I +had not changed in that respect. I had, +however, become convinced that I was +harsh and unjust to him. It is a blundering +teacher who takes badness in a child +for granted—does not wait for proof. It +is an inspired teacher who ignores the bad +sometimes, even after it has been proven. +To think the worst, so some of the psychologists +tell us, will often create the worst. +Even a cook does well to make the most +of her materials. Her dishes will be likely +to turn out ill, if she treats the ingredients +with disrespect. It would seem that I, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>who had in a manner made a specialty of +matrimonial cookery, had something yet +to learn. Randolph Chance had given me +a lesson.</p> + +<p>In my letter, I said that time and +thought had shown me I had done him a +wrong, and that I was very sorry; that, +no doubt, he had changed in some feelings, +and it was, perhaps, not likely we should +meet very soon; but that I wished him to +know I realized my mistake, and that I +was still his friend.</p> + +<p>The second day after I had written, I +heard from him; our letters were penned +the same night, and must have crossed +each other. In his he said he had held off +as long as he could, but was coming right +back from Buffalo to see me. He was +certain he could explain everything; he had +nothing to hide, and he hoped I would let +him tell me what was in his heart; that +for months he had known but one real +wish, one real aspiration—to win me for +his wife. He begged me to let him begin +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>anew, and make an effort to attain this +great end.</p> + +<p>That evening, in the gloaming, I was at +my study window. I could look into the +parlor of the Thrush home. A shadow +had fallen upon that dear nest; one of the +little birdies had flown away, but it was +now forever sheltered from all storms in +the dear Christ’s bosom, so all was well. +The gentle little mother was nearly crushed +at first, even more so than the father, +though he felt the loss deeply; but erelong +she lifted her sweet face, and smiled +through her tears. And now, at the end +of two weeks, she was to her husband, at +least, as cheerful as ever, even more tender, +and she made the home as bright as +before. So many women are selfish in +their grief, unwise too. They act as if +their husbands were aliens, and did not +share the sorrow. It is true the man usually +recovers sooner than the woman +from such a blow, but no one should blame +him for that. His nature is different, necessarily +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>different; not in kind, but in degree. +It has to be; his is the outside battle; +he must needs be rugged. But “a +man’s a man for a’ that,” and the woman +who shuts him out in the hour of bereavement, +or who darkens the home continuously, +and overcasts its good cheer, is both +selfish and foolish. In such cases husband +and wife are parted, instead of being +brought nearer to one another, as they +should be when they have a little ambassador +in the court of Heaven.</p> + +<p>My heart was very tender that evening, +and as I sat beside the glowing fire, before +the lamps were lighted, my thoughts ran +to Mrs. Purblind. The poor little woman +had seemed sad of late, and I guessed, +without word from her, that it was because +her husband was going out so much +at night. I did wish she could see some +things as they really were.</p> + +<p>She sat there with me that evening—in +spirit, at least, on the opposite side of the +fireplace, and her mournful face touched +me deeply.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>“He doesn’t seem to care for his home,” +she said sadly.</p> + +<p>“Make him care for it. Man is a +domestic animal. If he doesn’t stay at +home, something is wrong.”</p> + +<p>“I do all I can,” she answered in a dull +tone.</p> + +<p>“No doubt you do now,” I said; “but +learn more, and then you will improve.”</p> + +<p>“I was looking over some trunks in the +attic to-day, and I came across my wedding +gown. It called up so much! I +can’t get over it—” and she sobbed aloud.</p> + +<p>I couldn’t speak just then. The tears +were too near.</p> + +<p>“Oh, when first I wore that gown, how +happy I was, and how I looked forward to +the future! Everything was bright then, +but now it’s so changed that I’d hardly +know it was the same—it isn’t the same—I’m +not the same, either——”</p> + +<p>Here she broke down again.</p> + +<p>I leaned over, and laid my hand on hers. +You know she wasn’t really there; the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>real Mrs. Purblind seldom talked over her +affairs with me, but I could feel what she +was suffering, none the less.</p> + +<p>“I want to tell you something, if I +may,” I said.</p> + +<p>She assented in a dumb sort of fashion, +and I leaned a little nearer.</p> + +<p>The firelight gleamed on the walls, and +in its glow the pictures looked down +kindly upon us. Soft shadows rested in +the corners of the room, and an air of +peace and comfort brooded throughout, as +a bird upon her nest.</p> + +<p>“Think a little while,” I said gently; +“think of his side. Is he quite the same +as he was when he married?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” she exclaimed; “he was so +loving and attentive then.”</p> + +<p>“Had he any hopes and plans? Enthusiasm? +Did life look bright to him?”</p> + +<p>A serious look traversed her face, as +though she were entertaining a new +thought.</p> + +<p>“Look at him as he used to be,” I continued.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>And as I spoke, she saw that a young +man with a fresh, sunny face—a healthy, +happy, care-free face—was sitting in the +ruddy firelight.</p> + +<p>She gave a start.</p> + +<p>“That is Joe as he used to be!” she +said. “Oh, how he’s changed!”</p> + +<p>Even as she spoke, the young man +faded away, and an older man—much +older, apparently, careworn, and unhappy-looking—took +his place.</p> + +<p>The coals in the glowing grate sank, +and the bright light suddenly died. A +deep shadow rested upon the figure beside +us; he was with us, and yet seemed so +alone.</p> + +<p>“Who would think a man could change +that way in ten years!” exclaimed Mrs. +Purblind; “would you believe it possible?”</p> + +<p>“Not unless he had known many disappointments, +and borne loads and cares +beyond his years.”</p> + +<p>“I have never thought +of that,” she murmured, “I believe poor +Joe has been disappointed too.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>“He certainly has.”</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad, and there’s no help for it +now,” she added with a sob.</p> + +<p>“Don’t say that,” I urged, laying my +hand on hers again; “you close the gate of +heaven when you say ‘no hope.’ There is +always hope as long as there is a spark of +life—any physician will tell you that. If +you can be patient—be strong to bear, and +wait—if you can make home bright, and +not care, or not seem to care if he slights +it and you, for weeks—months, maybe +years—it takes so much longer to undo, +than to do—there is <i>every</i> hope. He +couldn’t do this, but a woman—a real +woman, is strong enough, with God on +her side.”</p> + +<p>The dullness left her face, and an unselfish +light dawned in its place. As she rose +to go, she leaned over the other figure, +and he looked up at her, with something +of the old-time love.</p> + +<p>I replenished the fire after they had gone—they +went out together—and as I sat +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>there thinking of it all, I heard a sudden +rushing sound in the street.</p> + +<p>I ran to the door, just in time to see a +farm wagon, drawn by two strong horses, +go pell-mell past my house, and overturn, +as the frightened animals dashed around +the corner. The neighborhood was agog +in a moment, and I joined the rest in trying +to help the occupants of the broken +vehicle. We brought them into the house—the +man and woman and a little +child.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were in the light, I +knew them; they were some of my people—a +German family, by the name of Abraham, +who lived on a little farm just outside +our suburb. They had been to me +typical representatives of a stupid class, who +have all the hardships of life, and none of +its soft lights and shades. They were the +kind that plant their pig-sty on the lake +side of their house—put the pig-sty betwixt +them and every other beauty, it seemed to +me. What can life hold for such people? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>They know nothing of love, or any other +joy. Merely an animal existence is theirs.</p> + +<p>We fetched a doctor as speedily as possible—the +parents were merely bruised, +but the little child was badly hurt. At +first we feared she was dying, and it was +a relief to be told that she would probably +live.</p> + +<p>I went out of the room to get some bandages, +and the doctor followed me. Returning +suddenly, I ran upon an unexpected +scene; up to that time, before us +all, the parents had seemed perfectly stolid; +but just as I opened the door, the wife and +mother rose from her knees by the bed, +and I have seldom seen a look more expressive +of tender love than that with +which her husband took her in his arms.</p> + +<p>We have many things to learn in the +next world; one of these, I am sure, will +be, not to judge by the life upon the surface. +There is a deep fount of feeling beneath, +and often it is those whom we least +suspect, who dip down into it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>I was still busy with these people, when +Randolph Chance walked in upon me. +His kind heart needed no prompting to +join in our little attentions, and he was of +especial use in getting a vehicle to take the +family home.</p> + +<p>After they had gone, and we found ourselves +alone, a great embarrassment seemed +to seize him in a fatal grasp.</p> + +<p>By and by I realized that I was really +getting incensed, and I was afraid I should +soon be in the position of the man who +went to another, whom he had ill-treated, +to apologize for his bad conduct, and, “By +Jove, sir”—to use his own phrase, “I hit +him again.”</p> + +<p>I tried to keep my letter before my eyes. +I didn’t want to be forced by that inexorable +tyrant—conscience—to write another. +And I should, if I didn’t hold on to myself, +and this man didn’t behave differently.</p> + +<p>To avoid a clash, I set to work to clear +away some of the confusion consequent +upon the accident, and he helped me in +this.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>One would suppose that might serve to +cool him, and it did indeed, to such an extent +that, upon our settling down again, he +began the most commonplace conversation, +giving me some incidents of his trip; +discussing the scenery; weather; population, +and general aspects of Buffalo; with +much more of the dryest, most disagreeable +stuff, that a man ever had the temerity to +use, as a means of wasting a woman’s +evening.</p> + +<p>To employ a childish phrase—it best fits +the occasion—I grew madder and madder, +until at last matters within me rose to +such a height, that when he began to tell +of his brother’s house in Buffalo, and to +dwell upon the peculiarities of its furniture, +I felt peculiar enough to hurl all of mine at +him.</p> + +<p>The number of things I thought of that +evening would form a library of energetic +literature. Among other resolves, I determined +from that day on, if I lived till my +hair whitened—lived till I raised my third +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>or fourth crop of teeth, never, <i>never</i>, to give +Randolph Chance another thought. There +was one comfort: he did not know, nor did +any one else, what a complete goose I had +made of myself; but, though I <i>had</i> been +most foolish, thanks to a sober, Puritanic +ancestry, I still had myself in hand; my +hysterics had been occasional and secluded, +and I was not wholly gone daft. I could +recover; I would! and then, if ever he +came to my feet, he would learn that some +things don’t rise, after once they are cold.</p> + +<p>I was calm enough when he at last decided +to go, and instead of running on excitedly, +as I had been vaguely conscious of +doing part of the evening, I really conversed. +Indeed, to speak modestly, I +think I was rather interesting. I had +forgotten what he had called for. So had +he—apparently.</p> + +<p>All I hoped was that he did not intend +to bore me with frequent repetitions of this +call. I had better use for my evenings +than such waste of time as chatting with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>him. I cast about me for some suitable +excuse to shut off future inflictions, and at +last hit upon one that I thought might +answer.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I must sacrifice myself for a +while,” I said cheerfully; “I have had a +deal of business swoop down upon me, and +in order to dispatch it, must shut myself +up for a time, and forego the joys of +society.”</p> + +<p>Instantly his old embarrassment came +back upon him, as a small boy’s enemy—supposed +to be vanquished—darts around +the corner, and renews the attack.</p> + +<p>He started to go; came back; returned +to the door; again came back; colored +vividly—looked at me imploringly. And +as I looked at him my anger, my coldness—all +vanished, and I exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Randolph Chance, why <i>don’t</i> you say +it!”</p> + +<p>“Some things are awfully hard to say. +I can write—— Oh Constance! you might +have mercy on me!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>“Well,” I said, laughing—I could almost +see the light upon my face—“I suppose +you want me to marry you.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t get away now!” he cried, a +second later.</p> + +<p>The walls heard a much-smothered +voice—</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to.”</p> + +<p>Now this little scene, I suppose, is what +makes Randolph always say I proposed to +him. This remark, oft repeated, sometimes +under very trying circumstances, is +his one disagreeableness. But I let it pass +without comment, for I realize it is the +spout to the kettle, and I am thankful that +the steam has so safe and harmless an outlet. +If I were to boil him too hard, he +would probably overflow, and dim the fire; +but I am <i>very cautious</i>, and love still +burns with a clear, bright flame.</p> + + +<p class="theend">THE END.</p> + + + +<div class="note"> +<p><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong> The table below lists all corrections applied to the +original text.</p> + +<ul> +<li><a href="#Page_32">p. 032</a>: [removed stray quote] “I didn’t care for this picnic</li> +<li><a href="#Page_50">p. 050</a>: [normalized] they were wellnigh exhausted → well-nigh</li> +<li><a href="#Page_56">p. 056</a>: [extra comma] any comment on her neighbors’ affairs, was alien to her.</li> +<li><a href="#Page_152">p. 152</a>: Their’s is the place → Theirs</li> +<li><a href="#Page_182">p. 182</a>: [added speaker change] beyond his years. I have never thought</li> +<li><a href="#Page_187">p. 187</a>: [normalized] most common-place conversation → commonplace</li> +<li><a href="#Page_189">p. 189</a>: [changed to long dash] I can write—— Oh Constance!</li> +</ul> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of How to Cook Husbands, by +Elizabeth Strong Worthington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW TO COOK HUSBANDS *** + +***** This file should be named 26210-h.htm or 26210-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/2/1/26210/ + +Produced by Irma Spehar, Markus Brenner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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