Part 7 (2/2)

All the life was up stairs, including the wee bit of new life that had come to venture upon the perils and vicissitudes of the great world. It was two hours, but it seemed a month, before any one relieved my solitude, and then it was at Bessie's interposition-in fact, a command that she had to insist upon until her mother was afraid of her getting excited-that I was admitted to behold the mysteries above.

Well, it is n.o.body's business about the particulars of that chamber. It was too sacred for description; but there was the tiny, quivering, red new-comer, already dressed in some of the dainty liliputian garments, and very much astonished and not altogether pleased at the effect.

Bessie was proud and happy, the nurse, moving about silently, knew just what to do and how to do it, and the mother-in-law held supreme command.

She was grand and severe, and evidently her wishes had been disregarded in respect to the s.e.x of her grandchild. She feared the consequences of another Charlie launched into a world already too degenerate, and she had hoped for an addition to the superior s.e.x. But Bessie and I were mightily pleased that it was a boy.

There was little to be said then, but in a few days the restraint began to be relaxed, and discussions arose about what had become the most important member of the household. Even the widow must be content with the second place now, but I began to have misgivings lest my position had been permanently fixed as the third. In my secret mind, however, I determined to a.s.sert my rights as soon as Bessie was strong again, and reduce my mother-in-law to the position in which she belonged. I had put off doing it too long, and advantage might be taken of the present juncture of affairs to strengthen her claim to supremacy, and it really wouldn't do to delay much longer.

”I think he looks just like Charlie,” said Bessie to Miss Van, the first time the latter called after the great event.

”Well, I don't know,” was the reply. ”It seems to me he has his papa's dark eyes, but I can't see any other resemblance.”

”Oh, I do!” Bessie replied with spirit. ”Why, it is just his forehead and mouth, and his hair will be just the same beautiful brown when he grows up.”

The old lady was looking on reproachfully, and finally said, ”Bessie, my dear, that child looks precisely like your own family. George at his age was just such an infant; you couldn't tell them apart.”

George entered the room at that moment, and with his boisterous laugh said, ”You don't mean to say that I was ever such a little, soft, ridiculous lump of humanity as that, do you?”

”As like as two peas,” was the reply of his mother.

For my part I kept out of the discussion, for I must confess I could see no resemblance between the precious baby and any other mortal creature, except another baby of the same age. I thought they looked pretty much all alike, and was not prepared to deny that it was the exact counterpart of anybody at that particular stage of development.

”I tell you what, Bess,” said George, after the debate had fully subsided, ”you must name that little chap for me.”

”Oh, no,” replied the proud mother, ”that is all settled; his name is Charlie.”

Nothing had been said on the subject before, and I was a little startled at Bessie's positive manner, for I thought even this matter would not be free from her mother's dictation. The old lady seemed surprised and vexed. ”George is a much better name, I think,” she said very quietly, keeping down her vexation, ”but I thought perhaps you might remember your dear father in this matter. His name, you know, was Benjamin.”

”Yes, I know,” said Bessie, very firmly, ”but I think there is one with a still higher claim, and the child's name is Charles.”

”Good for you, little girl!” I thought, but I said nothing. Within me I felt a gleeful satisfaction at Bessie's spirit, which showed that if it ever came to a sharp contest with her mother, nothing could keep her from holding her own place by her husband's side. All my misgivings about her possible estrangement by her mother's influence vanished, and I saw that the new tie between us would be stronger than any earthly power.

”Well,” said George abruptly, after a pause, ”I wouldn't be so disobliging about a little thing like that.”

”Ah! you wait until you can afford the opportunity of furnis.h.i.+ng names, and see what you will do,” I said jokingly. My joke was not generally appreciated. The widow gave me a look a little short of savage. Bessie suppressed a smile, in order to give me a reproof with her eyes, and Miss Van just then thought of something wholly irrelevant to say, as if she had not noticed my remark at all. On the whole, I was made to feel that it was a disgraceful failure.

CHAPTER IX.

THE SHADOW ON OUR LIFE.

Another summer with all its glory was upon us. It was nearly a year since we were married, and I was beginning to feel the dignity of a family man. As Bessie regained her strength and bloom, she seemed to have a matronly grace and self-command quite new to her. As I looked back over our married life I saw no dark shadows, no coldness between us two, no misunderstandings that need occasion regret, but somehow it seemed as though that year had not been so bright and happy as it ought to have been. We had lived under an irksome restraint that was depressing. I had felt it more than Bessie, for she had been accustomed to submit to her mother, and did not chafe, but she plainly saw that my life had not that blithesomeness that would have been natural to me, and which she would have been glad to give it.

It was the presence and influence of the mother-in-law that gave a chill to my home life, and yet I could accuse the good woman of no special offence. She was no vulgar meddler, and never wished or intended to mar our domestic felicity. She had managed to keep control of our household arrangements and we had pa.s.sively acquiesced, but I felt that it would be better if Bessie would take command and cater more to our own desires. We could then have things our own way, and her position would be more becoming as the lady of the house. She began to regard it in the same light herself. Our social life, too, had been restrained and restricted. I was very fond of having my friends about me, and wished them to come in for the evening or to dinner or to pa.s.s a Sunday afternoon in our little bower, as often as they could find it agreeable.

Mrs. Pinkerton made no open objections, but I knew the company of my friends was not congenial to her, and so was reluctant and backward in my invitations to them. Besides, they were apt to be chilled and disconcerted by the widow's stately presence and rebuking ways, and were disinclined to make themselves quite at home with us. Fred Marston and his wife had been quite driven away. Mrs. Pinkerton had declined to speak to the latter, and had told the former in plain terms that he used language of which no gentleman would be guilty.

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