Part 12 (1/2)
What a power some women's soft words and smiles have on a man; he is owned by them, and it was so in the case of Ben West.
Ben said: ”Well, dear Julia, I suppose I will have to go to the Klondike again to make my pile a million.”
Julia pouted and looked her prettiest and said: ”I do hate to have you go to that cold and disagreeable country, Ben, and it will be so lonesome for me without you, dear; but, Ben, make your pile quick and come home.”
Ben West did not express all he felt in having to go back to the Klondike, but he had such a pretty, handsome woman for a wife, who pleased him so much and he was so proud of her, and he loved her admiration and approval of himself as much as he did his life. So he decided to return to the Klondike in a month's time. That would give him, in all, three months of honeymoon. Then he would leave for the cold regions of the Klondike.
The last week Ben West was with his wife she seemed at times so sad about his leaving, and would pet him and make so much of him, that she became doubly dear to him. He said, ”This is bliss, indeed.”
At last the sad day for his parting came. They did the best they could by cheering each other up, with the expectation of Ben's quick return and coming back as a millionaire.
Now, when a handsome young bride is left with an eighty-thousand-dollar house and twenty thousand dollars worth of furniture, three servants, a carriage and a handsome span of horses, two bicycles and an automobile, with a good fat bank account to draw on, she is not going to spend many sad days in the house alone, longing for the return of her husband. Nor will she be contented to remain at home and become fascinated in reading Milton's ”Paradise Lost” or Moody's sermons. No. She is going to have company, and gay companions, and they will not be all of her own s.e.x either. About a month after Ben West had returned to the Klondike, Julia had made new acquaintances of persons who had time, money, and elegant leisure. Returning home from a swell party one evening, Julia said to herself, ”What freedom there is in being married. Your market is made, and you can have lots of fun dancing, flirting, and so on; while a girl that is unmarried has to be more careful of herself and her conduct, because it might hinder her making a desirable match. It is fine to be married to a good-natured man.”
CHAPTER XIV.
FIVE YEARS AFTER MARRIAGE.
It was one of those lovely days in March when nature is decorated in her best; for each day she adds to her wreath of glory new beauties in the form of buds and flowers. The trees in the orchard were a sight to behold in their beautiful and variegated colors. The soft, balmy air coming up the canon was full of the perfume of flowers. The birds were warbling their sweetest notes in the mulberry and walnut trees, and the hum of the bees were heard around the flowers. All Nature sang through these various forms, that All is life, All is love, All is joy, and All is G.o.d.
On this day two ladies were sitting out on the porch of the Herne residence, one was a lady with gray hair, the other was her daughter.
Both were sitting in silence. The younger was thinking how very much like this beautiful day was, to the one five years ago when she entered her new home as the wife of Charles Herne. Many thoughts were crowding upon her mind; she was thinking how perfectly, supremely happy she was on that occasion. Every thing about her seemed to respond to the happy thought within, and her cup of joy was overflowing. Then the thought came to her why was it not so to-day? Nature seemed just as beautiful, her home was more beautiful, and the returns from the sale of their fruit each year had exceeded their expectations. Her health was good, she was in harmony with her neighbors, and enjoyed her life among the people in Orangeville. And above all she had experienced the joys of motherhood, having a son two years old, and her husband was just as kind and attentive to her as ever, and yet--and yet--and yet, must she confess, yes, she very reluctantly told her thoughts to her mother to see if she could explain and give her light on those feelings which had come to the surface many a time, only to be suppressed. But they would rise again, and the more they were put down, the more they would rise, till at last she would relieve her mind by telling her mother, who she knew had had more experience.
”Mother,” said Clara, ”why is it, when everything about me is as good and some things much better than when I was married, and Charles is just as kind, thoughtful, and loving as a husband and father can be, and yet after five years of happy, harmonious life, there is less attraction between us, than when we were first married? Of course, I have never let Charles think that I felt this way, but I noticed that after we had been married two months, Charles' kisses, touches, and pettings did not produce that pleasurable thrill they once did, and it has been growing more and more that way ever since. Why, even when he kisses my hand, it does not produce any more pleasure than if I had kissed my own hand. I remember the time when Charles' kisses used to send an electric thrill of joy through me; the sound of his coming footsteps was a delight which gave me more pleasure than a kiss does now.”
”Well, Clara,” said her mother, ”you don't expect to have the high-strung, pleasurable excitement of a bride all the time, do you? I know my experience was like yours, Clara, and I think from all those I have heard talk about such matters that theirs is also the same. So I take it for granted that is how it should be, and cannot be made different. I would not let my mind dwell on it if I were you, Clara; for you have got one of the best men for a husband, a fine boy, and a very comfortable home.”
After hearing what her mother had to say, Clara thought it best not to say any more, for her mother had given her no satisfactory answer, and seemed to know no more about such matters than she herself did. But she kept thinking, ”Did it have to be so?”
During the time that Clara was busy with these thoughts and talks with her mother, there was a man walking through his orchard, apparently looking at the fruit buds, but his mind was pre-occupied with another subject. He was thinking that it was five years ago since he and Clara were married, and he was thinking how happy he was when he brought her to his home. He was thinking also of the thrills of joy and pleasure her presence gave him before marriage, and for a month or two afterwards, when she took his hand in hers and then kissed it; how soothing and delightful it was; and what an attractive power she had. But now, how different.
”It is just the same as if I kissed myself. She is just as good, just as loving a wife, so kind and thoughtful, and we never have had any words, but there is something. I cannot find words to express what I mean. Is it tameness? Are other married persons like that?” And he began to think about the married life of some of his friends. ”There was Winchester and his wife, I remember them when they were courting, they seemed inseparable, and for a while after they were married they could not see any one else but each other. If they were out anywhere they would sit together holding each other's hands, and not wis.h.i.+ng to say much to any one else. After they had been married six months I notice they have quit holding each other's hands, and now you seldom see them together much.
With how few married couples who have been married six years do you see that suppleness and alertness, that zeal to please each other, and be with one another that you see in couples about to be married.”
Charles Herne thought, ”Why is this so?” Why could not the same attractive power which exists between some couples when they are married be continued? Charles Herne did not know, his wife Clara Herne was no wiser than he on that subject, though neither of them had made their feelings known to the other.
CHAPTER XV.
A CONVERSATION ON THE PORCH.
Penloe had heard several times in regard to Charles Herne being an exceptionally fine man, liberal in thoughts, as far as he went, very just and generous to his men, so that the day that Penloe received a very kind invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Herne to be their guest for a few days, he accepted it knowing intuitively that he had a work to do there.
As a guest Penloe was not always talkative, but what he did say was very interesting. He made himself one with men and they all took a great liking to him; Mr. and Mrs. Herne were very much impressed with the personality of their distinguished guest, and they enjoyed his visit with them. He had been several times there since his first visit, and they had become great friends.
Charles Herne remarked to his wife one day: ”What a genial, sociable, humorous companion Penloe is; while of course, he is thoroughly in earnest and has but one purpose in all he does, which is to manifest what he calls the Divine, yet he is not serious, sober, and grave all the time; he is so joyous, hopeful, and full of good-natured fun, but he never lets it overcome him. I like him because he never says and does anything for effect or to be considered smart; he is so simple, humble, and una.s.suming in his manners, keeping himself in the background. His influence on me is so different to that of any other man, and impresses me very deeply. I always feel a better man after a talk with him. In short, I feel his fine influence in the room even when he is silent. He gave the men a powerful talk in their parlors the other evening. He has a faculty for adapting himself to each one; just knows what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. Several of the men have made the remark to me that he is a very dear brother to them.”
He had visited the men several times since, and they had become great friends. Any one in a very short acquaintance with Penloe could not help being impressed with his sincerity of character, his genuineness and honesty of purpose, as well as his deep spirituality. Therefore, it naturally follows that he would attract the confidence of his friends.