Part 4 (2/2)

Canning at length became so restless and wearied that he said, thinking that his wife did not probably know how late it was,--

”Come, Margaret, isn't it 'most time to go home?”

Mrs. Canning merely looked into her husband's face, but made no answer.

More earnestly than ever the ladies now appeared to enter upon the various themes for conversation that presented themselves, all of which were very frivolous to the mind of Canning, who was exceedingly chafed by his wife's indifference to his suggestion about going home. He determined, however, to say no more if she sat all night. Toward eleven o'clock she made a movement to depart, and after lingering in the parlor before she went up stairs to put on her things, and in the chamber after her things were on, and on the stairs, in the pa.s.sage, and at the door, she finally took the arm of her husband and started for home. Not a word was uttered by either until they had walked the distance of two squares, when Margaret, unable to keep back what she wanted to say any longer, spoke thus,--

”James, I will thank you, another time, when we are spending an evening out, not to suggest as publicly as you did to-night that it is time to go home. It's very bad manners, let me tell you, in the first place; and in the second place, I don't like it at all. I do not wish people to think that I have to come and go just at your beck or nod. I was about starting when you spoke to me, but sat an hour longer just on purpose.”

The mind of Canning, already fretted, was set on fire by this.

”You did?” he said.

”Yes, I did. And I can tell you, once for all, that I wish this to be the last time you speak to me as you did to-night.”

It was as much as the impatient spirit of Canning could do to keep from replying--

”It's the last time I will ever speak to you at all,” and then leaving her in the street, with the intention of never seeing her again. But suddenly he thought of Lilly, and the presence of the child in his mind kept back the mad words from his lips. Not one syllable did he utter during their walk home, although his wife said much to irritate rather than soothe him. Nor did a sentence pa.s.s his lips that night.

At the breakfast table on the next morning, the husband and wife were coldly polite to each other. When the meal was completed, Canning retired to his office, and his wife sought her chamber to weep. The latter half repented of what she had done, but her contrition was not hearty enough to prompt to a confession of her fault. The fact that she considered her husband to blame, stood in the way of this.

Reserve and coldness marked the intercourse of the unhappy couple for several weeks; and then the clouds began to break, and there were occasional glimpses of suns.h.i.+ne.

But, before there was a clear sky, some trifling occurrence put them again at variance. From this time, unhappily, one circ.u.mstance after another transpired to fret them with each other, and to separate, rather than unite them. Daily, Canning grew more cold and reserved, and his wife met him in a like uncompromising spirit. Even their lovely child--their darling blue-eyed Lilly--with her sweet little voice and smiling face, could not soften their hearts toward each other.

To add fuel to this rapidly enkindling fire of discord, was the fact that Mrs. Canning was on particularly intimate terms with the wife of a man toward whom her husband entertained a settled and well-grounded dislike, and visited her more frequently than she did any one of her friends. He did not interfere with her in the matter, but it annoyed him to hear her speak, occasionally, of meeting Mr.

Richards at his house, and repeating the polite language he used to her, when he detested the character of Richards, and had not spoken to him for more than a year.

One day Mrs. Canning expressed a wish to go in the evening to a party.

”It will be impossible for me to go to-night, or, indeed, this week,” Canning said. ”I am engaged in a very important case, which will come up for trial on Friday, and it will take all my time properly to prepare for it. I shall be engaged every evening, and perhaps late every night.”

Mrs. Canning looked disappointed, and said she thought he might spare her one evening.

”You know I would do so, Margaret, with pleasure,” he replied, ”but the case is one involving too much to be endangered by any consideration. Next week we will go to a party.”

When Canning came home to tea, he found his wife dressed to go out.

”I'm going to the party, for all you can't go with me,” said she.

”Indeed! With whom are you going?”

”Mrs. Richards came in to see me after dinner, when I told her how much disappointed I was about not being able to go to the party to-night. She said that she and her husband were going, and that it would give them great pleasure to call for me. Am I not fortunate?”

”But you are not going with Mr. and Mrs. Richards?”

”Indeed I am! Why not?”

”Margaret! You must not go.”

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