Part 24 (1/2)
He was disappointed when Janet delivered the message, and going up stairs opened the door of their sleeping apartment; but Mary's eyes were closed, and fearful of disturbing her, he quietly returned to the parlour and endeavoured to amuse himself with a book until his usual hour of going to rest.
The next morning all seemed as usual; for sleep has a renovating power on the mind as well as the body, and in little troubles as well as in great.
Husband and wife spoke affectionately to each other, and secretly wondered how such trifles could have disturbed them; but no allusion was made to the subject, for the very reason that the unpleasant feeling which had arisen between them had sprung from so trifling a cause. The trouble could scarcely be defined, and therefore they judged it better to say nothing about it. In some cases this is well, but, generally, it is better to speak openly even of little difficulties; especially those which may arise in the first part of married-life, as this frankness enables husband and wife to gain an insight into all those trifling peculiarities of character which each may possess, and on attention to which, much of their future happiness may depend.
Weeks and months pa.s.sed on, and, apparently, all was going happily with our young friends. Mary had become more accustomed to pa.s.sing some hours of each day alone, and her solitude was frequently enlivened by a visit from her mother, sister, or some young friend of her school-girl days. Arthur still appeared devotedly attached to her, and she certainly returned his affection most sincerely, and yet both felt that there was a change. It could scarcely be defined, and no cause could be a.s.signed for it. They would have indignantly rejected the idea, that they loved each other less than formerly, but there was certainly less sympathy between them; they were not so closely united in every thought and feeling as they once had been.
No unkind words had pa.s.sed on either side, at least none which could really be regarded as such, for the trifles which had gradually produced this feeling of separation were almost too insignificant to call forth absolute unkindness; yet still they did their work slowly but surely.
Mary was the petted child of indulgent parents. Arthur had early lost both father and mother, and his childhood had pa.s.sed with but little of the genial effects of female influence. He had spent most of his time at a school for boys, where, although his intellect was well cultivated, and his morals strictly attended to, there was little done to call forth those warm affections of which every young heart is susceptible. And as he grew to manhood, although his principles were excellent, and his feelings warm and tender, there was a want of that kindliness and gentleness of manner, and above all, of that peculiar faculty of adapting himself to the wants of a female heart, which would not have existed had he been blessed with the care of a mother, or the affectionate sympathy of a sister.
His acquaintance with Mary before their marriage had been of short duration, and these traits in his character had pa.s.sed un.o.bserved during the excitement of feeling which generally marks the days of courts.h.i.+p; but as this state pa.s.sed away, and his usual habits returned, Mary's sensitive heart was often wounded by trifling inattentions, although never by wilful neglect. Arthur was fond of study, and in his leisure hours he would sometimes become so entirely absorbed in some favourite author, that even Mary's presence was forgotten, and the evening pa.s.sed away without any effort on his part to cheer her evidently drooping spirits. Not that he was really selfish: it was mere thoughtlessness, and ignorance of those attentions which a woman's heart demands. If Mary had requested him to lay aside his graver studies and read aloud in some work interesting to her, or pa.s.s an hour in cheerful conversation, or listening to music, he would have complied without hesitation, and, indeed, with pleasure; but she remained silent, secretly yearning for little acts of kindness, which never entered the mind of her husband. Another peculiarity which gave the young wife much pain, was that Arthur never or very rarely uttered words of commendation or approval. If anything was wrong he noticed it at once, and requested a change; but if right, he never praised. This is a common error, and it is a great one. Approval from those we love is as refres.h.i.+ng to the human heart as the dew to the fading flower; and to at woman's heart it is _essential_: without it all kindly affections wither away; the softest, most delicate feelings become blunted and hard; the heart no longer beats with warm, generous emotions--it is cold, palsied, and dead.
Even in the most trifling details of domestic life, approval is encouraging and sweet. The weary wife and mother who has pa.s.sed through a day of innumerable little vexations and difficulties, is cheered by the pleasant smile with which her husband takes his seat at the tea-and feels new life as she listens to his commendations of some favourite dish which she has placed before him.
True, it is but a trifle, but it speaks to the heart.
We will give our readers a short specimen of the habit to which we allude. Breakfast was on the table, and a part of the hot cakes and smoking ham had been duly transferred to Arthur's plate. He ate sparingly, and his looks plainly showed that something was wrong.
Presently he said--”Mary, dear, I think you must look a little more strictly after Janet. She grows very careless; this bread is decidedly sour, the ham is half cooked, and worse than all, breakfast is ten minutes too late.”
Mary's quiet reply, that she would ”endeavour to have it right another time,” was quite satisfactory; pleasant remarks followed, and Arthur left home with a cheerful good morning.
Another breakfast time arrived. Mary's own personal attention had secured sweet bread, and she had risen half an hour earlier than usual to insure that all was done properly and in season.
Punctually the well prepared dishes were placed upon the table, again Arthur's plate was well filled, and, to do him justice, its contents were eaten with keen relish; but no look or word of approval was given to show that he understood and appreciated the effort which had been made to meet his wishes.
All was right, and therefore there was nothing to say. To some this might have been satisfactory, but not to Mary. She longed for a word or smile to show that she had given pleasure.
But it is not to be supposed that all these petty causes of complaint were on one side. Arthur often felt grieved and somewhat irritated by Mary's altered manner or moody silence, showing that he had offended in ways unknown to himself; and there were also times when her ridicule of his somewhat uncultivated taste granted harshly on his feelings. Her continued dislike to the ”dear old place” was another source of regret; and before the first year of married life had expired, feelings had sometimes been busy in both their hearts which they would have shuddered to have confessed even to themselves.
Winter and spring had pa.s.sed away, and summer was again present with its birds and flowers. Mary was in her garden one lovely afternoon arranging some favourite plants, when her attention was attracted to a small cart laden with some strange old-fas.h.i.+oned-looking furniture, which had stopped at their gate. She at first supposed that the driver wished to inquire the way, but to her surprise he carefully lifted a large easy-chair, covered with leather and thickly studded with bra.s.s nails, from the wagon, and brought it toward the house, bowing respectfully as he approached her, and inquiring where she wished to have it put.
”There is some mistake,” said Mary; ”these things are not for us.”
”Mr. Hartwell sent them here, ma'am,” was the reply; ”and here is a bit of a note for your leddys.h.i.+p.”
Mary received the proffered slip of paper, and hastily read the following lines:--
”You will be pleased, dear Mary, to find that I have at length discovered the purchaser of my mother's easy-chair, and the old clock which formerly stood in our family sitting-room, and have bought them of him for a moderate price. They are valuable to me as mementos of my boyish days, and you will value them for my sake.”
But Mary had a great dislike to old clocks, and leather-bottomed chairs, and she was little disposed to value them even for Arthur's sake. She, however, directed the man where to place them, and returned to the employment which he had interrupted. Arthur's business demanded his attention until a late hour that evening, and he had said when he left home that he should take tea in the city.
Mary retired to rest before his return, and nothing was said concerning the old furniture until the following morning.
Indeed, it seemed so perfectly worthless to Mary, that the recollection of it had pa.s.sed from her mind; but it was recalled by the sudden inquiry of her husband as he finished dressing and prepared to go down stairs.
”Oh, Mary, dear, where did you have the old chair and clock placed?
Was I not fortunate to find them?”
”Very,” replied Mary, with forced interest; ”although I hardly know what you will do with them. I had them put in the shed for the present.”