The Wedding Guest Part 12

"I am going to California!" he said, almost sternly, for he feared Elma's tenderness might unman him.

"Not without me?" she asked, with pleading eyes.

"Yes! Elma, I cannot take you, for I shall be constantly travelling, and subject to the greatest hards.h.i.+ps,--you could not bear it! I shall be back in a year and a half."

"I could bear anything better than to be left behind--you do not know as well as I what would be the greatest hards.h.i.+p for me. Ah!

Horace, do not put me to this dreadful trial. Let me go with you, and you will find that I will not utter a complaint. You can leave me at some place, while you travel over the roughest country--you may be sick, and need me. I fear men grow hard and selfish there, and what you gain in purse, you may lose in what is dearest to me.

'It is not good for man to be alone.'"

"Hush, darling; every word is vain!" answered Horace, clasping her to his breast, and kissing her with pa.s.sionate vehemence. For the first time in his life he wept without any restraint over her. "Do you think anything but duty would tear me from you? It is my duty to be just to all men, and to pay what I owe as soon as I can."

"But take me!" sobbed Elma.

"Dear child! you must be reasonable. I know that you fear the influence about me will not be as angelically pure as your own, and I love you for that fear. I shall go where no man will care for my soul as you do; but I shall not forget you, Elma. Now, cheer up, and show me the ready resolution you have always had at hand."

"I never had such a cruel blow as this before!" returned Elma, in an entire abandonment of grief. "Oh! take me with you, Horace, and nothing in the world will be hard for me."

The wife's pleadings were vain, and in a week she parted from her husband. After he had gone, she won back a spirit of resignation; indeed, as soon as she found her doom was sealed, she gathered up her strength, and strove to cheer Horace, whose spirits sunk miserably when he had no longer to support Elma. She laid out a plan for her life during her widowhood, as she called it, and this plan was after the example of One who went about doing good. The weary time pa.s.sed slowly, but each day added a little gem to Elma's heavenly life, and when, at length, she received her husband's last letter before his return, her thanks gushed forth in gladness, as they had so often before done, in holy confidence. Part of his letter ran thus:--

And now, dear love, having told you of the outward success which has met my efforts, let me tell you a little of the heart that belongs to you--which you have won from darkness to light. It is filled with images of hope and love, and a light from your spirit s.h.i.+nes through all--have been ever with me, ever leading me to that 'true light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.' I often gave you pain, my darling, when we were together; it was unintentional, and sprang from the evil of my nature; and a thousand times, when you did not suspect it, your gentle look and touch brought to my spirit better thoughts, and the thoughts brought better words and deeds. You have been the angel of my life still more during our separation; for my soul has yearned for your dear presence constantly, and every day I have said to myself, 'Would this please Elma?' and when I have been enabled to do a kindness, my heart glowed at the thought of Elma's approval. Your blessed spirit never seems so near to me as when I lift up my soul in prayer. I sometimes fancy your prayers, beloved, have unlocked the Kingdom of Heaven for me. Good bye, dearest life, we shall soon meet.

HORACE."

And when they met, the joy of their first wedding days seemed doubled. Elma rejoiced at the discipline she had been through, for it had better fitted her for the joyful existence that was before her. It had now become more of a habit for her soul to dwell in a heavenly atmosphere--she had learned to rely steadfastly upon her G.o.d for the good gifts of her life, and they were showered upon her abundantly; doubly beautiful, they were shared by a heart in unison.

LIVING LIKE A LADY.

MR. HAMILTON BURGESS was a man of limited means, but having married a beautiful and amiable woman, he resolved to spare no expense in surrounding her with comforts, and in supporting her, as he said, "like a lady."

"My dear Ammy," said Mrs. Burgess, to her indulgent husband, about a year after their marriage--"My dear Ammy"--this was the name she called him by _at home_--"you are too kind to me, altogether. You are unwilling that I should work, or do anything towards our support, when I actually think that a little exertion on my part would not only serve to lighten your expenses, but be quite as good for my health and spirits as the occupations to which my time is now devoted."

"Oh, you industrious little bee!" exclaimed Mr. Burgess, "you have great notions of making yourself useful, I declare! But, Lizzie, I shall never consent to your propositions. I did not marry you to make you my slave. When you gave me this dear hand, I resolved that it should never be soiled and made rough by labour--and it never shall, as long as I am able to attend to my business."

Mrs. Burgess would not have done anything to displease her husband for the world, and she accordingly allowed him to have his way without offering farther remonstrance.

But Hamilton's business was dull, and it required the greatest exertion on his part, and the severest application, to raise sufficient money to meet the daily expenses of his family.

"My affairs will be in a better state next year," he said to himself, "and I must manage to struggle through this dull season some way or another. I will venture to run in debt a little, I think; for any way is preferable to reducing our household expenditures, which are by no means extravagant. At all events, Lizzie must not know what my circ.u.mstances are, for she would insist upon a change in our style of living, and revive the subject of doing something towards our support."

Mr. Burgess then ventured to run in debt a little; he did not attempt to reduce the expenses of his housekeeping; he never gave his wife a hint respecting the true state of his business matters, but insisted upon her accepting, as usual, a liberal allowance of funds to meet her private expenses.

Lizzie seemed quite happy in her ignorance of her husband's circ.u.mstances, never spoke again of a.s.sisting to support the establishment, but seemed to devote herself to the pursuit of quiet pleasures, and to procuring Hamilton's happiness. But Mr. Burgess's circ.u.mstances, instead of improving, grew continually worse. His venture of "running in debt a little," resulted in running in debt a great deal. Thus the second year of his married life pa.s.sed, and the dark shadows of disappointed hope and the traces of corroding care began to change the aspect of his brow.

One day a friend said to Hamilton--

"I am surprised at your conduct! Here you are, making a slave of yourself, while your wife is playing the lady. She is not to blame; it is _you_. She would gladly do something for her own support, if you would permit her; and it would be better for her and for you.

Remember the true saying--

'Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do!'"

"What do you mean?" demanded Hamilton, reddening.

"I mean that, _generally speaking_, young wives of an ardent temperament, when left to themselves, with nothing but their pleasures to occupy their minds, are apt to forget their husbands, and find enjoyment in such society as he might not altogether approve."

"Sir, you do not know my wife," exclaimed Hamilton. "She, thank Heaven, is not one of those."

"I hope not," was the quiet reply.

Although Hamilton Burgess had not a jealous nature, and would never have entertained unjust suspicions of his wife, these words of his friend set him to thinking. He remembered that Lizzie was always happy, however he might be oppressed with cares; and now he wondered how it was that she could be so unmindful of everything except pleasure, while he was so constantly hara.s.sed. The consistent Mr.

Hamilton Burgess undoubtedly forgot that he had taken the utmost pains to conceal his circ.u.mstances from his wife.

It was in this state of mind that Mr. Burgess one day left his business, and went home unexpectedly. It was at an hour when Lizzie least thought of seeing him, and on this occasion she appeared considerably embarra.s.sed; nor did Mr. Burgess fail to observe that she was very tardy in making her appearance in the sitting-room.

On another occasion, Mr. Burgess returned home under similar circ.u.mstances, and going directly to his wife's room, found, to his astonishment, that he could not gain admittance. After some delay, however, during which Hamilton heard footsteps hurrying to and fro within, and whispering, Mrs. Burgess opened the door, and, blus.h.i.+ng very red, attempted to apologize for not admitting him before.

"Who was with you?" demanded Hamilton.

"With _me_?" cried Lizzie, much confused.

"Yes, madam. I heard whispering, and I am sure somebody just pa.s.sed through that side door."

"Oh, that was n.o.body but Margaret!" exclaimed Mrs. Burgess, hastily.

Hamilton could ill conceal his vexation; but he did not intimate to his wife that he suspected her of equivocation, nor did she see fit to attempt a full exposition of the matter.

Nothing was said of this incident afterwards; but for many weeks it occupied Hamilton's mind. All this time he was hara.s.sed with cares of business, and his brow became more darkly shrouded in gloom as his perplexities thickened. At last the crisis came! Mr. Burgess saw the utter impossibility of longer continuing his almost profitless trade, under heavy expenses, which not only absorbed his small capital, but actually plunged him into debt. But one honest course was left for him to pursue; and he resolved to close up his affairs, and sell off what stock he had to pay his debts.

It was at this time that Mr. Burgess saw in its true light the error of which he had been guilty, in opposing his wife's desire to economize, and devote a portion of her time to useful occupation.

"Had I allowed her to lighten our expenses in this way," thought he, "I might not have been driven to such extremities. And what has been the result of my folly? Why, I have kept her ignorant of our poverty until the very last, and now the sudden intelligence that we are beggars, will well nigh kill her!"

Satisfied of the danger, if not the impossibility, of keeping the secret longer from his wife, Mr. Burgess went home one day, resolved to break the intelligence to her without hesitation. Entering the house with his latch-key, he went directly to Lizzie's room, which he entered unceremoniously. To his surprise, he found on the table a gentleman's cap, of that peculiar fas.h.i.+on which he had seen worn by postmen and dandies about town. Anxious for an explanation, he looked around for his wife; but Lizzie was not in the room. Then hearing voices in another part of the house, he left the room by a different door from that by which he had entered, and hastened to the parlour, where he expected to find Mrs. Burgess in company with the owner of _that cap_. To his surprise, he found the parlour vacant, and meeting Margaret in the hall a moment after, he impatiently demanded his wife.

"She is in the room, sir," said the domestic.

Without saying a word, Hamilton again hastened to Lizzie's room, where he found her reading a late magazine with affected indifference!

"Madam," cried he, angrily, "what does this mean? Here I have been chasing you all over the house, without being able to catch you.

What company have you just dismissed?"

"What company?" asked Lizzie.