The Wedding Guest Part 26

The slight estrangement spoken of did not wholly pa.s.s away, though so trifling were its tokens that no eye less interested than our own might have noticed their existence. Indeed, neither of the parties seemed really angry with the other, appearing rather to think it inc.u.mbent on them to keep up a certain show of coolness; but whenever the sunny smile of Emily broke even partially through the half-transparent cloud, it dissolved in an instant the half-formed ice of her husband's manner. By mutual consent the subject of the fancy ball seemed left in abeyance, and while in every circle, for miles round, it formed the central topic, in ours it was the theme forbid. Thence we tried to infer that it was a matter abandoned, and that Emily's better judgment, if not her good feeling, had determined her to give up her own liking, on this the very first occasion on which, we believe, her husband had ever thwarted it.

Well--whether, as with us, awaited in silence, or, as with the many, harbingered by the music of many voices--the grand event marched on; and a day was only wanted of its expected arrival when business called F-- to London, from whence he was not to return till late at night. Soon after his departure, which followed an early breakfast, we left Emily, as we supposed, to the business of her little household, and repaired, as was our wont, to the library,--a small apartment which our friend F-- had made the very bijou of his pretty cottage. It was tastefully fitted up in the gothic style, with a window of painted gla.s.s,--a window, by the way, especially suited to a book-room, not merely as pleasing to the eye but for a correspondence which has often struck us. The many-coloured panes, through which the light of day finds entrance, form no unfitting symbol of a library's contents, whereby the light of intelligence is poured upon the mind through as many varied mediums, from the deep, cold, black and blue of learned and scientific lore to the glowing flame colour and crimson of poetry and romance. Having taken down a choice copy of the Faery Queen, we committed our person to an ebony arm-chair, and our spirit to the magic guidance of our author's fancy. Obedient to its leading, we were careering somewhere betwixt earth and heaven, when a slight noise brought us down for a moment to our proper sphere; yet hardly,--for on looking up we beheld, standing in the wake of a coloured sun-beam, from which, on wing of gossamer, she seemed to have just descended, an unexpected apparition of surpa.s.sing grace and beauty. t.i.tania's self, just stepped upon the moonlit earth, could scarcely have stood poised on an unbroken flower-stalk, in form more airy, in att.i.tude more graceful, with countenance more radiant than those of Emily F--, as, arrayed in likeness of the Faery Queen, she thus burst upon our view, and with an air half-archly playful, half-proudly triumphant, enjoyed our bewildered surprise, and received the involuntary homage of our admiration.

We saw in a moment how the matter stood; Emily was really going to the fancy ball; and this, of the Queen of Fays, was the fantastic and too bewitching costume she had chosen to a.s.sume. Knowing her kind heart, and having believed that its best affections had been gained by her estimable husband, if not bestowed on him at first, we were vexed and disappointed in our young relation, and felt it only right to give, if we could, a check to her buoyant vanity, by letting her feel the weight of our disapproval,--shown, if not expressed. "So I see, Emily," said I, in the coldest tone, "I see, after all, that you are going to this foolish ball."

The beaming countenance of the beautiful sylph darkened in a moment, like a cosmoramic landscape. "And why not?" returned she, pettishly; "I suppose, then, you don't approve."

"_My_ approbation can be of very little import, if you possess that of your own heart, and that of your husband. Under what character, pray, does he attend you? I suppose he plays Oberon to your t.i.tania?"

Emily's face reddened. Some strong emotion heaved her bosom, and I saw that pride alone kept the starting tears from overflowing.

"Charles," said she, with an attempt at a.s.sumed indifference, "will not be there at all; I am to go with Lady Forrester."

We felt more vexed than ever, and wished to say something which might yet hinder the young wife's intention; but while considering what that something should be, or whether, indeed, our age and slight relations.h.i.+p gave a sufficient right to say anything, we looked down for a moment on our still open book. Of that moment Emily availed herself to effect an escape, and on raising our eyes we only caught a glimpse of her glittering wings as she glided through the doorway. Our first impulse was to recall her; our next thought, to leave her to herself. If her better nature still struggled, remonstrance of ours, we considered, might only serve to set wounded pride against it; and wounded pa.s.sions, like wounded bravoes, fight most desperately. We saw no more of our young hostess till the hour of dinner, to which we sat down to a _tete-a-tete._ Emily's sweet face had regained all its usual expression of good humour, and by almost an excess of attention, and an effort at more than ordinary liveliness, she strove to make amends for the slight ebullition of temper stirred up by the morning's incident; but her sociability seemed forced, and we felt that our own was much of the same description.

Our after-dinner sitting was soon ended for an evening stroll. It had been a sultry day towards the end of August; the lazy zephyrs had been all asleep since noontide; so, with a view to meet the first of them which should happen to be stirring, we directed our steps towards a high open heath, or common. Its summit was crowned by a magnificent beech, towards which we slowly ascended, under a shower of darts levelled by the declining sun; and, on arriving at the tree, were right glad to seat ourselves on the circular bench which surrounded its smooth and bulky bole.

Here, in addition to the welcome boons of rest and shade, we were presented gratis with the exhibition of a finer panorama, than the Messrs. Barker ever yet produced.

What a scene of tranquil splendour lay before us! one of those glowing pictures of the declining day and declining year, whereon, like a pair of dying painters, they seem to have combined their utmost skill and richest colours in order to exceed, in a last effort, all the productions of their meridian prime.

After a few moments of silent admiration, we were on the point of exclaiming to our young companion, "Oh! who could prefer the most brilliant ball-rooms to a scene like this?" but we checked the impulse; for perhaps, thought we, the "still small voice," which speaks from all around us, is even now whispering to her heart. But never, we believe, was adder more deaf to the accents of the "charmer" than was Emily at that moment to those of nature. Her mind, we are pretty sure, was still running, and all the faster as she approached it, on that fancy ball. Perhaps she suspected that ours was following the same turn, and knowing of old our habit of making observations upon insects, she, by a little womanly artifice, availed herself of it to divert their course. Pointing with her parasol to a long procession of brown ants, which were crossing the foot-worn area beneath the tree,--"Look," said she, "I suppose they are going home to bed."

"Or perhaps to a ball," rejoined we, "quite unable to resist the pleasure of taking our fair cousin in her own _ruse_; but let us follow them, and see."

Emily was delighted at having, as she thought, so ingeniously set us on our hobby, and attended us to the spot whither we had traced the little labourers. Their populous settlement bore no appearance of evening repose. Other trains were approaching in various directions, to meet that which we had followed, and a mult.i.tude was covering the conical surface of, the ant-hill, as if taking a farewell bask in the glowing sunset. Amidst the congregated many, and distinguished from the common herd by very superior bulk and four resplendent wings, were several individual ants, which Emily (as well she might) mistook for flies, and inquired accordingly what could be their business in such incongruous society. "They are no flies," said we, "but ants themselves--female ants,--though with somewhat of the air, certainly, of being in _masquerade_ or _fancy costume_. But say what we will of their attire, we must needs confess that they are in their proper places; for they are the _matrons_ of the community, and, as we see, they are _at home_."

Our young companion made no reply; but stooping down, seemed wholly engrossed by examination of the ant-hill. "Look," exclaimed she, presently; "there is one of these portly dames without any wings at all. I suppose some of her neighbours have taken up a spite against her, and combined to strip her of her glittering appendages."

"By no means," we answered, "_she has laid them aside by her own voluntary act._ Only see, my dear Emily, here is one of her sisters even now employed in the business of disrobing."

We both stooped, and watched narrowly the curious operation to which we had directed our young friend's attention. One of the larger insects in question was actively employed in agitating her wings, bringing them before her head, crossing them in every direction, throwing them from side to side, and producing so many singular contortions as to cause them all four to fall off at the same moment, leaving her reduced to the same condition as her wingless sister. Fatigued, apparently, by her late efforts, she reposed awhile, after the accomplishment of her purpose, brushed her denuded corselet with her feet, and then proceeding to burrow in the soft earth of the hillock, was speedily lost to our observation. "How very odd!" said Emily; "what can possibly be the meaning of such a strange, unnatural proceeding?"

"I will tell you," replied we, "that which has been thought fully to explain its intention. This insect female, in common with her sisters, has. .h.i.therto been privileged to lead a life of entire indolence and pleasure. A few days since, having risen from her lowly birth-place on those discarded pinions, we might have seen her disporting in the air with some gay and gallant companions, of inferior size, but winged like herself. But now her career of pleasure, though not of happiness, being at an end, her life of usefulness is about to begin, and, in character of a matron, she is called to the performance of such domestic duties as will henceforth confine her to the precincts of her home.

"Of what use now, therefore, are the glittering wings which adorned and became her in her earlier youth? Their possession might only, perchance, have tempted her to desert the post which Nature, under Divine guidance, has instructed her to fill. Obedient to its teaching, she has thus despoiled herself of the showy pinions which (essential to her enjoyment in the fields of air) would only have enc.u.mbered her in the narrower but more important sphere of home."

Emily listened in silence to our lecture on Entomology, which must have been delivered, we suppose, with peculiar clearness, as she did not, according to her usual custom, follow it up by any further inquiry or comment. We soon afterwards bid adieu to the insect community, and wended our way homewards.

F-- returned from London the same evening; but availing ourselves of an old friend's freedom, we had retired to bed before his arrival.

Next morning ushered in the day, "the great, the important day" of the fancy ball--neither "heavily" nor "in clouds;" yet greatly did we fear that the pleasant suns.h.i.+ne which greeted our opening eyes would be met with no answering beams at the breakfast-table of our friends.

How agreeably, therefore, were we surprised, when, on entering the parlour, we at once perceived an expression of more perfect serenity on the countenances both of F-- and his pretty wife, than had been worn by either since the day of that confounded invitation.

"Ah!" thought we, "it's pretty plain how the matter is ended; that wicked little fairy has wrought her charms for something--has carried her point--and will carry her willing captive to the ball.

What poor weak fools fond husbands are! Thank heaven that--Well!

perhaps better so than worse."

Breakfast proceeded; chat in plenty; but not a syllable about the fancy ball; till, bursting to know how the case, so long pending, had really ended, we ventured on a pumping query--"At what hour, Emily," said we, "does Lady Forrester come to take you to the ball?"

"I have written to prevent her calling."

"Oh, then, you are going under other escort?" and we looked slyly at F--.

"I am not going at all," said Emily.

Here she put in ours her little white hand, and looked up archly in our face,--_"I am not going, for I have laid aside my wings!"_

"My good fellow!" said F--, as he took our other hand; "you deserve to be made President of the Entomological Society."

Pa.s.sAGES FROM A YOUNG WIFE'S DIARY.

THE following pa.s.sages from the diary of a young English wife may be read with profit here. The lesson taught is well worth treasuring in the memory.

_May_ 1.--Just three months to-day since William and I were married.

What a happy time it has been, and how quickly it has pa.s.sed! I am determined to begin and keep a journal again as I used to do before I married, if it be only to mark how the days go by--one happier than the other. How different from the days of our long courts.h.i.+p, when there was always something to be anxious about; whilst now, nothing but death can ever part us, and it seems to me as if all the trials of life must be easy to bear when borne together. Dear William! How kind he has been to me, and how cheerful and good-tempered he always is. He was saying only this morning that he did not think we had had a single _tiff_ since we married; and I am sure it would have been my fault if we had. Grat.i.tude alone ought to keep me from quarrelling with William, if nothing else would, considering all he has done for me. How nice he made this place ready for me when we married! I cannot think how he ever contrived to save enough out of his salary to buy such handsome furniture. To be sure he always says that it is my setting it off so well that makes it look better than it is; and yet, except the muslin curtains to the window, and the table-cover, and my work-box, and the flowers, I have not done much. I almost wish he had left me more to do, for time does hang heavy on my hands sometimes when he is away.

I wish that some of my neighbours would make acquaintance with me; for I know no one hereabouts. That Mrs. Smith who lives next door, looked towards the window as she pa.s.sed this morning, and seemed inclined to stop--I only wish she would; it would be so pleasant to have a neighbour occasionally coming in for a chat, and I should pick up a bit of news perhaps to tell William in the evening. Now I think of it, I will just go up stairs and take a look at his s.h.i.+rts; it is just possible that there may be a b.u.t.ton off, though they were all new when he married; or perhaps his stockings want running at the heels. I wonder I did not think of that before. There is nothing like preventing holes from coming.

_May_ 2.--Told William last night of my plan of keeping a diary, and he thinks it a good one, and has given me the old ledger, in which he says I can scribble away as much as I like. And really, after writing so much as I used for Aunt Morris, it is easier I believe for me than for most people to write down what happens each day and what pa.s.ses in my mind. To my great surprise, who should come in this morning but Mrs. Smith, from next door! One would think she had peeped over my shoulder, and seen what I wrote about her yesterday--but she says that she has long been thinking of coming in, only she did not know whether I should be inclined to be sociable. She seems a most respectable and pleasant kind of person, and really quite superior to the other people in the lane. She said she felt sure by my looks as she had seen me going to church on Sunday with William, that I was not a common sort of person, and said moreover that William was a very genteel-looking young man, and remarkably like a nephew of hers who is in quite a large way of business in Manchester. Mrs. Smith admires my room very much, only she says her house has an advantage over ours, in having a pa.s.sage, instead of the front door opening into the room. She had, in fact, a part.i.tion put up after she came, to divide one off, and says it is astonis.h.i.+ng how much more comfortable it makes the place, besides looking more genteel. I have often wondered myself that William did not choose a house that had this convenience, and I am sure it will be cold in winter to have the door opening right into one's room in this way, besides making the chimney smoke. Mrs. Smith has asked me to look in, as often as I can, and says it will be quite a charity to sit with her now and then, she is so lonely.

_May_ 3.--I think William is glad that I am at liberty to have a friendly neighbour--only he says he is afraid that Mrs. Smith is rather above us in the world, and might not suit our humble ways. I do not think this, however; but if it were so, I would rather a.s.sociate with those who are above me than below me. I mentioned to William what she told me about the alteration she had made in her house, but he did not seem as if he thought it would be so great an improvement. After breakfast I put on my bonnet and shawl, and went in to Mrs. Smith's. She keeps a little maid-servant, I find, which I had no idea of before. I found her sitting at work quite in style, and really it is quite astonis.h.i.+ng how snug her house seems in consequence of the alteration she has made. The sitting-room is of course so much smaller, but that is nothing compared to the comfort of the pa.s.sage; I should not have thought that the houses could ever have been built alike, hers is so superior to ours. To be sure the style of her furniture is perhaps better than ours, and the papering handsomer, and her carpet goes all over her room, and she has a very handsome hearth-rug. Altogether I could not help fancying our place looked quite mean and shabby after I came back. But then I said to myself, that William and I were after all only beginning the world, and who knows what we may not be able to do by-and-by. Nothing is more likely than that William should have his salary raised in a year or two, and perhaps some day go into business himself.

_May_ 4.--William got home nice and early last night, and read aloud to me for more than an hour. It was very kind of him, and the book was very interesting, but somehow or other I think I would rather have talked to him. I wanted to tell him several things that Mrs.

Smith had said to me--especially about the putting up of that part.i.tion being such a trifling expense. I did get it said at last; but it is astonis.h.i.+ng how little he seems to care about what would be such a great improvement to our place. Of course he cannot understand as well as I do how disagreeable it is for people to be coming to the door, and lifting the latch and looking straight in at me as I sit at work--just the same as in any cottage in the country.

I think William rather forgets that I never was accustomed to this kind of thing at home. Last night even, when the postman came; if he had not been so anxious to read his letter, he might have noticed how the draught from the open door made the candle flare, and the tallow ran down all over my nice bright candlestick. The letter was from his father, asking him to give a couple of pounds toward's fitting out his brother George for Australia. William means to send it, I see, and really I am very glad that he can a.s.sist his relations, and should never think of saying a word against it--only it shows that he has plenty of spare money, and that it is not so much the expense of the thing that makes him seem to dislike the idea of altering our place. He keeps saying, "My dear, I think it is very well as it is," and "My dear, it seems very comfortable to me;"

but that is no reason why it should not be better, as I tell him.

_May_ 5.--Mrs. Smith came in this morning and brought her work, to have, as she said, a friendly gossip with me. She is really a most pleasant and sociable person, and says she is sure we shall suit each other uncommonly well. I told her that I had mentioned to William about the pa.s.sage she had contrived to her house, but that he did not seem to think it would be so great an improvement. "I dare say not," said she, laughing; "husbands very often don't like new plans unless they are themselves the first to propose them; but such a young wife as you ought to have your way in such a matter." I took care to tell her that William was the kindest and most good-natured creature in the world, and that no husband could be more anxious to please a wife. "Then," said she, "if that be the case, take my word for it he will end by making the alteration you want." This quite emboldens me to say a little more to William about our having this part.i.tion put up; because I should not like Mrs.

Smith to fancy that my wishes have no weight with him. I will see what I can do to-night when he comes home.

_May_ 6.--I am afraid I vexed William last night, and only wish I could unsay two or three things that I said about the making of this pa.s.sage. I begin to think I was foolish to get such a fancy into my head. After tea, just as he was going to open out his book, I ventured to say, "I wish you would talk to-night, dear William, instead of read, for I have so little of your company." In a minute he had shut his book, and drawn his chair up to mine, and said so good-naturedly, "Well, little f.a.n.n.y, and what shall we talk about?"

that I felt quite afraid of beginning upon the subject I had in my mind. By-and-by, however, I broached it, and said I really had set my heart upon having our room altered like Mrs. Smith's, and that I was sure it would be done for very little expense, even supposing our landlord would not do it for us. William said he could not think of even asking him to do it, after having put the house into such complete repair when we came here; and he added, that he had fancied that I was pleased with the place, and thought it comfortable. "So I was, dear William," said I; "but I had no idea till I tried, how uncomfortable it is to sit in a room with a front door opening into it in this way--it is like sitting in the street." William looked so vexed as I said this, I did not speak for some time. Then all at once he said, "Well, f.a.n.n.y, as I wish you to be happy and comfortable, I suppose you must have your way in this matter. I cannot exactly say that I cannot afford it, because you know I do not spend all my salary upon housekeeping; but there were some books that I thought of buying, that, after all, I can wait for very well:--So if you like to speak to John Wilson, I dare say he would do the job as cheaply as any one--he can make an estimate of what it would cost, and let me know." I thanked William, most heartily, for his consent, and I am sure that when the pa.s.sage is once made, he will be as pleased as any one with the improvement. And yet I do not feel quite satisfied at the idea of his going without his books, and only wish he had the money for them as well.

_May_ 7.--Happening to see John Wilson pa.s.sing down the lane on the way to his work, I called him in to consult him about putting up the part.i.tion. He made a very careful measurement, and then after calculating wood-work, and paint, and time, he said he thought he could do it for two pounds ten. I thought it would not have been more than two pounds at most; but I had forgotten about the inner door, with its handle and hinges, &c. It seems a great deal of money, I must say. William's books I know would only have cost thirty s.h.i.+llings, for I have a list of them that he made one evening.

_May_ 8.--Somehow or other I could hardly make up my mind after all, last night, to tell William about John Wilson's estimate; but when I did get it said, he made me feel quite at ease by the open way in which he talked about it with me, and planned it all just as if he thought it as desirable as I do. This is particularly kind of him, because I know he thinks all the time that we could do very well without it. Before we went to bed, too, he took out the little purse in which he keeps his savings (the very purse I made him before we married), and taking out the 2 10s., told me to keep the money myself ready to pay John Wilson, as he said he might be spending it perhaps if it was not out of his way. "You know," said he, laughing, "I pa.s.s the book-shop every evening on my way home, and I cannot answer for myself." I could not help feeling very much this kindness of William's in giving up his wishes so readily to mine in the matter, and I told him so--and really it quite kept me awake half the night thinking about it. I think the very sight of that purse brought back to my remembrance how I used to say to myself that when once I was William's wife I would try so hard to make him happy, and sacrifice all my wishes to his. I began to feel that after all it would not make me half as happy to have my own way as for him to be pleased with me; and in spite of his trying not to let me see it, I cannot help fancying that he was a little hurt at my being discontented with my little home, that had given me such satisfaction at first and in which we have been so happy. I begin to think that I was foolish in being persuaded by Mrs. Smith that my snug little house wanted anything to complete my happiness.

Happiness! How ridiculous it seems to write that word in connexion with such a trifle as this. As if William and I were not too happy to care about whether our house is as good as our neighbour's! I am determined after all to give up this affair of the pa.s.sage altogether. I have half a mind--nay, I am quite, resolved, to spend the money instead upon those books for William. How surprised he will be!

_Afternoon of the same day_.--After coming to the decision I did this morning, I put on my things, and set off into the town. I don't think I ever walked faster than I did to that bookseller's shop.

Luckily they had all the books I wanted, or if they are not quite right William has only to change them afterwards. They did not cost as much as I had calculated, too, and with the discount that they gave me I had enough left for the little hanging bookshelves that William took such a fancy to at the cabinet-maker's the other day. I got them all home this afternoon--books as well as shelves--and in less than an hour after their arrival, the nail was knocked into the wall opposite the fire-place; the shelves hung, and all the books arranged upon them. How nice they look, and how pleased will dear William be when he returns! I declare I would not exchange the happiness I now feel in giving him pleasure for the finest house, with the grandest entrance to it too, that ever was built. Six o'clock: and William will be home at seven!