How to Cook Husbands Part 14

"Don't say that," I urged, laying my hand on hers again; "you close the gate of heaven when you say 'no hope.' There is always hope as long as there is a spark of life-any physician will tell you that. If you can be patient-be strong to bear, and wait-if you can make home bright, and not care, or not seem to care if he slights it and you, for weeks-months, maybe years-it takes so much longer to undo, than to do-there is _every_ hope. He couldn't do this, but a woman-a real woman, is strong enough, with G.o.d on her side."

The dullness left her face, and an unselfish light dawned in its place.

As she rose to go, she leaned over the other figure, and he looked up at her, with something of the old-time love.

I replenished the fire after they had gone-they went out together-and as I sat there thinking of it all, I heard a sudden rus.h.i.+ng sound in the street.

I ran to the door, just in time to see a farm wagon, drawn by two strong horses, go pell-mell past my house, and overturn, as the frightened animals dashed around the corner. The neighborhood was agog in a moment, and I joined the rest in trying to help the occupants of the broken vehicle. We brought them into the house-the man and woman and a little child.

As soon as they were in the light, I knew them; they were some of my people-a German family, by the name of Abraham, who lived on a little farm just outside our suburb. They had been to me typical representatives of a stupid cla.s.s, who have all the hards.h.i.+ps of life, and none of its soft lights and shades. They were the kind that plant their pig-sty on the lake side of their house-put the pig-sty betwixt them and every other beauty, it seemed to me. What can life hold for such people? They know nothing of love, or any other joy. Merely an animal existence is theirs.

We fetched a doctor as speedily as possible-the parents were merely bruised, but the little child was badly hurt. At first we feared she was dying, and it was a relief to be told that she would probably live.

I went out of the room to get some bandages, and the doctor followed me.

Returning suddenly, I ran upon an unexpected scene; up to that time, before us all, the parents had seemed perfectly stolid; but just as I opened the door, the wife and mother rose from her knees by the bed, and I have seldom seen a look more expressive of tender love than that with which her husband took her in his arms.

We have many things to learn in the next world; one of these, I am sure, will be, not to judge by the life upon the surface. There is a deep fount of feeling beneath, and often it is those whom we least suspect, who dip down into it.

I was still busy with these people, when Randolph Chance walked in upon me. His kind heart needed no prompting to join in our little attentions, and he was of especial use in getting a vehicle to take the family home.

After they had gone, and we found ourselves alone, a great embarra.s.sment seemed to seize him in a fatal grasp.

By and by I realized that I was really getting incensed, and I was afraid I should soon be in the position of the man who went to another, whom he had ill-treated, to apologize for his bad conduct, and, "By Jove, sir"-to use his own phrase, "I hit him again."

I tried to keep my letter before my eyes. I didn't want to be forced by that inexorable tyrant-conscience-to write another. And I should, if I didn't hold on to myself, and this man didn't behave differently.

To avoid a clash, I set to work to clear away some of the confusion consequent upon the accident, and he helped me in this.

One would suppose that might serve to cool him, and it did indeed, to such an extent that, upon our settling down again, he began the most commonplace conversation, giving me some incidents of his trip; discussing the scenery; weather; population, and general aspects of Buffalo; with much more of the dryest, most disagreeable stuff, that a man ever had the temerity to use, as a means of wasting a woman's evening.

To employ a childish phrase-it best fits the occasion-I grew madder and madder, until at last matters within me rose to such a height, that when he began to tell of his brother's house in Buffalo, and to dwell upon the peculiarities of its furniture, I felt peculiar enough to hurl all of mine at him.

The number of things I thought of that evening would form a library of energetic literature. Among other resolves, I determined from that day on, if I lived till my hair whitened-lived till I raised my third or fourth crop of teeth, never, _never_, to give Randolph Chance another thought. There was one comfort: he did not know, nor did any one else, what a complete goose I had made of myself; but, though I _had_ been most foolish, thanks to a sober, Puritanic ancestry, I still had myself in hand; my hysterics had been occasional and secluded, and I was not wholly gone daft. I could recover; I would! and then, if ever he came to my feet, he would learn that some things don't rise, after once they are cold.

I was calm enough when he at last decided to go, and instead of running on excitedly, as I had been vaguely conscious of doing part of the evening, I really conversed. Indeed, to speak modestly, I think I was rather interesting. I had forgotten what he had called for. So had he-apparently.

All I hoped was that he did not intend to bore me with frequent repet.i.tions of this call. I had better use for my evenings than such waste of time as chatting with him. I cast about me for some suitable excuse to shut off future inflictions, and at last hit upon one that I thought might answer.

"I suppose I must sacrifice myself for a while," I said cheerfully; "I have had a deal of business swoop down upon me, and in order to dispatch it, must shut myself up for a time, and forego the joys of society."

Instantly his old embarra.s.sment came back upon him, as a small boy's enemy-supposed to be vanquished-darts around the corner, and renews the attack.

He started to go; came back; returned to the door; again came back; colored vividly-looked at me imploringly. And as I looked at him my anger, my coldness-all vanished, and I exclaimed:

"Randolph Chance, why _don't_ you say it!"

"Some things are awfully hard to say. I can write-- Oh Constance! you might have mercy on me!"

"Well," I said, laughing-I could almost see the light upon my face-"I suppose you want me to marry you."

"You can't get away now!" he cried, a second later.

The walls heard a much-smothered voice-

"I don't want to."

Now this little scene, I suppose, is what makes Randolph always say I proposed to him. This remark, oft repeated, sometimes under very trying circ.u.mstances, is his one disagreeableness. But I let it pa.s.s without comment, for I realize it is the spout to the kettle, and I am thankful that the steam has so safe and harmless an outlet. If I were to boil him too hard, he would probably overflow, and dim the fire; but I am _very cautious_, and love still burns with a clear, bright flame.

THE END.