Chapters on wives

Preface

To those who have seen much of human life, and have been intimately associated with its joys and sorrows, there are few of our accepted aphorisms which appear less true than that all romance must necessarily cease after marriage.

Granting, however, that married life does close the door upon many outward exhibitions of a romantic nature, it is still impossible to believe that, so far as the development of character is concerned, it is not rich in that higher order of interest which includes the exercise of principle, as well as the manifestation of feeling. It is true that the great depth and reality of this interest must lie — and, indeed, ought to lie — forever buried in the hearts which it most concerns ; yet there are floating on the surface of married life, and evident to all observers, such elements of hope and fear — of peace and strife — of upward and downward progress, as are well calculated to adorn the page of fiction with some degree of novelty in addition to its truth.

As a very slight sketch of this phase of human experience, particularly developing the character of woman, I have woven the following simple stories, not without hope that they may remind some of my

IV

PREFACE.

own sex of their highest capabilities, and suggest, aj the same time, the almost unbounded extent to which they may be exercised for the welfare and happines^ of all with whom they are associated, as well as foi^ their own. S. S. E. -

Rose Hill, May, 1860.

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CHAPTERS ON WIVES.

ISABEL.

There are old-fashioned English homes which never look so lovely as in the dreamy stillness of a summer’s afternoon, just at that hour when the shadows first begin to creep in lengthened lines along the grass, and the hill-sides, sloping westward, are bathed in liquid gold. With the soft deep glow of this quiet hour there is something peculiarly harmonious in our broad homesteads, and sweep of cultivated lands, with rich umbrageous trees, and velvet pastures, and gentle billows of green corn swelling with the breeze. There is something in all this more harmonious with the hour than in those more gorgeous scenes which the traveler may boast of having seen, 'while in the secret chambers of his memory he keeps enshrined the picture of his English home, to be visited when his soul is tired with splendor and excitement, and pines for the greenness, the freshness, and repose of some valley among gently-swelling hills, where the blackbird warbles and the lambs play undisturbed among the yellow furze, and, best of all, where his own feet have trod in happy childhood.

On a smooth green terrace, stretching along one side of a noble mansion, just at this glowing time of day, sat a young English lady, in perfect keeping with the scene which spread before and around ; her face, complexion, form, and mien constituting the noblest part of that uni-

CHAPTEES ON 'WIVES.

versal harmony, of 'which her voice, 'when she spoke, 'was the sweetest and the happiest note.

It might well be happy, for she had been caroling to a rosy child, who echoed back his mother’s thrilling laugh with playful mimicry, until the merriment became real, and nurse, and child, and mother made that quiet garden ring with musical delight.

But the precious hours were passing, and the time was drawing near when Isabel Grant (for that was the lady’s name) was wont to seat herself, Avhenever the weather permitted, on a certain seat at the end of the highest terrace, from whence she could see a turn in the road leading up to the house. How women can anticipate ! It wanted yet three quarters of an hour to the appointed time. Isabel half fancied her watch must be in fault, so slowly had the hands crept onward since last she looked at it. Well, it was pleasant to sit there at all events, the view was so rich, and wide, and beautiful, and perhaps he would be returning earlier than usual that day. So she sent the nurse away to feed the swans, and, folding her white arms in an attitude of patience, sat and gazed. Little patience, indeed, would have been needed to gaze on such a scene, had there not been some event anticipated, some arrival expected, or some object looked for, of such brightness and such interest to her as to throw all others into shade.

Isabel was only looking for her husband — only ! — and he had been no farther than London, a distance of little more than twenty miles. There could be no romance in this — perhaps no poetry, only that wherever human love is deepest, strongest, purest, there must be poetry, even though it may find no utterance in verse.

Poetry there certainly was in Isabel’s own face and figure, though all unconsciously so to herself; for she was no genius, and, what is a little more rare, she was

ISABEL.

no coquette — never had been ; rather a noble, liberal, equal-tempered, true English gentlewoman — the finest type of woman.

Isabel had been married to Captain Grant rather more than two years. This was her first summer spent at home, their long tour on the Continent having kept them abroad until the previous summer was past. During the course of this tour they had visited all the favorite places of accustomed resort, and Isabel had heartily admired and enjoyed them all. But her home — her fine old English home — looked lovelier to her, on her return, than any spot of earth she had ever visited — not the less so that she was herself a true Englishwoman at heart, prone to settle down into a home as a kind of nest, or rather a place to take root in ; for to such a disposition it is absolutely necessary to take root in order to grow and flourish. There must be a w^arm and genial rootplace too — good soil in which the fibres necessary for vigorous growth may strike deep, and take lasting hold. Those who find their happiness in hurrying from place to place, and know no health of mind or body without perpetual change, can understand little of this deep roothold, or the comfort and support which it afibrds. It is, in fact, not necessary to them. They are the rambling jilants of the human garden, and can hang their lighter tendrils from bough to bough, or flaunt their blossoms in sun and breeze without asking of the earth any more substantial sustenance.

Of a very different stamp from these was the young wife of Captain Grant. The first impression made by her appearance was that of a fine woman — majestic, yet lovely ; tender in her affections, yet firm in her resolve. With hair, and eyes, and complexion of that character which we generally understand by pure Saxon, she had a noble contour of head and profile, which would scarce- A2

CnAPTEES ON WIVES.

ly have been out of place among the finest models of classic beauty ; and her neck and shoulders were almost queenly. Yet, with all this, there was that homish and domestic look about her, that cheery laugh which sets others laughing, and a kind expression in her soft blue eyes, which altogether made her so much more attractive than fearful, that all who dwelt beneath her roof, even down to the most obscure dependent, felt that they had a friend in their young mistress, whose kind consideration they believed in as implicitly as in her sound judgment and good sense.

Great, of course, had been the wonder of the domestics living in the family as to what kind of wife the dear young gentleman, their beloved master, would bring home. They knew that in him they had the best of masters — too good, they almost feared, to be mated with equal goodness. Thus they had feared, and not unreasonably, that the pleasant easy rule they had enjoyed under the captain would be exchanged for something far less pleasant under a mistress. Nor was it immediately that their fears subsided; for Isabel, with all her gentleness and love of peace, was still a disciplinarian, and did not hesitate to assume at once that just and true authority which she felt to be her right. Soon, however, all became convinced that her wise government was best for all ; and, before Isabel had guided the reins of domestic management for many w^eeks, every member of the household had learned to love her more than she w^as feared.

The consciousness of this love, and the perfect trust w’hich, in return, she reposed in those around her, added no small amount to that pure contentment which beamed almost without a cloud from Isabel’s countenance, brightening the clear beauty of her eyes, and illuminating her smile with something more than the gladness of happy

ISABEL.

youth. Her very step was that of one w^ho treads the earth without a sense of fear. Fear of personal danger there Avas no need of to one so well and faithfully supported. But those other fears — fears of being deceived, let down, disappointed — fears of being unjustly or unkindly treated — such were the fears that Isabel never knew ; and thus it was that her step, though graceful, was firm as faith itself.

Many fears there are which come naturally and necessarily Avith affliction ; but these also Isabel had never known. She had been early left an orphan, scarcely conscious of the loss of either parent, and had been as tenderly nurtured in the family of an uncle, who was her guardian, as if she had been his own child. Her inheritance, like her education, had been liberal. She was apt to learn, and generous to bestow ; equal in her temper too, self-possessed, loving justice and truth supremely, with no tendency to caprice or wayAvardness ; so that it Avas scarcely possible that Isabel should have enemies ; and being, by the nature of her circumstances as well as her own character, always plentifully supplied Avith friends, she had known no sorroAV beyond the causeless tears of childhood, or those imaginary griefs which only serve to heighten the enjoyment of a happy youth.

Something of this equanimity and contentment might be attributed, no doubt, to an excellent physical constitution. The perfect smoothness of Isabel’s finely-developed forehead, the clear untainted blue of her large soft eyes, and the rich blush which tinted but never stained her cheeks, all indicated that purity of blood and evenness of pulse which belong to perfect health ; while her figure, someAvhat beyond the middle size, yet softly and delicately formed, was so well proportioned, upright, and true to all the purposes of life and action, that it Avas

CHAPTERS ON WIVES.

evident it had known but little of the ills that flesh is heir to.

Isabel’s uncle, a naval officer, had all the strictly honorable notions of an old-fashioned English gentleman, blended with the warm afiections of a kindly heart. His theory of discipline was strict, his practice somewhat lax, for his tenderness was easily excited ; and although his temper was hasty, and his reproofs sometimes severe, he was always open to the appeals of affection, and more prone to pity than to punish, whatever the offense might be. The character of his wife was cast in a very different mould. From her Isabel had learned much, though always leaning to her uncle for that tenderness which her own nature, like his, seemed unable to do without.

If ever Isabel experienced the sensation of fear it was toward her aunt. Lady Manners ; but even in this case the sensation only served to exercise a wholesome discipline over the joyous elasticity of her youth. And from the same source, in all probability, there came that selfgovernment, as well as that courteous and considerate manner toward others, for which Isabel was so remarkable. With her uncle alone she would scarcely have acquired these valuable attainments. His buoyant nature was too easily overcome by her affectionate playfulness ; nor was there always any certainty that he would not himself be the first to break through whatever rules he might have laid down for her conduct. With her aunt it was widely different. Even the religion of Lady Manners partook of the formal and rigid character which marked her own life. But then it was religion — not merely the form, but the reality; and the self-denying consistency with which it was maintained secured for the admiral’s lady the sincere esteem of all to wffiom her integrity and worth were sufficiently known.

That Isabel loved her aunt she never permitted her-

ISABEL.

self for a moment to doubt ; and yet there were times, perhaps, when walking through the noble hall of her own mansion, or tracing at will the garden walks, or snatching up rare and precious flowers, or following out any other girlish impulse of the moment, when a kind of joyousness came over her, connected with a sense of liberty which she knew must owe its happy existence to the fact that her aunt was not there. Still Isabel loved her, she was quite sure, and most especially now that they were separated, when all the kind solicitude bestowed upon her childhood came back to her memory without the stern denial or the absolute command.

The tide of enjoyment would never roll so high if wholly unmoved by any counter influence; and Isabel was prepared by these circumstances, as well as by her own nature, fully to appreciate every height and depth of that perfect happiness which now seemed to have fallen to her lot. Sometimes it seemed to her too much — almost more than human nature was calculated to sustain. Yet what could she spare of all those treasures which Heaven had so bountifully jioured into her lap? Not her child, most assuredly ; nor yet her gallant sailor husband. She would almost have laughed had any idea presented itself of losing them^ so impossible would such a calamity have appeared.

To some women the profession of a naval officer would have suggested danger; but Isabel had been used to that profession in her uncle’s case, and to her its various contingencies of storm and calm, its varieties of scene and climate, had been so familiarly discussed from her early childhood, that she thought no more of danger connected with life at sea than with any other adventurous career, such as she had learned to look upon as the fitting course of a high-souled English gentleman; besides which, all Europe was at peace just then. There

CHAPTEES ON WIVES.

was nothing to apprehend on that ground. A little pleasant cruising, perhaps a year at some foreign station, to which she might accompany her husband, were the only serious changes which Isabel had at all anticipated ; and to her imagination, in consequence of what her uncle had told her, a well-built ship of war was as safe as any habitation on land — the admiral thought more so.

In Isabel’s own nature, too, there was that strong tendency to repose and trust which it takes many adverse winds and cruel storms to overthrow. Perhaps she was a little, just a little too much disposed to let things take their course, and to believe that course would be not only a right, but a pleasant one. At all events, she never courted trouble, nor met her griefs half way. A woman of her type, situated in a lower sphere, would have been called a comfortable wmman ; but there were loftier elements in Isabel’s character than could have been fitly classed under this head. She was happy — profoundly, religiously happy — at peace with all the world, because her soul was at peace with God. She loved his creatures with a true heart of tenderness, w^hich had first melted under the conviction of that infinite love that was breathed out in agony upon the cross. Isabel was a true believer, as she was a true wife, true mother, true in all things. ^^”0 dogmas of skepticism disturbed her equal mind. To find grounds for doubting what the Bible told her afibrded her neither interest nor pleasure. It had been the book of her childhood, cherished all through her youth, but never so profoundly valued as now that she had other lives committed to her care, other hopes to keej) alive besides her own, other feet to endeavor to allure into the path of peace.

With this deep foundation for her happiness, Isabel looked around lier on that summer’s afternoon, and, in

ISABEL.

her quiet hut intense way of dwelling upon what she loved, contemplated that visible superstructure of prosperity and enjoyment which made her home a paradise to her. So still Avas every thing just then in earth and air, that she could hear, far down the garden Avalks beside the fish pond, the merry laughter of the nurse, and the little mimic call of the child to the swans, and then the crowing delight Avith Avhich he saw them snatch the crumbs cast rather discursively from his little hand ; and the young mother longed to spring from the terrace, and run doAvn to share this joyous entertainment, but her steps Avere checked by the deeper joy in anticipation. She Avas never absent from that spot exactly at the time AA'hen the carriage Avhich conveyed her husband home AA^as expected to make the turn in the road Avhich she could see from that part of the grounds, and that alone. So soon as it came in sight she left the terrace, and hastening down to a low med door into a shady walk through the shrubbery, there met her husband Avith a never-failing Avelcome on her lips. He also kneAV hoAV he Avould be Avatched, and how met ; and, true as time, he never failed to come almost at the appointed moment, entering by the med door, and leaving the carriage to go empty on its Avay.

Only one thing caused Isabel the slightest trouble on these occasions ; it Avas that trick of beginning to expect her husband so much too soon. But then she neA^er AA^earied of the scene before her, especially as the shadows lengthened, and the Avestern sky began to gloAV Avith deeper radiance. On this afternoon there was a glory about the sun’s descending which she thought surpassed all she had eA^er seen. .

“ Happy omen of a bright to-morroAV,” Isabel said to herself as she directed her eyes once more to the road, and then, beholding nothing there, looked away into the

CHAPTEES ON WIVES.

far distance, where woods, and fields, and hedge-row trees all blended into that exquisite purple which is at the same time blue with ethereal tinting, and brown with rugged stems of trees, and fallow fields, and cottage roofs covered with time-worn thatch. What makes that marvelous coloring of the distance, even in a level country, beautiful ? Who shall say ? And yet how many eyes gaze on it admiringly, some soothed, and some enchanted— all wooed and won by the wonderful harmony with which it comes between us and the sky, partaking both of earth and heaven — Nature’s own look of tender, loving invitation, when she bids us come onward, and ever onward, where earth is etherealized, and heaven brought down, and where we shall realize the true perfection of living !

Isabel, gazing on that aerial distance, thought it very beautiful j but to her there were nearer beauties which she better loved. In one sense she loved all; but hers was a nature to gather in, close to her loving heart, all that she held dearest. Thus her contemplations were more attracted to that which was familiar and near, than general or distant ; and thus she loved a garden, perhaps, more than a landscape. All its individual flowers ; its rare and beautiful shrubs; its shadowy trees, and winding walks, and stately terraces ; its fountains whispering their sweet music amid the hum of bees and chirp of flitting birds — all these, even the minutest, Isabel loved to have around her in richest glory and perfection, and in each she found a distinct and peculiar delight.

All animal life, too, had its charm for Isabel, as it always has to such natures. Her favorite dog was not discarded for her child, but held his place beside her, even on the terrace, where he, too, waited with eager anticipation for his master’s coming. Nor was the avi-

ISABEL.

ary less enjoyed, now that she could visit it with that young Titan in her arms, who would have clutched the various inmates if he could, and crushed their little lives out with one grasp.

As the young mother gazed from the terrace, she was far from being insensible to what was going on in the fields and pastures lying near the outskirts of the gardens. She had her favorite cattle, as well as her horse, and she saw in the distance the cow-boy driving home the herd, as she thought, with much unnecessary harsh treatment and haste ; and while she knit her fair brows, looking intently in that direction, she prepared in her own mind a lecture for the boy, who was a new inmate of the farm, and did not understand the kind and beneficent rule under which he had come to serve.

Isabel was deeply occupied with this scene (for she could not endure cruelty or oppression under any form) when suddenly, to her astonishment, and before she had time to turn her head, two manly arms were clasped around her neck, and a cheek was pressed to hers whose touch was too familiar not to be recognized in a moment — too dear not to be always welcome.

“Why, Archy,” exclaimed Isabel, as soon as she was able to disengage herself, “ how did you come ? I never saw the carriage, and yet — ”

“ Ah ! you could not help looking at the cows, and so forgot the carriage,” said a fine manly voice.

Isabel declared it was not so. She said she had only one eye for the cows, the other for the road. But the mystery was soon explained. Captain Grant had not returned by the usual way. He had entered the house by an opposite door, and, passing directly through the hall, had approached his wife from behind, stealing gently along the velvet turf, in order to startle her by his sudden entrance. Why he had come home in this way

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he did not explain, and his wife was too glad to have him near her to care much about this little change in his accustomed habits.

And well indeed might the woman who was loved by such a man be pleased to have that noble figure seated near her, to look into his open face, where never cloud of shame, nor mystery, nor any thing, in fact, which man need hide, had left a shadow or a trace, and to know that those clear eyes, blue as the vault above, reflected no image so faithfully or so tenderly as her own.

Captain, Archibald Grant was perhaps not, literally speaking, a handsome man. His features bore no resemblance to any hero of classical celebrity, and he was far enough from looking sentimental, or even poetical. He had too much of the English sailor for that in his frank unstudied manner, in his hearty laugh, and in the playful boyish pranks which generally announced, beyond mistake, his happy and exciting return to home, and wife, and child. Yet with all this there was blended at times such tender and sweet kindness, such evident impossibility of his doubting or thinking ill of any one in whom he had once believed, such glorious bravery of front and mien, that all who loved the captain — and they were nearly all who knew him — thought him one of the finest-looking men of their acquaintance, so agreeable, and at the same time sp noble, was the aspect which he bore.

It was the custom with both parents, on the return of the captain, as soon as the first interchange of intelligence had taken place between them in the shrubbery walk — the first telling of any little private matters which concerned themselves— to hasten to find the child, whether in the garden or the nursery, and so to witness together, with delighted admiration, what time had done for him during the six or eight hours of his father’s ab-

ISABEL.

sence. Great and wonderful were the exploits which the nurse recounted on these happy occasions, for sometimes even words had been spoken — what first and only child does not speak words before it is three months old ? — or other manifestations had to be described of remarkable intelligence, or singular development of precocious feeling.

To-day, however, the captain sat still beside his wife upon the terrace seat — very still, and often looking away. He did not even ask about the boy ; and when his wife inquired if he was tired, or not quite well, he started, looked round at her, and, instead of speaking, ran his fingers up among his rich brown hair, shredding it into wavy curls that fell at will about his brow and temples. This was a trick the captain had whenever he began to think, and especially when he was perplexed about any matter which he could not solve, or settle satisfactorily.

Isabel cast a slight glance toward him once or twice. She was too wise to ask abruptly what was the matter, but waited, thinking there had been business at the Admiralty that day which had in all probability detained him, as well as sent him home with something more than usual to think about. She, however, did venture to propose that they should go and see the child ; but her purpose was checked by a somewhat hasty “i^’ot yet,” and she had nothing for it but to wait.

At length her husband started up suddenly, saying, “ Let us go into the library.” They both went without another word, and passing thi:ough the hall toward a large low room in a retired part of the house, entered, and shut the door.

Isabel would have felt a thrill of fear just then if she had ever known what real trouble was; for who that has experienced much of life’s vicissitudes does not understand that shutting to of a door, when there has been

CHAPTERS ON WIVES.

no accustomed need for privacy ? Still Isabel remained perfectly calm and self-possessed ; and not even when her husband took her hand and looked steadily into her face did she flinch, or tremble, or turn pale, or wear more than a look of simple inquiry on her face.

“Isabel,” said her husband, speaking with a sudden gasp for breath, “ what do you think your uncle, the admiral, has been proposing to me ?”

“I can not tell,” said Isabel. “Perhaps that you should be promoted.”

The captain uttered a hasty expression, as if his wife’s guess was foolishly wide of the mark ; and then, with evident efibrt, he began to tell her how the admiral and another gentleman of rank and influence, with whom he had lunched that day, had proposed to him to take the command of an exploring expedition, about to be sent out by government, to a part of the world where there was so much to be apprehended from peculiarities of climate, and other adverse circumstances, that no ordinary amount of courage and resolution was required on the part of those who engaged personally in the undertaking.

All this took a good while to explain, and Isabel remained all the time perfectly silent. No tear dimmed her eye, no convulsive movement indicated that her emotions were gaining mastery over her habitual self-command. At last her husband ceased, and as he pressed the hand he had been holding to his lips, it was evident that he waited for her to speak.

To speak, however, was not so easy as to stand and gaze, and gaze, and see nothing — only to feel; and with excess of feeling Isabel had grown almost rigid, and so pale ! for the life-blood seemed all to have left the surface of her body, to circle in hot rushing waves around her heart. Her lips were blue as well as pale, and a

ISABEL.

Strange livid hue was beginning to spread about her mouth and eyes, when, Avith a great effort, she cleared her voice to speak.

“What do you say, my angel wife?” her husband asked ; “ for without your entire consent nothing will be done. I have said nothing, agreed to nothing. It was a mere suggestion made to me in perfect privacy ; and if I decline it altogether, no one besides your uncle will ever know. There will be no dishonor either in my declining, your uncle tells me — none whatever. N oav, Avhat do you say ?”

“What is it?” asked Isabel. “Explain to me what it is.”

Her husband did explain that a commander of the expedition was required who knew the intricacies of coast and river, Avho understood the nature of the climate and the character of the people, and that he, Avhen serving under her uncle, had acquired this knoAvledge. The admiral, from his long acquaintance Avith that quarter of the world, had been consulted confidentially, and he Avas of the opinion that he could obtain the appointment for any one whom he might strongly recommend. Prudence was eminently necessary, as well as courage and resolution ; and both gentlemen had done Captain Grant the honor to express their confidence in this respect. In fact, nothing seemed wanting but age, and that objection they also seemed inclined to think might be overcome.