Lovers and Husbands CHAPTER 14.
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About a year after the death of Arabella's uncle died, the circle in which Garnett and his wife moved was rendered more attractive than usual by the presence of a young lady from Boston of a very high order of mind. Her name was Agnes Benton. All were alike fascinated — some by her beauty, others by her wit and vivacity, and more by her superior intellectual attainments. Among the latter was Garnett. The first hour passed in company with Agnes Benton caused him to sigh that he was not free to ask her or one like her, to share his lot in life — to move up with him, into eminence, and, from a high position, reflect back upon society the brightness of his fame.
Never before had his own wife appeared so insignificant in his eyes — never before had he felt so profound a contempt for her mental endowments. From that time he went oftener than before into company. The charm that allured him was the fascinating Miss Benton. Unhappily, the young lady not only perceived the admiration felt for her by the talented lawyer — but her vanity led her to court his attentions. With all her brilliant qualities of mind, she had not a true woman's high sense of honor; in this she was far below Mrs. Garnett, whose heart was in its right place.
Love of admiration, not the love of high intellectual communion, as she flattered herself was the case, caused Agnes to affect a great regard for the wife of Garnett, and to visit her frequently, always remaining when she did so until towards tea-time, and then yielding to the polite request to stay and spend the evening, which Arabella could not well help making. Garnett never went out when Agnes was there; even engagements were broken for the pleasure of her society. Poor Arabella could not help noting the great difference in her husband when he came in and found only herself at home — and when, as it now frequently happened, Agnes was there. To the latter, his manner exhibited all the warmth that had blessed the heart of his wife in former days, when she was the object upon which he lavished his attentions. Although little inclined, by nature, to jealousy — the devotion of her husband to this fascinating woman, and the mutual interest which they seemed to take in each other — alarmed her fears, at the same time that it awakened her indignation. She still loved him, and had a wife's pride in his talents. To see him made the dupe of a designing creature, who flattered his vanity that she might be courted and flattered in return — pained and mortified her, on the one hand; while this stronger evidence than she had yet seen of diminished love, wounded her heart in its tenderest region.
For a time, merely to gratify her husband, Arabella strove to seem pleased with Miss Benton. But soon perceiving that she and her husband grew more and more intimate, and less inclined to conceal that intimacy — her eyes became at once fully opened. Before, she had tried to persuade herself that the pleasure they took in each other's company arose altogether from a congeniality of intellect, that is, from the mutual pleasure they felt in conversing on subjects in which both took an interest; but the scales at length fell from her eyes, and she saw the real truth in the broad light of day. It happened in this way:
Miss Benton called in, some months after the date of her first acquaintance with Garnett, to spend an afternoon with his wife. Her manner of treating Arabella had, unperceived by herself, changed. Garnett had not hesitated to allude, in some of his conversations with her, to the fact of his wife's intellectual inferiority, even basely venturing to express regretthat he should be united for life, to one so altogether uncongenial. "Had my lot been cast with a mind as brilliantly endowed as yours," he went so far as to say, "how happy, instead of miserable, from the clog that hinders my feet, would I have been!"
This remark, instead of causing Agnes Benton, as it would have caused any pure-minded woman, to turn away from Garnett with indignant contempt — was received with silent pleasure. It was a tribute to her self-esteem — to her proud consciousness of intellectual superiority; and, as such, it had a lulling sound for her ear. After that, her manner towards his wife changed; she did not treat her with the attention she had formerly shown; her visits were as frequent — but there was less effort to conceal the real estimation in which she held her.
On the occasion just alluded to, she called in late in the afternoon. Mrs. Garnett received her coldly. Contrary to the determination she had formed, she requested her to take off her bonnet and shawl; but she could not ask her to remain to tea. This was not necessary. Miss Benton did not need such an invitation. Compelling herself to put on the external of politeness, Mrs. Garnett forced a conversation with her visitor, in which the latter exhibited a well-bred indifference, which did not escape Arabella's notice. At length evening closed in, and Mr. Garnett returned from his office.
"How do you do, Miss Benton?" he said, a bright smile spreading over his face as he perceived the visitor; "I am really glad to see you;" and as he spoke he advanced to her, and, taking her hand, shook it warmly.
The manner of Miss Benton changed in an instant. Her countenance lightened up, her eyes dilated, her whole frame quivered with a new inspiration. For a moment, Mrs. Garnett looked at them, as they became engaged in an animated conversation upon some topic that had no interest for her, sighed, and then left the room to look after some domestic duties that her efforts to entertain her unwelcome visitor had caused her to neglect. As she did so, her husband paused, and glanced after her. As soon as he thought her beyond the reach of his voice, he turned to Agnes and said, in a tone of sadness,
"Ah, Miss Benton, no one can imagine how deeply, how constantly I regret having, in a moment of weakness, united myself to a woman who is excellent enough in her way — but who cannot sympathize with me in that which is nearest my heart. I look up, up, up, to a high and glorious position. I seek to win the world's high meddle of fame; but she looks down at the little things about her feet. She would have made a man of less ambition than myself happy. Myself, she cannot!"
As he said this, Garnett sighed, and cast his eyes upon the floor. Miss Benton sat in breathless silence.
"How madly," resumed Garnett, "do we often, in earlier years, commit follies for which no after-repentance can atone! Such a folly I committed when I married Arabella."
"Certainly your wife is an excellent little woman," was replied to this, "but does not, I should think, possess a mind congenial with yours."
"Congenial with mine! No — there is nothing in common between us. Ah, Miss Benton, I sometimes think, if it had only been my good fortune to have met with you before — "
A groan, instantly followed by the sound of a heavy body falling close by the door of the room within which they sat, startled the infatuated pair. Garnett rushed into the passage. The body of his wife lay insensible at his feet. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her upstairs, followed by Miss Benton. It seemed an ordinary fainting fit, and efforts were made to restore her by the ordinary means resorted to in such cases; but hours passed without the least sign of returning animation. Then, in alarm, a physician was sent for. No satisfactory account was given to him of the cause of this sudden suspension of vitality. That cause, truly guessed by her husband and Agnes Benton, could not even be remotelyhinted at, by either of them.
All through the night and the next day Mrs. Garnett remained like one dead. No pulsation of the heart, no respiration was visible. Her face wore the hue of death. No one out of the house was informed of her condition. Agnes, alarmed at what had taken place, more on account of the cause, and dreaded consequences to herself, than the fact — remained with Arabella throughout the whole of the day and the next night. On the second morning, some signs of returning animation were visible. These gave light to the physician in the application of remedies, so that he was able to meet the effort of nature, and guide it in its healthy action. He was standing by her bedside, with her husband and Agnes, when consciousness came back to Mrs. Garnett. She raised herself up slowly, looking first steadily into the physician's face, then glancing towards her husband, and finally fixing her eyes upon Agnes, who half shrunk from their penetrating gaze, like the guilty thing that she was — guilty of having trampled upon a heart already crushed and bleeding.
"A beautiful serpent to carry so deadly a sting!" murmured the wife, in a wandering manner, pointing, as she spoke, to Miss Benton.
The latter shrunk away instantly, and left the room. The patient seemed relieved at this, laid herself back upon her pillow, and breathed more freely. With professional tact, the doctor seemed not to notice this remark; but it startled Garnett almost as much as it had Agnes Benton. When the doctor left the house, it was found that Agnes had gone also. Garnett was relieved at this. He had gone too far with her; the effect upon his wife — who had, he rightly conjectured, overheard their conversation — of his intimacy with another woman, made him conscious of this.
Months passed before Mrs. Garnett was anything better than a drooping invalid. Friends wondered at the great change that had taken place — but guessed not at the real cause. A sudden and unaccountable fainting fit was given as the reason for subsequent ill-health. This was enough to satisfy ordinary observers. A few, more curious, or more penetrating than the rest, surmised causes still deeper than the one alleged — the cause, in fact, of that cause. But these were careful how they made suggestions in regard to the case. As for Agnes Benton, the result of her unprincipled conduct caused her immediate return to Boston. A few months afterward she again visited New York — but Garnett and she mutually avoided each other.
The birth of another child, some six months after the terrible discovery she had made in regard to the state of her husband's affections, gave a new direction to the thoughts of Mrs. Garnett. She had now two children, one a helpless babe, that required her constant care. To these children she devoted herself with unwearied assiduity, rarely going into company, unless strongly urged to do so by her husband. When she did go abroad, her changed appearance made her the subject of many remarks. Some perceived, in her pale, thin face, and eyes that seemed to be looking inward instead of upon external things, only the indications of ill-health. But others knew the signs of mental and emotional suffering too well.
Thus time passed on, the neglected wife wasting slowly away from disease of the mind, which weakened rather than gave life to the vital organs.
Slight causes often lead to painful consequences. When Henry, their oldest child, had gained the age of five years, the father proposed that he should be sent to school. To this Arabella objected. She thought him yet too young.
"But I do not," was the rather domineering reply of Garnett.
The manner in which this was said, was felt more than the words. From the first, she had never opposed her husband in anything, meekly submitting to his will, no matter how arbitrarily expressed. But the question which now came up concerned her child, and her love for it, not only gave her clear perceptions — but also the resolution to express anydifference of opinion she might hold in a matter affecting its welfare.
"I can teach him at home all that it is yet necessary for him to learn," she said, mildly, yet firmly. "He already knows his letters, and is beginning to combine them into words."
"But I wish him to go to school; and I think a father ought to be the best judge in matters concerning his son's education. Already you are beginning to spoil the boy by over-indulgence; for this, if no other reason, he ought to be in a good school, under a judicious teacher."
"But consider, dear, how very young he is." This was said by Mrs. Garnett in a trembling voice. "Only five years old; and he is such a timid, gentle, sweet little fellow. I don't see that he is spoiled in anything. I don't know that I indulge him in what is not right. He minds everything I say. Does he not do the same to you? I am sure he does."
"It is in that very timidity and backwardness, that you are spoiling him. I wish him to become a man — not a woman! If he is so very gentle, it is high time that he should put on more of a boyish character. He will have to take it rough-and-tumble with the world by-and-by, and the sooner we begin to educate him for what is to come, the better. So, make up your mind to have him sent to school at once."
"I cannot do that, Mr. Garnett," was the wife's firm reply.
"Humph! cannot, indeed!" This was spoken sneeringly. Its effect was to rouse up the mind of Arabella.
"No, I cannot!" she replied; "he is my child as well as yours. My interest in him is as deep as yours; and I claim a mother's right to have a voice in all that concerns him. I do not ask to have my own way, and I cannot consent to let you decide all questions that regard our children by mere dictation. I will yield my judgment as far as I can to yours — and I ask, as an act of justice, that you will consider my reasons as entitled to some consideration."
Never before had Mrs. Garnett spoken to her husband with so much spirit and firmness. He was surprised for a moment, and then retorted with a look and tone of contempt.
"Your judgment! your reasons! I would not give that for them!" snapping his fingers.
A quick shiver ran through the delicate frame of his wife. It was the first time his indifference towards her, and the real contempt he entertained — had been uttered without disguise. The shock was too great. Her face grew deadly pale in a moment, and, sinking down upon the sofa where she had been half reclining, she fell over, to all appearance perfectly lifeless.
For twelve hours she lay in this state of suspended animation, and then vitality again came forth from the interior regions where it had retired, and restored the circle of life.
Garnett deemed it prudent not to press the matter, the agitation of which, had produced such unhappy consequences. Little Henry was not sent to school until he had entered upon his sixth year.
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