Volume II. The Wife CHAPTER 16.
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In presenting a contrast to the wise and prudent conduct of Mrs. Hartley — we have kept our leading character in the background for some time. We have done so for two reasons — in order to present the contrast; and, because we did not think it possible to give picture after picture, of the quiet life of Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, and preserve sufficient interest to compensate the reader.
Anna, it has been seen, acted in the very commencement of her married life, with an unselfish regard to the good of her husband. She could have yielded passively to his wishes, and become the mistress of an elegant house; and she had temptations to do so, that few women so situated, would have thought of resisting. But she did not love her husbandblindly nor selfishly — but wisely. She thought of her duty as a wife, and manifested the quality of her love by the right performance of her duties from the first day of her marriage.
But, it was not alone in a due regard to external things, that Anna manifested the quality of her love. She sought to regulate the affections of her mind, and bring them into due subordination to the highest and purest principles. Her husband had his weaknesses, as have all men — he had his prejudices, and his passions. And she was not free from imperfections. Reason told her, that if evil overcame evil, in a contention between husband and wife — that victory would be as destructive to happiness as defeat. But, that if evil were overcome by good — both the victor and the vanquished would be wiser and better, and therefore happier for the contest.
In acting from this clear sense of right, Anna had many hard contentions with herself. When anything like an arbitrary, self-willed, or unamiable trait in her husband's character presented itself — her heart felt wounded, or inclined to meet self-will with self-will, or arbitrary words and conduct with stern opposition. But reflection, and a struggle with herself for the mastery over the tendencies of a naturally evil heart, would soon make her vision clear, and her mind calm. And then she could act the wife's true part, well and wisely.
Hartley was not so blind but that he could see all this in Anna. It made him feel humble in spirit, when, after some slight difference, in which he had spoken with a warmth bordering on unkindness — she would answer in gentle terms, that were redolent of a sweet, forbearing spirit; or, when he had opposed his wishes to hers — she would yield to his desires with a cheerful grace, that rebuked his own eager selfishness. He saw that, in every contention, she gained the real victory, even though he, in appearance, carried the point at issue.
"God bless her!" he ejaculated fervently, as he left his house one morning, the tears coming to his eyes. "She is an angel! She saves me from myself. I never dreamed that I was so self-willed, so unamiable, so much in the love of dominion as I am — until she caused me to see my own heart clearly reflected from the bright pure surface of her own. I can understand, now, how a wife's character elevates, or depresses that of her husband. Had she been different — had she been self-willed — even as self-willed as I am — had she been fond of dress, or display, or admiration — had she been, in fact, anything but what she is — a loving, almost faultless wife — I tremble to think of the unhappy influence she would have had upon me. I did not know that I had so many faults of character as I have; faults that a selfish wife would have confirmed, but which my own dear Anna helps me to remove at the same time that she does not appear to see them. God bless her! I say again."
This warmly-uttered tribute to the virtues of his wife, was occasioned by some one of the many instances of forbearance which Mrs. Hartley was compelled to exercise towards her husband, who, as excellent as he was, had his weak points, his faults and his foibles. But her manner towards him was always so gentle and kind — that it reproved him the instant he was betrayed into any act or word that was calculated to wound or disturb her.
They had been married for six months. During that time all external circumstances had conspired to make their life happy. The business prospects of Hartley were more flattering than at first. Trade was brisk, and sales heavier than usual. No wonder that they could live in sunshine, with but few light clouds to flit over their sky. But a change came. Let us see how it affects them.
When Hartley reached the store on the morning just referred to, he found both of his partners greatly disturbed in mind. On inquiring the cause, he learned that letters had just come to hand with the intelligence of three heavy failures in Cincinnati of firms indebted to the firm nearly fifty thousand dollars.
The effect of this disaster upon their business, Hartley at once saw. The same firm was also largely indebted to several firms in Philadelphia, whose condition was not thought to be sound, and those houses in turn, were debtors to R. S. & Co. in heavy amounts. Should the Cincinnati failures prove as bad as the first intelligence represented them to be, it was a matter of great doubt as to the ultimate consequences.
Mr. Rawlings was particularly dispirited, and Mr. Swanson was a man of much stronger nerves, was a good deal agitated.
"Bad, very bad, James," the latter said to Hartley. "I am afraid it will break us up."
The young man turned pale.
"Oh, no. Hardly so bad as that, Mr. Swanson?" he replied in a husky voice.
"There is no telling. We shall be crippled without doubt. There is a fair prospect of our losing sixty or seventy thousand dollars, by these failures. I need not tell you, that such a loss will shake us to the foundation. I must own, that I am deeply anxious about the consequences."
The heart of the young man sunk. To him, even if the firm stood firm, the effect would be severe. If sixty thousand dollars were lost, or even one-half that sum, it would reduce to a very small amount his dividend of the profits, if it left him anything at all. His first thought was of his wife, and, as her image arose in his mind, a pang went through his heart.
During the morning, a hundred floating rumors assailed the ears of Hartley and his associates in business, none of them at all encouraging. The whole prospect was dark. Everyone who had debtors in Cincinnati was alarmed. A dozen merchants, there, were talked of as affected by the failures that had already taken place, and in danger of ruin. Several of these were also customers of R. S. & Co., who held their paper to considerable amounts.
In this state of anxious uncertainty, the hours passed on, until it was time for Hartley to go home. He shrunk from the thought of meeting his wife. It was impossible for him to conceal what he felt; her quick eye would read the change in his feelings, the moment he came in.
With an effort to appear as cheerful and free from concern as usual, Hartley came into the presence of his wife at dinner time.
"James! What is the matter?" she exclaimed, the moment her eye rested upon his face. "Are you not well?"
His effort to put on the appearances of a quiet mind had proved vain. He had never had put on a pretense, and could not do it now. The eager questions of Anna, and her alarmed face, caused his own countenance to assume an expression of deep distress.
"Oh, James! What has happened?"
"Sit down, my love, and I will tell you all. But do not be alarmed. It may not be as bad as we fear."
Hartley said this in a voice meant to quiet the anxiety of his wife. But she grew deadly pale —
"My father — " she could but faintly utter.
"O no, no. Nothing of that," replied Hartley, comprehending the nature of her thoughts. "Your father and mother, and all belonging to them are well. I allude to my business affairs, which have suddenly assumed a threatening aspect."
"Is that all?" murmured Anna, in a faint voice, sinking into her husband's arms. "I feared that something dreadful had happened."
For an instant Hartley felt vexed at the indifference shown by his wife in a matter that went to his very heart. But the relief this seeming indifference afforded his own mind was so great, that he began to feel half-ashamed of himself for revealing so much agitation.
"That is all," he returned, after a short silence, in a calm voice. "But to me, it is a very serious matter."
"And if to you, is it not the same to me?"quickly replied Anna, perceiving in a moment, the impression her remark had made. "Vague fears were instantly excited by your looks and words, and they always create a paralyzed condition of mind. But, tell me, dear husband! what has happened? No matter what it is — no matter how it affects us externally, it shall find your wife unchanged. She will stand firmly by your side, if all the world forsakes you. Speak to me freely. Do not fear for me. Am I not your wife?"
"Yes — you are truly my wife — my angel-wife — my guide, my companion, my comforter. Feeling now, how rich I am in possessing the love of a true heart like yours, it hardly seems possible, that a little while ago, with the danger of the ruin of our firm by heavy failures in the West, looking me in the face, my spirits could have been so prostrated. But it was of you that I thought. I trembled at the prospect of a change that would affect you."
"Think not of me. Fear not for me. Come what will, if I retain your love and your confidence, I shall be happy. But what has happened, James? Don't hesitate to tell me all."
Hartley briefly related what the reader already knows in regard to the certain and probable losses that would be sustained by the Cincinnati failures.
"What the effect will be," he said, in conclusion, "cannot now be told. It may force us to close up our business and dissolve the firm. Most certainly, it will reduce my income for the next year very low, if not cut it off altogether."
In uttering the last sentence, Hartley's voice trembled.
"My dear husband," quickly replied Anna, with a smile, and speaking in a calm tone of voice. "You believe in an overruling divine Providence; and you know that whatever befalls us here, is of divine permission, and intended for our good."
"I know it, Anna, but it is hard to feel that it is so."
"And yet it is so. We know it is so. This is faith; but faith that is only in the understanding is nothing. The heart must give its affirmation as well as the thought. Let our hearts do this. We believe the threatened events, if they do take place, will be wisely ordered or permitted for our spiritual good. On this rock let us plant our feet, and the waters may rage around us in vain. Think, for a moment: if reverses are necessary, in order that our minds may be opened more towards Heaven, through trials and changes in our external lives — would you, if you had your choice, and your thoughts were clear and calm, hesitate to choose the rougher way in life? James, I am sure you would not hesitate! What is our brief day here in this world — compared to an eternal state hereafter? This is the way for us to think and feel."
"True, Anna; still it is hard, very hard, for me to feel as well as think so wisely. If my thoughts were clear and calm, and the choice were presented, I believe I would choose the better part. But, the great difficulty is, to keep off doubt and fear, which cloud and disturb the mind. If I could see it all as clear as I now do, it would be easy enough. But, the moment I direct my mind to the circumstances that surround me, and see the ruin of all my worldly prospects staring me in the face — I cannot help trembling. I am no longer looking up, but downward."
"Let it, then, be my task to point your eyes upward. You, mingling in the busy strife of men, and surrounded by the sphere of business, with its anxiety and care, and fears of the loss of worldly goods and worldly honors — must, necessarily, be influenced by the quality of this sphere, and have your mind affected with like anxieties, and cares, and fears. But I live in another sphere, I cannot be affected, daily, as you are. I can look up with a steadier eye. Mine, then, shall be the duty of holding up your hands. When cares oppress you, come to me, and I will show you how vain they are; if anxious, lean upon me, and I will make you to feel, that no one need be anxious, while the Lord rules in Heaven and earth. If we must take a lower position in life, I will take it with you, and encourage you, if you fear, in descending."
As Mrs. Hartley spoke, with a warmly eloquent voice, her face beamed in beauty that was not earthy. In the eyes of her husband, she had always borne a lovely countenance, but she was lovelier now than ever. Clasping her with tender earnestness in his arms, he said —
"May Heaven shower upon you its choicest blessings! You make me ashamed of my own weakness; of my own lack of trust in the divine Providence which I know governs all things well. With you by my side, life's journey can never be a very painful one; for you will make for me, all the rough places, even. Come what will, whether prosperity or adversity, I shall ever find your heart as true to love, as is the needle to the pole."
"Yes, ever," was the low, murmured reply.
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