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(Created page with "'''Back to Volume III. The Mother''' ---- <p>For some time after her husband went out, Mrs. Riston suffered great distress of mind. The thought of having to give up her splen...")
 
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<p>For some time after her husband went out, Mrs. Riston suffered great distress of mind. The thought of having to give up her splendid house, was almost as terrible as the thought of death. If her husband should really fail in business, she felt that she could not survive the mortification.<br><br>
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<p>Happy Consummations.</strong><br><br>
"But I don't believe a word of it!" she roused herself by saying. "This is only a <em>bug-bear </em>that he has conjured up to <em>frighten </em>me."<br><br>
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Marien Hartley was twenty-two years of age when she first began to attract attention in society. The impression she made was a decided one. People talked about her for a time as a new wonder. Her <em>grace</em>, her <em>intelligence</em>, her <em>accomplishments</em>, and, not least, her <em>beauty</em> — won the universal admiration. She was quickly surrounded by the <em>butterflies of fashion</em>, but they found themselves at a loss how to be truly agreeable. If they <em>flattered </em>her, she did not seem to understand them; if they complimented her upon her singing, or dancing — she only smiled quietly. In fact, all their usual arts failed. Some called her <em>cold</em> — others said she was as <em>proud </em>as a duchess; while others reported that her heart was engaged to an absent lover.<br><br>
In spite of her effort to believe this, she could not help feeling uneasy. About twelve o'clock, visitors began to drop in. Mrs. Riston was occupied with these for two or three hours. All, with flattering words, ministered to her <em>vanity</em>, and caused her to feel how intimately blended with her happiness, were the elegancies with which she was surrounded. But always the thought of what her husband had said, would pass through her mind, and produce the most acute pain.<br><br>
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Unconscious of all this agitation created by her appearance, Marien continued in the affectionate performance of her home duties, occasionally mingling in society, less from feeling drawn there, than because she believed that she owed something to the <em>social </em>as well as to the <em>family </em>circle.<br><br>
At length she was alone again. It was past three o'clock, the hour for dining, but Mr. Riston had not yet returned. She dreaded to see him come in, and yet felt anxious about his prolonged absence, for it did not seem a precursor of good. The clock was striking four, when she heard his footsteps in the hall. He went into the parlor, but remained there only a moment. She next heard him ascending the stairs with a more deliberate step than usual. She looked up into his face with an anxious and inquiring eye, as he entered the chamber where she was sitting. Its expression startled her. There was something about it that she could not understand. She was not long in suspense.<br><br>
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Once more was the liveliest maternal interest awakened in the bosom of Mrs. Hartley. Now was the most critical period in her daughter's life. Her <em>heart </em>could not long remain uninterested; but whose <em>hand </em>should touch the precious fountain, and unseal its pure waters? That was the anxious question.<br><br>
"The worst has come to the worst, Ellen," he said, in a calm, cold voice, taking a chair by her side, and looking fixedly at her. "As I feared it would be, so it has turned out. I could hear of nothing, go where I would, but the splendid party, and the amount it must have, or really did cost; but nobody had any money to lend. Men who loaned me freely last week, and even yesterday, and who could have done it as easily today, had nothing to spare. From ten o'clock until three, I strove, with all the power I possessed, to get the amount of money needed to keep me from bankruptcy; but in vain. I am now a dishonored and broken merchant!"<br><br>
+
Evening <em>visitors </em>were becoming more and more frequent. On every new appearance of Marien in company — would some new <em>acquaintance </em>call. Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, unlike most parents, who, very considerately remembering how it was with themselves — always made it a point to be present, with other members of the family, when any <em>visitor </em>called to spend an evening. Clarence, who was fully in his mother's confidence, remained at home a great deal during these occasions, in order to swell the parlor circle, and to add to the pleasures of conversation, music, or other modes that might be resorted to for passing an hour.<br><br>
A cry of anguish burst from the lips of his unhappy wife, as he said this.<br><br>
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This way of doing things was not at all relished by some who were all eagerness to secure the favor of Marien. Among those who occasionally dropped in, was a young man who generally spent more time in conversing with the mother, than with the daughter. If his design had been first to conciliate Mrs. Hartley, his plan was certainly a good one. But he was innocent of any design, further than to gain opportunities for observing closely the character and disposition of Marien. He had ample means for supporting a wife, and had been looking about him for one at least a year. The first impression made upon him by Marien was favorable. He was not struck by her beauty and accomplishments half so much, as by the <em>sentiments </em>which he occasionally heard fall from her lips. The way in which her parents guarded her, he saw and understood at once, and this strengthened his belief that she was a <em>precious treasure </em>for him who could win her heart.<br><br>
"I do not upbraid you as the cause of my misfortune," he resumed, as soon as the excitement of Mrs. Riston's feelings had in some measure subsided. "That would avail nothing. But, it is only right for you to know that but for this house, and the style in which it is furnished, and the <em>extravagant display </em>made last night — my credit would have remained untarnished. The money needed to meet my payments today would have been easily procured, and in a few weeks my feet would have been on firm ground again. As it is, I shall have to give up all to my creditors, who will place my effects in the hands of trustees. Forced settlements will involve sacrifices, and the end will be, that I shall turn out to be an insolvent debtor, and be thrown penniless upon the world, to begin life again."<br><br>
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While he observed her at a distance, as it were, others were clustering around her, and using every art to gain her favor. But, even while they were pressing for attention, her eye was wandering away to him; and often the words which <em>they </em>uttered were unheard, in her recollection of sentiments which <em>he </em>had spoken. Why this was so, Marien did not ask herself. She did not even notice the fact. When the young man, at last, began to make advances, she received them with an inward pleasure unfelt before. This did not escape the mother's watchful eye. But she had no word to say in objection. Long before any serious inroad upon Marien's <em>affections </em>had been made, father, mother, and brother were thoroughly acquainted with the young man's family, standing and character. They were unimpeachable.<br><br>
Mrs. Riston was stunned so much by this announcement, that she could not speak. Her face was pale as ashes, her hands clenched, and her eyes fixed like one in a spasm. So paralyzed was she, that she had to be carried to bed, scarcely sensible of anything that was passing around her.<br><br>
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When he, finally, made application for her hand, he received, promptly, this answer:<br><br>
A downward tendency is always rapid. Mr. Riston called a meeting of his creditors, and submitted, in a manly spirit, a statement of his affairs. Trustees were appointed, and all his effects placed in their hands. His elegant furniture was sold at public sale, within three weeks of the date of its purchase, and the cabinet-maker, upholsterer and others, as well as the wine merchant and confectioner, were compelled to await some ten or twelve months before receiving their final dividend on the bankrupt's assets, which left them minus thirty cents in the dollar on their claims.<br><br>
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"Take her, and may she be to you as good a <em>wife — </em>as she has been to us a <em>child</em>."<br><br>
Mrs. Riston retired to an obscure boarding-house, in the upper part of the city, in ten days after she had taken possession of her <em>palace</em>, as she had called it, with such lofty feelings. She retired a broken-spirited woman. Her husband's conduct in the trying ordeal through which he was compelled to pass, gained him the respect and regard of many, who were ready to assist him. He resumed business, after the lapse of two months, in a small way, and commenced again his upward struggle, fully resolved that his wife should never again have any control over him that was not the control of reason.<br><br>
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Marien was twenty-three years of age, when she became a wedded wife. Many wed <em>younger</em> — but few as <em>wisely</em>.<br><br>
"If I feel able at any future time to go to housekeeping in a quiet, economical way, I shall not regard her objections," he said to himself, while thinking over his plans for the future. "She will have to be governed by my wishes now. I have yielded to her's long enough. I am willing to devote myself to business early and late, and to take upon myself all its attendant cares and anxieties for our mutual good. It is but right that she should fill the <em>domestic </em>sphere as fully as I do that of business. Had I insisted upon her doing so at first, her mind would never have become warped, nor her desires so extravagant. I might still have retained my good name — have still been engaged in a prosperous business. But the time past shall suffice. My clear convictions of <em>right </em>shall never yield one iota to her whims, passions or caprices."<br><br>
+
The next event of interest in the life of Mrs. Hartley, was the marriage of <em>Clarence</em>. In this matter, she was careful to leave her son in the most perfect freedom. Although from principle she did this, she was not without great concern on the subject, for she well knew that his whole character would be modified for good or evil, by his wife. It is enough to say, that Clarence chose wisely.
Riston was as good as his word. He held, so to speak, a tight rein on his wife ever after. She, it must be said, was a more passive subject than before, and yielded to his wishes much easier. But she was not <em>happy</em>. She hardly ever went out, and scarcely any of her old friends cared about retaining her acquaintance. At home, she drooped about, and went through whatever domestic duties she had to perform, as if she were an automaton. She had no genuine love for her husband, and he felt it. Their meetings were cold, and their fellowship limited to a few common-place remarks, or questions and answers necessary to be made. Thus passed their days, neither of them caring how soon the time came for separation.<br>
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<p><br>
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  <br>
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  <strong>Chapter 16. Conclusion.</strong><br><br>
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  Having brought our readers to this point, not, we hope, without profit to themselves, we find that we have little more to add. The mother'<em>untiring devotion </em>to her children has not been in vain. The <em>good seed </em>sown in their minds, has produced a <em>pleasant harvest</em>.<br><br>
 +
  We could present a strong and painful <em>contrast </em>in the results attendant upon the course pursued by Mrs. Fielding; but we will not do so. It would be of little use to throw <em>dark shadows </em>upon the <em>picture </em>we have drawn. There are few who read this, who cannot look around and see the baleful consequences which have followed neglect and indifference such as were manifested by Mrs. Fielding towards her children. The instances are, alas, too numerous.<br><br>
 +
  In closing this volume, the author would remark to those who may feel disappointed in not finding it so full of incident and description as they had expected, that to have given it a<em>lighter character </em>would have required the sacrifice of much that he wished to say. The subject is one so full of interest to a certain class, that no <em>charms of fiction </em>were required to hold their attention. To have extended our book further, or to have introduced a greater variety of scenes, would have occupied the time and attention of the reader to very little purpose. To those who have read aright, enough has been said — volumes would do no good to those who have not.<br><br>
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  <em>THE END.</em>
 
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'''Back to [[Volume III. The Mother]]'''
 
'''Back to [[Volume III. The Mother]]'''

Revision as of 21:17, 18 November 2012

Back to Volume III. The Mother


Happy Consummations.</strong>

Marien Hartley was twenty-two years of age when she first began to attract attention in society. The impression she made was a decided one. People talked about her for a time as a new wonder. Her grace, her intelligence, her accomplishments, and, not least, her beauty — won the universal admiration. She was quickly surrounded by the butterflies of fashion, but they found themselves at a loss how to be truly agreeable. If they flattered her, she did not seem to understand them; if they complimented her upon her singing, or dancing — she only smiled quietly. In fact, all their usual arts failed. Some called her cold — others said she was as proud as a duchess; while others reported that her heart was engaged to an absent lover.

Unconscious of all this agitation created by her appearance, Marien continued in the affectionate performance of her home duties, occasionally mingling in society, less from feeling drawn there, than because she believed that she owed something to the social as well as to the family circle.

Once more was the liveliest maternal interest awakened in the bosom of Mrs. Hartley. Now was the most critical period in her daughter's life. Her heart could not long remain uninterested; but whose hand should touch the precious fountain, and unseal its pure waters? That was the anxious question.

Evening visitors were becoming more and more frequent. On every new appearance of Marien in company — would some new acquaintance call. Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, unlike most parents, who, very considerately remembering how it was with themselves — always made it a point to be present, with other members of the family, when any visitor called to spend an evening. Clarence, who was fully in his mother's confidence, remained at home a great deal during these occasions, in order to swell the parlor circle, and to add to the pleasures of conversation, music, or other modes that might be resorted to for passing an hour.

This way of doing things was not at all relished by some who were all eagerness to secure the favor of Marien. Among those who occasionally dropped in, was a young man who generally spent more time in conversing with the mother, than with the daughter. If his design had been first to conciliate Mrs. Hartley, his plan was certainly a good one. But he was innocent of any design, further than to gain opportunities for observing closely the character and disposition of Marien. He had ample means for supporting a wife, and had been looking about him for one at least a year. The first impression made upon him by Marien was favorable. He was not struck by her beauty and accomplishments half so much, as by the sentiments which he occasionally heard fall from her lips. The way in which her parents guarded her, he saw and understood at once, and this strengthened his belief that she was a precious treasure for him who could win her heart.

While he observed her at a distance, as it were, others were clustering around her, and using every art to gain her favor. But, even while they were pressing for attention, her eye was wandering away to him; and often the words which they uttered were unheard, in her recollection of sentiments which he had spoken. Why this was so, Marien did not ask herself. She did not even notice the fact. When the young man, at last, began to make advances, she received them with an inward pleasure unfelt before. This did not escape the mother's watchful eye. But she had no word to say in objection. Long before any serious inroad upon Marien's affections had been made, father, mother, and brother were thoroughly acquainted with the young man's family, standing and character. They were unimpeachable.

When he, finally, made application for her hand, he received, promptly, this answer:

"Take her, and may she be to you as good a wife — as she has been to us a child."

Marien was twenty-three years of age, when she became a wedded wife. Many wed younger — but few as wisely.

The next event of interest in the life of Mrs. Hartley, was the marriage of Clarence. In this matter, she was careful to leave her son in the most perfect freedom. Although from principle she did this, she was not without great concern on the subject, for she well knew that his whole character would be modified for good or evil, by his wife. It is enough to say, that Clarence chose wisely. <p>

Chapter 16. Conclusion.

Having brought our readers to this point, not, we hope, without profit to themselves, we find that we have little more to add. The mother's untiring devotion to her children has not been in vain. The good seed sown in their minds, has produced a pleasant harvest.

We could present a strong and painful contrast in the results attendant upon the course pursued by Mrs. Fielding; but we will not do so. It would be of little use to throw dark shadows upon the picture we have drawn. There are few who read this, who cannot look around and see the baleful consequences which have followed neglect and indifference such as were manifested by Mrs. Fielding towards her children. The instances are, alas, too numerous.

In closing this volume, the author would remark to those who may feel disappointed in not finding it so full of incident and description as they had expected, that to have given it alighter character would have required the sacrifice of much that he wished to say. The subject is one so full of interest to a certain class, that no charms of fiction were required to hold their attention. To have extended our book further, or to have introduced a greater variety of scenes, would have occupied the time and attention of the reader to very little purpose. To those who have read aright, enough has been said — volumes would do no good to those who have not.

THE END.


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