Volume III. The Mother CHAPTER 8.
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Mr. Riston did not make his appearance at dinnertime, preferring to get something to eat at one of the public dining-rooms — to meeting his perverse-minded wife. He did not know that she was prepared to give him a much pleasanter reception than he had every reason to believe that she would.
Evening came, and the unhappy husband — for unhappy, though resolute, he really was — took his way homeward. When he entered his boarding-house, he went to the public parlor, and sat down there to await the ringing of the tea-bell, instead of going up to his own room. At the supper table he met his wife for the first time since morning. They sat side by side. But he did not speak to her, nor even look into her face. He was not a little surprised when she asked, in the ordinary indifferent tone with which she usually spoke to him, why he had not come home to dinner. He replied that he was very busy, and preferred dining in town. Mrs. Riston did not believe this of course. It was acting on his part as well as hers — and both understood that it was. But Mr. Riston felt puzzled.
After tea, the husband and wife retired to their apartment. Mr. Riston made no attempt to introduce the subject about which they had jarred so heavily on the night before; but his wife dexterously brought it in, and then declared that, rather than there should be the exposure he threatened, she would submit, though with great reluctance. A few convenient tears watered this concession. Mr. Riston was softened.
"I cannot yield the point of going to housekeeping," he said. "But I am very willing to defer to your judgment in the selection of a house, and to let your taste govern in furnishing it."
"Where is the house you have fixed upon?" asked Mrs. Riston.
"In Ninth Street."
"What kind of a house is it?"
"A very good house. I have no doubt but that you will like it. Tomorrow we will walk round there. I have the key."
Mrs. Riston thought it just as well to reserve her objections until she saw the house, for then she could have something real upon which to ground them.
On the next day, after breakfast, in apparently a very good mood, Ellen started out with her husband to visit the house he had pitched upon.
"How much is the rent?" she thought proper to ask on the way.
"Three hundred and fifty dollars," replied Mr. Riston.
"It can't be much of a house at that price," quietly remarked the lady.
"I think it a very excellent house. In some situations it would rent for sixty guineas."
Mrs. Riston said no more, but walked on. Her mind was made up as to the game she would play. In thinking how she would thwart her husband, she felt a secret delight. At length they were at the door. The key was applied, and they entered the house. First they looked through the parlors.
"These are very fine rooms," said the husband.
"Miserable wall-paper!" said the wife.
"I don't know. I think it very good."
"Hardly fit for a garret. Isn't it astonishing that anybody could have the execrable taste to select such a pattern?"
"No doubt the landlord will give us new paper."
"And such mantelpieces! I wouldn't be forced to look at them every day for a month — if anybody would give me their weight in gold."
"I am sure, Ellen, that I don't see anything so offensive in them."
"Well, I do, then. But come; let us go up into the chambers."
Up they went.
"Just as I supposed it would be. No paper on the walls."
"The landlord will paper the chambers, if we ask him, I am sure."
"He may paper them with gold leaf, if he chooses, but I would not live in this house!"
"Why, Ellen! What do you mean?"
"Just what I have said. The fact is, I don't like the house at all, and can't imagine how you could have conceived, for a single moment, the idea of renting it!"
"I think it a very excellent house."
"You do?"
"Certainly. A very genteel, comfortable house."
"Genteel! Oh, ha! Your ideas of gentility and mine differ vastly. I can't live here, Mr. Riston. If I must go to housekeeping, I will be the mistress of something that suits my taste much better than this does."
"Suppose you look for a house yourself. I am willing. If you are not pleased with this one — see if you cannot find another that you like better."
This was gaining one point. Mrs. Riston agreed to look out herself. Two days afterwards she said to her husband,
"I think I have met with a house that is just the thing."
"I am glad to hear it. Where is it situated?"
"In Arch Street, above Tenth."
"What is the rent?"
"Only nine hundred dollars. It is a very cheap house, for so fine a one."
"Nine hundred dollars!" exclaimed Mr. Riston, in surprise.
"Yes, that is the rent."
"But you certainly do not think about our renting a house at nine hundred dollars?"
"Why not? It is just the thing; I know you will be delighted with it."
"Not at nine hundred dollars!"
"The rent is very reasonable, Mr. Riston. You don't know what an elegant house it is."
"No doubt it is elegant enough, my dear, but we can't afford to pay nine hundred dollars rent for a dwelling."
"How much do you pay for your store?"
"I pay a thousand dollars. But — "
"Very well, if you can pay a thousand dollars for a store, I see no reason why you can't pay nine hundred for a dwelling."
"But a store, Ellen, is a place of business; the rent of which is — "
"And a dwelling house is a place of residence. Where is the difference, please?"
"A very great difference. The rent of a store always depends upon the amount of business that can be done "
"Don't talk all that nonsense to me, Mr. Riston." I don't pretend to understand a word of it. To my mind there is no reason whatever why a man should pay more rent for a storethan for a dwelling."
"But look at it for a moment in a common sense — "
"I don't pretend to know anything about common sense, Mr. Riston."
"Really, Ellen, you are the most unreasonable woman I ever met in my life!"
"Quite complimentary! No doubt you think so. But thank goodness — your opinion of me will never break my heart."
A pause in the coming tempest followed this fitful gust.
"You cannot be in earnest about the house you speak of in Arch Street?" at length resumed the husband.
"Why not, please?"
"I cannot afford such a rent, Ellen."
"You don't suppose, for a moment, that I believe that kind of nonsense," retorted the wife.
"I tell you, it is true!" Mr. Riston spoke with some warmth.
The lady tossed her head incredulously.
"As to paying nine hundred dollars for a house, I can assure you at the threshold, that the thing is not to be thought of for a moment!"
"Well, just as you like. You can go and rent that pigeon box in Ninth Street if you please, and keep bachelor's hall. I shall not go into it, nor into any such base house. When I go to housekeeping, if go I must, it will be in a decent way."
"Decent? Please, what do you call decent?"
"I call the house in Arch Street, a decent house."
Mr. Riston was angry and bewildered.
"It is no use for you to think of a house at nine hundred dollars, Ellen," he said. "The thing is out of the question. My circumstances are not such as to — "
"There, there, now, Mr. Riston, I don't want another word about your circumstances! I have heard nothing else I believe since we were married."
"But won't you listen to common sense, woman?"
"Woman! Indeed!"
"Wife, then, if that will sound any better to your ear, though a very strange kind of a wife you are, let me tell you!" This remark would have made Mrs. Riston very angry if it had been uttered under different circumstances. But her mind was intent upon thwarting her husband, and she knew that she was chafing him severely. Considering his temperament, she was neither surprised nor pained at his words.
For two or three days the contention about the house in Arch Street went on. The husband remained so firm, that Mrs. Riston, after several conferences with her friend Mrs. Leslie, deemed it best to yield a little on the rent of the house, with the determination of making it up in the furniture. The handsome dwelling in Walnut Street, which Mr. Hartley had wished to take, still remained vacant. The rent of this was seven hundred dollars per annum. With much tact, Mrs. Riston directed the thoughts of her husband to this house, and actually induced him, by seeming herself to be resolved on the house in Arch Street, to propose to rent this one. With apparent great reluctance the lady yielded, finally, her preference for the nine hundred dollar house.
The contention with his wife about the choice of a dwelling had been such a severe one, that when a new difference of opinion in regard to the style of furnishing it showed itself, Mr. Riston retired at once from a combat in which he felt that inglorious defeat awaited him. With a sigh, and a foreboding of evil, he resigned to her the task of selecting the furniture, not, however, until he had expressed a willingness to remain where they were, rather than be subjected to the heavy expense which he saw too plainly housekeeping would involve.
"Oh, no, no," was his lady's reply. "This is all of your own seeking. Things have gone too far now. We have already taken the house, and my heart is set upon having it fitted up in a delightful way. I am not one of your changeables. When I once set my mind upon doing a thing — I must go to the end."
Nothing was left but quiet submission — or a prolonged contention — the result of which in the husband's mind was very doubtful. He weakly chose the former, against all the higher dictates of his reason; thus giving to a self-willed, vain and unfeeling woman, a new and more dangerous power over him.
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