Lovers and Husbands CHAPTER 13.
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Arabella Lyon, from a playful, sprightly girl — became a fond and devoted wife. Won by the personal charms of her husband, her heart invested the object of its tender regard with virtues to which he was an utter stranger. Years passed before the veil fell from her eyes. When it did fall, and she awoke to the sad reality — her heart received a wound that nothing on earth could heal. Of the principles that governed her husband's conduct in the general affairs of life, she knew nothing — she perceived and felt only what regarded herself. In fact, her mind was not a very discriminating one, and in all matters that did not affect herself, his representations were taken without a doubt of their truth; but her affections were strong. To love her husband was to make him an idol; and, though he might be hideous to all the world from moral deformity — if he smiled upon her, she asked no more.
Four years passed without a cloud dimming her bright horizon. At the end of that period, both her uncle and aunt died suddenly. Nearly the whole of their great wealth was bequeathed to a distant relative. A few thousands of dollars alone were left to the niece. Garnett, who, with expectations raised to a high pitch, was present at the opening of the will — left the room the moment its contents were known. He was terribly disappointed. Returning home, he entered the room where his wife sat, and throwing himself into a chair, said, with bitter emphasis, and a dark scowl upon his brow,
"Your cursed old fool of an uncle has cut you off with the paltry sum of five thousand dollars!"
"Oh, Henry!" ejaculated the young wife, starting to her feel in alarm — not at the announced loss of anticipated wealth — but at the strange words and still stranger manner of her husband, "do not speak so."
"The old wretch!" was all the response of Garnett, as he ground his teeth in anger.
Arabella had never seen anything like this before in her husband. She had often noticed that he was easily excited — but towards her, and in her presence, his manner had been mainly gentle since their marriage, though not as affectionate as she could have desired. To her uncle and aunt, he had ever been kind and attentive; and yet all had beenpretended. He had married Arabella, not because he loved her above all other women — not because he thought her the most congenial companion he could find — but for money! As to her intellect — that he despised. The wealth for which he had married, was in the hands of the uncle. To make sure of this, he strove to appear one of the best and kindest of husbands. He deceived only Arabella. Her shrewd uncle saw much more deeply into his character; and justly incensed that his wealth should have been the prize aimed at in running away with his niece — he resolved to disappoint the sordid money-hunter; and he did so effectually.
"Henry," said his wife, going up to him and laying her hand gently upon his arm, after the last-mentioned bitter ejaculation had been uttered, "let us be thankful that we are yet left to each other. My uncle had the right to give his money to whomever he chose — but he cannot rob us of mutual love. Think of that, Henry."
Her husband did not reply to this. He only looked at her coldly and sternly. The expression of his countenance made her shudder. Covering her face with her hands, she shrunk away from him, and, dropping into a chair, began to weep. At this Garnett arose, and muttering something, the import of which she but half comprehended, left the room. The street door closed a minute after with a heavy jar. The sound of this made Arabella startle to her feet. For some moments she stood with a bewildered air, and then sunk into the chair from which she had risen, burying her face in her hands and again crying bitterly.
This occurred early in the day. The dinner hour came — but Garnett did not return. He cared as little to eat — as he did to see his wife. Arabella waited anxiously, and wept at the long delay. The food was removed untasted. Slowly and wearily passed the hours until nightfall. At last the sound of his footsteps was heard below, and his wife sprang down the stairs to meet him; but he received her coldly, and declined answering her questions as to why he had not come home at the usual hour. Checked and chilled to the heart, Arabella shrunk away from him, while he showed no inclination to confer with her upon any subject. When tea was announced, he took his place at the table in silence. She did not venture to speak to him again, and he said nothing to her. He sat but a little while, and then retired into the parlor. There his wife did not follow — but went up into her chamber to attend to her child, a boy now nearly three years old. The prattle of the bright little fellow did not charm her ear as it had ever done before. Her thoughts were away from him. Not until his tiny hands were pressed to her face, and his voice, changed to a saddened tone, uttered the words,
"Don't cry, mamma — Henry be a good boy," was she conscious that she was really weeping. Drying her tears hastily, she lifted him in her arms and clasped him tightly to her bosom, murmuring as she did so,
"Dear, dear child!" then laying him in his little bed, she kissed him tenderly, and, after returning his "good-night," went downstairs. As she entered the parlor, she heard the street door close. Her husband had left the house! A heart-sickening thought came into her mind — the thought that he had never loved her — that he had sought her hand in the hope of obtaining with it the riches which common rumor said she was to inherit from her uncle; but this was instantly repelled as an idea not to be entertained for a moment.
In the meantime, Garnett, whose disappointment had been so sudden and so severe as to deprive him of even decent self-control, went from his house to his office, where he threw himself into a chair, and sat for nearly half an hour almost as immovable as a statue. There was but one feeling and one thought active in his mind. Rousing himself up at last, and rising to his feet as he uttered a bitter imprecation against the individual who had chosen to cut him off with a mere nominal bequest — he sought the physical relief of hurriedly walking the floor of his office. As he did so, a thought of the cruelty of his conduct towards Arabella crossed his mind, and also the necessity of keeping up appearances in regard to her. This thought was but the germ of others of a like character. Shame, if not a better feeling, caused his cheek to burn, as he remembered how rudely he had treated her, and how apparent it must be to her mind, that he cared little for her — in comparison with the wealth of her deceased uncle. Influenced by these thoughts, he had already made a movement to leave his office and return home, when the door opened and his wife glided in.
"Arabella!" he exclaimed, in surprise.
"Dear husband!" she said, endeavoring to smile as she advanced towards him, "I tried to compel myself to wait until you returned home — but I could not. My heart fluttered so, try all that I would to keep it still, that I was frightened. Do not be angry with me for coming here in the hope of finding you. I could not help it. And now that I am here — tell me why you turned from me so coldly. You will kill me if you do not."
There was a wildness about the eyes of Arabella that her forced smile could not hide, while she panted rather than breathed. This her husband saw, and it alarmed him.
"Don't be a foolish child," he returned, in a half-playful, half-reproving tone; "I was too much mortified and disappointed at the will, to be myself; and still, I cannot get over it."
"Surely we needn't mind that, dear husband!" returned Arabella, earnestly. "Mere wealth cannot give happiness. If you will never think of it again, I will not. Your lot, be it what it may, I am willing to share."
The fond devotedness of his wife, expressed with an eloquence of feeling that gave power to every word, touched Garnett, and led him to change his whole manner towards her. He answered kindly, and at once returned with her to their house, where he spent the evening in a forced effort to appear as he had before appeared; but the strong incentive that had for years caused him to act in a pretended character so perfectly, as to deceive even the eyes of his wife — no longer existed. It was hard work, therefore, to be as he had been, especially as the shock that undeceived him in the matter of his great expectations had been of such recent occurrence. Arabella felt that her husband was indeed changed. There was no affection in his words — no heart in his smile. All appeared to her as it really was — dead, cold acting. It was not long before conversation ceased altogether, and both husband and wife became buried in thoughts that neither would like to have uttered.
From that time, there was a gradual change in Garnett's manner towards his wife. He was not openly unkind — but silent at first; then cold; and, finally, indifferent. Through her, he had long done homage at the shrine of Mammon — but his golden hopes had proved vain; and when he turned from the false god he had worshiped, he no longer regarded the priestess with interest. Fixing his eye once more with a steadier gaze upon the star that had charmed his vision, before the hope of attaining great wealth had caused him to look away from it — he resolved to make more rapid strides than had yet been made towards reaching that eminence among men after which his soul longed. He had talents, already stood high as a skillful lawyer, and had a large and increasing practice. A proud eminence among men of talents awaited him.
In selecting Flora Elton, years before, as the one most suited to become his partner in life, he had looked, above all other merits that she possessed, to the fact that she had a strong, well-stored, finely-balanced mind, and would reflect honor upon her husband as a man of talents, no matter how high in the social rank he might be able to place her. But she whom he now called his wife could throw no such luster upon her husband; she had not a strong, brilliant mind; she was not an intellectual woman. This fact was continually pressing itself upon him, the more active the spirit of ambition became within him; and the more he allowed himself thus to think — the more he saw the weakness of her mind, and the more contempt he felt for it.
It was impossible for such thoughts to exist without their exhibition to his wife in some form or other. Poor Arabella soon learned the sad truth, that she had lost all power over her husband. His indifference he no longer attempted to conceal, except in company, and then a consciousness that he was indifferent led him to show her necessary attentions, in order to deceive the general eye. In this he was ordinarily successful — so much so, that Arabella was often congratulated on possessing so devoted a husband, at the very moment that her heart was aching on account of his neglect!
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