......FIXED in his resolution to repel every manifestation of
tenderness on the part of his wife, Percy Edwards maintained towards
her the same cold formality, in spite of all her earnest efforts to
break the icy crust of his feelings. He did not love her, and was
not inclined to affect a passion; nay, she was absolutely repulsive
to him, and the least he could do, under the circumstances, was to
protect himself as he did without overt acts of unkindness.
And thus disjoined, instead of united, Mr. and Mrs. Edwards moved
along their way through life, envied by hundreds, who, in exchanging
with them, would have left an Eden of happiness for a dreary
wilderness.
A few months of such an existence completely broke down the spirits
of Kate. She had no pride to sustain her. Thousands, as unloved as
she, seek refuge in pride, pleasure, and a heartless worship at the
gilded shrine of fashion. They meet coldness with a sharp disdain;
and, finding nothing to love at home, turn to what the world has to
offer, and become mere bubbles on the surface of society--prominent,
brilliant, and useless. Nay, worse than useless; for they reflect
the light of heaven falsely, and create discontent in those who see
only their glittering exterior, and vainly imagine it to be the
correspondent of internal delight.
It was not so with Kate; for she was sincere, unselfish, and
true-hearted, and could not seek a false pleasure, when the sources
of real delight became dry. A naiad, at a fountain, the waters of
which had failed, she turned not to another, but bent weeping over
the spot, hoping, yet faint with a long desire to hear the murmur of
the coming stream.
There fell, at last, a gleam of light across her path. In her dark
and cloudy sky arched, beautifully, a bow of promise. Hope, faint,
yet sweet to her spirit, revived, and she looked to the future with
a trembling heart. For a long time she locked in her own thoughts
the dear secret she had discovered and pondered over it with a daily
increasing pleasure. Then it was whispered, low and with a blushing
cheek, to her husband. She was to become a mother!
From that moment she felt that there was a change. From that moment
her husband's manner was different. He was still as polite and
formal as, before; but with these was blended a something that her
heart interpreted as tenderness for his wife; and from this her
fainting spirit drew the aliment that sustained it. If, suddenly
coming upon her now, he surprised her weeping, he did not turn away,
silent and cold, as before; but would speak some word of apparent
sympathy, which instantly dried up the fountains of grief. And thus
the time passed, until another being saw the light--until another
voice sounded upon the air. Oh! with what a thrill of delight did
the young mother take her new-born babe into her arms, and hail it
as the bond that was to bind to hers the heart of her husband. How
eagerly did she read the face of that husband--as he bent over and
gazed upon the innocent being to which she had given birth--and
marked its glow of pleasure. But, he did not look into _her_
face--he had eyes _only for his boy!_ The mother sighed faintly; but
he did not hear the sigh. Her long lashes fell slowly upon her
cheeks, and tears stole from beneath them; but he turned away
without observing she wept.
The bow of promise, which had spanned the heaven of her mind, faded
away; and the light that had lain so warmly upon her path grew dim.
There was love in the heart of her husband only for his child, but
none for her. That dreadful truth came with a shock, felt to the
very centre of her being; and, reacting upon her exhausted system,
disturbed all its vital functions. Fever and delirium laid their
hands upon her, and for many days the light of life but flickered in
the wind that seemed every moment about to extinguish it.
When, at last, through the skill of her physician, the disease
abated, and health, though feeble, began to flow once more through
her veins; and when reason came back, and with it the outgushing
tenderness of the young mother, she found that her babe had been
laid upon another breast, and that from another it was to draw the
sustenance which nature had supplied for it in her own bosom.
Against this her heart arose in instant rebellion. But no freedom of
choice was left her. The physician said that her health was too
slender to admit of the exhaustion attendant upon nursing her own
babe. The husband would not hear of such a thing for a moment. And
her husband's mother older-hearted and more worldly-minded than even
he, openly sneered at the idea of one in her position degrading
herself into a mere child's nurse!
It was all in vain that Kate pleaded, tearfully, for the mother's
highest privilege. Those who had the power forced her into a
compliance with their will; and the fountain in her bosom, that
stirred at the voice of her babe, was suffered to become dry.
From that time, the health of Mrs. Edwards visibly declined; or,
rather, was never restored to its previous condition. She became
subject to fainting fits and long periods of depression, from which
nothing could arouse her. The babe, instead of forming a link
between her and her husband, became a rival in his affections. Mr.
Edwards worshipped his boy; but, for his wife, had no feeling other
than indifference, if not absolute dislike. All this Kate saw; and
it extinguished her last and dearest hope.
To those who could only look upon the surface, Mr. Edwards was
regarded as one of the kindest and most attentive of husbands; and
when a rumour of his wife's fits of gloomy depression of spirits
went abroad, the fault was attributed to herself, and laid to the
charge of a naturally capricious and dissatisfied temper.
"If she had fewer of life's blessings," said one, "she would be
happier. The very surplus of every thing makes her appetite pall."
"Any woman, situated as she is," remarked another, "who is not
contented, deserves to be wretched. I have no sympathy for her. Her
husband I know very well, and know him to be one of the kindest and
most indulgent of men."
"He has indulged her too much," alleged another.
These impressions the elder Mrs. Edwards strengthened and confirmed,
whenever she had occasion to say any thing on the subject.
"Percy has rather a gloomy time of it," she would sometimes remark,
when allusion was made to the subject; and then, when the
inquisitive would ask as to the cause of Kate's strange conduct, she
would shake her head gravely, and say--
"Over-indulgence has spoiled her."