"There is a man who calls himself my husband; but he is so only in
name."
"Kate! Kate!" exclaimed her mother, "are you mad? How dare you utter
such language?"
"A heart that is breaking, mother," said the unhappy creature, "may
be pardoned, if, in a moment of intense suffering, it is betrayed
into an expression of pain."
A long and gloomy silence followed this remark, which smote with the
apparent force of a hammer upon the heart of Mrs. Harrison. No
further attempt was made, at the time, to induce Kate to yield to
the wishes of her friends. Her mother endeavoured, rather, to draw
off her mind from thoughts such as those to which she had just given
utterance. But, she was none the less deeply impressed with the
belief that the change proposed would be beneficial; nor did she
intend abandoning her efforts to induce her daughter to go from home
for a short season. At the first opportunity she had an interview
with Mr. Edwards, and held a conference with him on the subject of
Kate's mental disease. She found him rather reserved, and
disinclined to much conversation on the subject. But, on pressing
the matter upon him, he was more free to say what was in his mind.
To her expressions of concern for Kate, he responded with much
apparent earnestness; said that it gave him great concern, and that
he was satisfied she could not live over a few years if some change
did not take place.
"Since the birth of her child," said he, "she has never regained her
strength. That dangerous fever gave her system a terrible shock."
"I'm afraid," returned her mother, "that we erred in not permitting
her to nurse her child--what she so earnestly desired to do. She
cannot, it seems, get over that."
"She has never said so to me."
"But no later than yesterday she alluded to it while I talked with
her, and in a way that satisfied me of her having taken the matter
far more deeply to heart than I had imagined."
"That is a weakness, as you must yourself see, Mrs. Harrison. Apart
from considerations of health, I would not have my wife a mere wet
nurse; and I am surprised that she should have thought of such a
thing."
"The desire was but a natural one," replied Mrs. Harrison. "As to
there being any thing degrading in the act of a mother giving
nourishment to her own babe, as some strangely enough seem to think,
I cannot see it. I drank at my mother's breast, and my child, in
turn, drank at mine; and, I believe, it would have been far better
for Kate at this moment if she had done the same for her own
off-spring. In this matter, people are going against nature; and
whenever this is done, evil of some kind must inevitably follow."
"But, Mrs. Harrison," returned Edwards, "her state of health puts
this out of the question. You know that she was dangerously ill, and
that if a nurse had not been provided for the child, it would have
died."
"I know all that. But, when the sudden illness abated, and she was
able to give nourishment to her babe, all, with one accord, denied
her a mother's privilege, though she plead for it day after day with
tears. Ah, Percy! I fear a great and irreparable wrong was then
done."
"It may be so. But I cannot believe but that we acted rightly. Our
motives were at least good."
"No one doubts that."
"I am sure, if she would consent to leave home for a few weeks, her
health would improve," said Percy Edwards.
"It would, no doubt, benefit her. But she has an unconquerable
reluctance to going. Still, I think we may induce her to do as we
wish. Only we must act towards her with great tenderness. I am
afraid--pardon me for speaking plainly--that you do not consider,
sufficiently, her weak state. She needs to be treated with the
gentleness and affection that we show to a child."
Mr. Edwards looked surprised at this remark.
"I am sure, Mrs. Harrison," he replied, "no man could do more for
the happiness of a woman, than I do for that of Kate. How I could
act differently is more than I can imagine."
"It may be natural to you, Mr. Edwards," said Mrs. Harrison, "but
you are wanting in that tenderness of manner so grateful, nay, so
essential to the heart of a wife."
"I am!"
"I speak plainly, because the necessity for doing so is imperative.
Your manner towards Kate has ever been respectful, polite,
attentive, but not affectionate; and without the latter, the former
never can satisfy the heart of a loving woman. I do not blame you
for this. It may all be natural; but I feel it to be my duty to
speak of it now, and to suggest, at least temporarily, a change."