IMPORTANT POINTS.
ON Sunday evening, as the family came out of church, Robert
affectionately drew his aunt's arm within his own, saying playfully:
"It's my turn now, father; we'll follow you and mother at our ease."
Mr. and Mrs. Taylor nodded and walked on, but the whole party were
presently stopped by the appearance of Miss Brooks and some young
friends, who inclined to exchange a word or two.
The young woman was a great deal too much dressed for her position in
life, but not more so than those about her, and was only noticeable
in contrast with the simplicity and neatness of Mrs. Taylor and her
daughters.
"We are just going to saunter along the river banks a little way, Mrs.
Taylor," said Miss Brooks, "may Susan and Bessy come too?"
"No, thank you, my dear," said Susan; "they will take a little walk
with 'us.' Good evening."
"Right, Susan," thought Mrs. Hayes, and she saw the eyes of the young
dressmaker and her friends glance towards Robert. "They would like you
to go with them, Robert," whispered she; "don't make the old woman a
bugbear to them. Go, if you like." And she withdrew from his arm.
But Robert held her tight. "I am going with you, aunt," he said,
firmly. And however he might have been inclined to a walk with Miss
Brooks herself, he was not going to be carried off bodily by the gay
troop around her.
Mrs. Hayes stole a glance at his face, which was flushed and grave,
and while they walked on in silence, she thought her own thoughts, and
instead of beating about with them, went straight to head-quarters with
her conclusions.
"Robert, my dear," said she, abruptly, "does she fear God?"—The
old-fashioned expression which, to her mind, included the whole
blessings of the Christian life.
Robert Taylor had no affectation: he knew perfectly well whom "she"
meant, and quickly guessed the train of thought which had led to the
question.
"I don't know, aunt," he promptly replied; "I am trying to find out."
"Hum, then it does matter to him," thought Aunt Hayes, with regret.
"Well, my dear, and how are you going to find out? Take care that
meanwhile she does not get to believe that you love her beyond recall."
"I will never trifle about such a matter," said Robert, warmly;
"but I don't know how to judge of her real character without making
opportunities, and such opportunities may betray my regard without
winning hers."
"It's awkward on both sides," said Mrs. Hayes; "for if, after keeping
company awhile, young people find out that they are not suited to each
other, an outcry is raised about flirting, and deceiving, and what not.
I do think it a grievous pity that young men and women have so little
opportunity of really knowing each other's characters before they are
what they call 'engaged.' Why, the most important thing in their whole
lives has to be fixed all at once, like buying a horse or cow, on the
credit of good looks or somebody's recommendation. It never comes out
what one really is till you shut doors with her, when it's too late to
find fault, and the poor things must make the best of it then."
"You have found out what I didn't wish to speak of to anybody yet,"
said Robert. "Can you help me a little without exciting attention?"
"Maybe I can, Robert; but, my dear boy, will you be guided by what
we may discover as we become better acquainted with her? And, if her
pretty face and pleasant manners should not cover heart, and temper,
and principles such as you ought to look for in a wife, what then? Will
you, like many a simpleton, fancy you can make her what you love and
wish her to be, and—"
"No, aunt, I should not presume so far as that; I should like my wife
to be of God's making, and His gift to me."
"Good," thought Mrs. Hayes, joyfully; "he'll not marry this girl,
unless they were to catch him on the ground of 'honour,' and 'entangled
affections,' and so forth, the which I'll do my part to prevent. She
may, however, be a good girl after all; we'll see."
"Ask the Lord to guide all about it, Robert," said she; "He loves
you, and will not throw away anything so precious to Himself as your
happiness, if you'll leave it in His keeping. Make much of the matter
of temper, Robert; next to piety and virtue, a woman's temper is the
most important thing." And Aunt Hayes sighed softly, as memory retraced
her own career.
"Your Uncle Jonathan," she continued, "wanted a thrifty, industrious
wife; and, though I say it that shouldn't, perhaps, he got one."
"I'm sure he did, aunt," said Robert, smiling.
"Ah, but what did he get besides? A cross-grained temper that never
made allowances for anybody, and worried him with fidgets, and fuss,
and particularity, so that he couldn't say home was his own, and that
never thought anybody knew anything but herself. Ah, I've shed many a
sorrowful tear over it since he went where I can do nothing for him
more."
"Dear aunt," said Robert, tenderly, "I do assure you, he always told
Milly and me that you were the comfort of his heart, and had been a
blessing to him all his life."
"Ah, my dear, he was content to let bygones be bygones; and after that
time that you and Milly and your mother came to stay with us, things
got to be different, I know. But then, we'd lost years of happiness,
and I'd got a sharp disagreeable way with me that has never been quite
done with, do what I will."
"Well, I'm sure I don't want you different from what you are," said
Robert; "nor does any one else that I know of."
"Well, dear, I only spoke of myself as a warning to you, to see that
you choose for a wife one who is gentle-tempered and humble-minded."
"Or that she has the good secret for curing a bad temper; won't that do
as well, aunt?"
Mrs. Hayes shook her head.
"I think not entirely, Robert; though wherever there's much character,
there's often something of a stubborn temper to control. Get both
if you can. But don't mistake me. I've no patience with flimsy,
wishy-washy things that can't stand the storms of life, and who droop
under a cloud like a stricken flower. Such are not wives for working
men, nor any men, for that matter. No, I should like your wife to be
one who marries you not merely because you ask her, but because she
wishes to help you, and believes you will help her to serve God, and do
your duty in the station of life in which it has pleased Him to place
you; one who will stand by you through life, come weal come woe, with a
backbone as straight and strong as your own. That's the woman I respect
and love."
"That's just my mother," said Robert.
"So it is, and just Milly too, when her time comes. By-the-by, Robert,
who is that young man that came in the other evening? And what does he
want at your father's house?"
"He is lately come to be head gardener at Lord Crewe's, and I suspect,
though I don't really know, that he wants to get acquainted with our
Milly."
"I suspect so too. Well, I didn't take to him at all. 'Wise in his own
conceits' was the text he made me think of. However, Milly is not to
be caught with a clattering tongue. Mind you take her up to the house
yourself if she comes when he's there, and don't on any account let him
do it."
"No, that I shan't," said Robert, laughing; "I'm not going to help any
beaux to make up to Milly. I've always hoped that she'll live with me
when I get a home of my own."
"What, if you marry?" asked Mrs. Hayes.
"Yes; why not?"
"Then you and she will make a terrible mistake, my lad: a mistake
that many a brother has made innocently enough, but none the less
mischievous for that. No, no; let your wife have her home to herself,
or she'll never settle in it as she ought. I've seen a few things in my
time; and I see this among them, both for high and low, rich and poor,
that married people should have no relations in the house to put in a
word between them. It's a temptation that scarcely anybody has strength
to resist.
"There must always be things in a family to consider, and talk over
and judge about, and husband and wife should do it for themselves. If
they don't agree, they should think and pray about it till one sees it
right to give up; but woe to the meddler that puts in for a casting
vote, or pretends to know better than either one or the other! Mothers
and mothers-in-law, sisters and sisters-in-law, are all well enough in
their own places, and long life to them there; but they're out of their
place in the families of sons and brothers; and having 'an interest' in
everything (as they say), they seldom or never have sense to hold their
tongues. But just see, now, here's even the old great-aunt meddling and
giving opinions without waiting to be asked."
"Go on and welcome," said Robert; "I see the wisdom of your opinions,
aunt."
"About this affair, my dear lad; I've thought of a little plan to
help you both to know something more of each other without seeming
particular. I do wish young people's heads weren't so full of
themselves as to fancy every little attention or kindness means more
than it ought to mean until there's a good foundation for it, and that
simpering misses wouldn't suppose themselves so desirable as wives and
companions to sensible men. But, dear me, what a change comes over some
of them in a year or two! You wouldn't know the pretty trim-looking
things again, in the slatterns and idlers that dare to face their
husbands with uncombed hair and ragged gowns. If they dressed to catch,
they should dress to keep, and not treat a man as if he had lost all
taste, and feeling, and sense, because he's married. God save you from
such as that, my boy; and he will if you'll mind his word, and let it
be 'only in the Lord.'"
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