It was not long before William had his family domesticated in his home.
For a while it required most of his time and attention to restore them
and Merle to even seemingly well conditions. By the time one was better
another would fail, yet this was the happiest period so far in his life,
and his contented mind showed forth in his every expression and act. Not
that every condition was precisely what he desired, for there were often
conflicts between stubborn wills, but he had been disciplined in the
stern, hard, rigid school of experience.
The loneliness he had endured in the beautiful home that was the envy of
so many, will never be known to any save himself. His wife can never
realize it, for she has had her child to occupy her attention. His was a
nature hard to understand, as he possessed a pride so deep and strong it
was easier for him to endure suffering than to accept pity or sympathy.
The darkest season of his life had been lived alone. In early youth he
had been left an orphan, inheriting vast riches. His remembrances of his
parents were very vague, and he had neither agreed with nor respected
his guardian. He had been practically unrestricted and developed an
imperious, haughty temperament, expecting his words and wishes to always
command obedience and attention because they always had.
When he met Clarissa, she embodied, to his mind, just the qualities with
which he had endowed his ideal of woman. She was beautiful in person,
gracious and graceful in deportment, cultured, refined, and gifted with
a glorious voice that cultivation had rendered little less than
marvellous in power and richness. He immediately gave her all the love
that was in his hitherto unexpressed nature, and cherished only one
thought--to call her his.
The force and power of his intense nature was great. From his earliest
recollections he had been accustomed to obtain everything he had
desired, and this fact lent extra power to his purpose to win this woman
for his wife.
Never having learned to curb his desires, nor to experience failure, his
thoughts went forth ardent and strong, with never a doubt he should win
her, and his thoughts were therefore charged with unusually strong
magnetism. His wooing was short and ardent, for his imperious nature was
unwilling to await patiently what he might desire, and his world of
happiness was encompassed within the radius of her presence and
affection. He was impatient of any intrusion upon their privacy, and
being accustomed to consider his word and wishes as law, he had
believed a husband was master and arbiter of his wife's fate and life,
and became furiously jealous, exacting and unreasonable.
Some women would have yielded submissively to the demands he made upon
her, but Clarissa had herself been nurtured and developed under a regime
of independence similar to his own, and likewise thought her wishes
should always be consulted. Her beauty and talent had brought her
admiration, flattery and homage, and it was impossible that she should
be content or satisfied with one person's favor.
She was proud of her husband, loving him beyond all else on earth, but
she had ever been used to command--not to obey. Dictation brought forth
all the resistance and ire of her nature, and she would not yield. She
loved to be noticed, flattered and praised, and William's extreme
jealousy was therefore a tax upon her patience. Neither would change to
suit the methods of the other, for each thought the other wrong.
Finally there came a climax, unusually severe. Clarissa, thinking
herself greatly injured, left him, and taking Dinah, who had been her
nurse in childhood, returned to her father. James and Nancy had also
been servants in her father's house, following her when she married,
and went into her new home. James' sympathy, however, was with his young
master, whom he idolized, and he remained with him, trusting in a speedy
reunion, but William and Clarissa were too proud to seek each other's
forgiveness. Each believed the other to be entirely at fault.
William never had known he was a father, believing she had left him
because she preferred a man whom he bitterly hated, therefore never
sought to trace or find her. That people should not think he was weak
enough to suffer through a fickle woman, he immediately left the place,
and sought a new home, where he devoted all his time, wealth and energy
to the study of mesmeric influence, the efficacy of which he had heard
much. His pride continually said to him--"She has left you of her own
choice.--She has disgraced you.--You must never admit you suffer."
When angry, he was actually irresponsible for many of the things he did,
and the words he uttered. To so impetuous a nature, no other feeling
could be so strong as jealousy, which seemed to render him temporarily
insane.
In the very vortex of his passion, Clarissa told him she was about to
become a mother. Under any other conditions, how happy such a revelation
would have made him! Under such as those in which she had imparted the
information, however, she might as well have gone to a person incapable
of understanding as to expect him to remember what she said after they
had ceased their quarrel.
Of course, she believed he remembered what she had told him, and because
it did not soften his anger, making him loving and tender to her, she
rushed to the conclusion he did not want to acknowledge the child as his
own. Such injustice angered and irritated her, and she had returned to
her father, telling him her side of the story. Her father, having always
indulged her every whim, felt William was unjust, so made no effort to
reconcile the conditions. While Augustus was very young, he passed away,
leaving them alone, with plenty of money to care for themselves. Thus
both she and William suffered, never learning, even in the severe school
of life, to curb the haste of their uncontrolled natures.
There could be no better illustration of their attitude toward one
another than that of two positive chemicals, which the chemist of love
was trying to assimilate and compound into united action. Being equally
positive, they held one another at bay, or at least, at such a distance
as to preserve their individualities from the influence of the other,
consequently were never drawn into concerted action as the object of
each seemed to be to enhance his or her individuality.
Neither being wholly right or wholly wrong, both did as well as they
understood, and the stern discipline of suffering was needed to refine
their souls and bring into prominence their real value and worth.
In like manner as a diamond when taken from the ground contains within
itself all the beauty and excellence it can be made to show, they were
obliged to pass through the tests of true love, which declare its real
worth, and bring forth such proofs of its superiority over mere physical
attraction, as the passage of the diamond through the fierce tests of
heat and fire, which proclaim its value beyond that of the ingenious and
skillful imitations, for while they become disintegrated and their
beauties are destroyed, the real gems only gleam the brighter because of
the severity of the test. Like the diamond, the jewel of true love must
always possess the ability to rise superior to those conditions which
quench and destroy the flame of physical attraction often masquerading
under the guise of love. The stronger and purer the love, the greater
and more severe the tests it can withstand.
Both William and Clarissa had suffered much; instead, however, of
estranging their souls, or, as many would say, their hearts, it only
served to draw them nearer together, though they were physically far
apart. No other woman could satisfy William's ideals, and no other man
could fill William's place in Clarissa's affections, although they were
unable to agree or satisfy one another, neither would acknowledge any
wrong, so while each longed for the other's love and confidence, neither
would make advances toward a reconciliation.
The fires of the furnace of suffering had destroyed much dross in both
their natures, while the real jewel of their loves gleamed brighter and
brighter as time passed.
Augustus passed his embryotic development and birth under such
conditions, while his mother was suffering and smarting from the wounds
of supposedly unappreciated love. Clarissa tried to the best of her
knowledge to fill the place of both mother and father to him, going to
the opposite extreme, mistaking indulgence for the expression of love.
In so doing she was quite as selfish as William, who had expected so
much from her, finding her own happiness in Augustus' pleasure,
deceiving herself into the belief she was unselfish.
Such sentiments can never be unselfish, for does not unselfishness mean
the unalloyed pleasure of giving, lovingly and generously to another,
without consulting one's own aspirations, that the happiness which they
enjoy may be for their good and betterment?