CONJECTURES.
Earnestly did Coldstream strive to impart cheerfulness to his young
wife, but he could not give what he himself did not possess. He read
aloud to her lively books, brought Shakespeare and Hood for evening
amusement; but Hood’s jests fell utterly flat, and even Petruchio
caused no smile. The doctor recommended horse exercise: the prettiest
pony in Moulmein was instantly purchased. Oscar procured flowers of
the most rare kind, fruits of the most delicate flavour. Thud enjoyed
the fruits, Io languidly admired the flowers; but the rose did not
return to the lady’s cheek, nor the smile to her lips. At first Oscar’s
considerate kindness but raised the thought, “How conscientiously my
poor husband tries to do his duty, and hide from his wife that he only
married her from pity!” Gradually, however, another thought arose,
“All this beautiful tenderness cannot be feigned. My Oscar can never
deceive.”
There was a great deal of gossip in the small society of Moulmein
regarding the Coldstreams. Mrs. Cottle, a vulgar, bustling little woman,
declared that she knew for certain that Mr. Coldstream ill-treated
or at least neglected his wife. It was clear that they did not “pull
together.” Dr. Pinfold doubted whether the climate of Moulmein suited
the constitution of Io. Thud, in slow measured tones, as if pronouncing
a medical opinion founded on deep study of the case, declared that
his sister had caught some kind of malady from that Karen girl who
was always dangling at her heels; the fact being that almost the
sole pleasure which Io was now able to enjoy was that of tending and
teaching the docile and grateful orphan.
The friend who took the most earnest and prayerful interest in what
concerned the Coldstreams was Mark Lawrence, the chaplain. He noticed
that Io now looked almost as sad as her husband, and Mark naturally
attributed her sorrow to the too evident fact that something was hiding
the light of God’s countenance from Oscar Coldstream. It was a cause of
grief to the wife (of this Mark felt assured) that lips once eloquent
for the Master were strangely sealed; that a sincere Christian, as the
chaplain believed his friend to be, could not, or would not, enjoy the
child’s privilege of approaching his Father’s table. The more earnest
the wife’s piety, the deeper her sorrow if her husband could not
participate in its comfort.
“But the wife takes a wrong way if she seeks to win a wanderer back
by reproaches, even if conveyed but by sorrowful looks,” thought Mark.
“I do not believe a word of what Mrs. Cottle says of unkindness on
Coldstream’s part, but his manner may betray that he is wounded and
hurt. A small, almost imperceptible rift may be widened, a slight
injury be fretted into a sore.”
Such thoughts were on the mind of the pastor as he bent his steps one
day to the dwelling of the Coldstreams. Mark found the lady in the
veranda, and alone.
Io had had no opportunity of speaking quietly with Mr. Lawrence since
he had had that private conversation with her husband which has been
recorded above. Io had longed to know whether the chaplain’s fears as
to the evil influence of Mr. Mace had been dissipated or confirmed.
A feeling of delicacy prevented Io from asking any question, but
Mark anticipated her wish. The chaplain had scarcely done more than
exchanged greetings with the lady, and taken a seat near her, when he
entered himself on the subject which was uppermost in each mind.
“Mrs. Coldstream,” said Mark, “I had done injustice to your husband
when suspecting, even for a moment, that the words of an infidel could
have the slightest effect on a mind so clear and steady as his. Let me
repeat to you Mr. Coldstream’s own words. He said that any difficulties
on the subject of Christianity which might have arisen in his mind in
his youth had been but as light vapours; they had led him but to more
close examination of the Rock behind them, and on that Rock he had long
since planted his foot.”
“Thank God for that!” exclaimed Io.
“You have yet more for which to thank Him,” said the chaplain. “Far
from Mr. Mace having drawn away your husband from that Rock, the
freethinker has been drawn towards it by the Christian, and the result
of that intercourse has been the salvation of the infidel’s soul.”
“Most blessed work!” murmured Io, joyful tears suffusing her eyes.
“I am persuaded,” continued Mr. Lawrence, “that it is only some passing
cloud that now casts a shadow over my dear friend, and prevents him
from being able to enjoy the full privileges of a believer. The cloud
will pass, I feel assured that it will pass for ever away, and my
friend, himself rejoicing in the light, will again throw himself, heart
and soul, into the happy service of his Lord.”
“God grant it!” said Io fervently, the tears which had glistened
beneath her dark lashes now bedewing her cheeks. “I hope much from your
counsel and friendship.”
“Nay, let your hope rest on God’s mercy and love,” said Mark Lawrence,
“and hasten the blessing by faith and prayer. You can do far more than
I can, Mrs. Coldstream, to restore happiness to your husband.”
“What can I do?” asked Io faintly.
“You can show him that _you_ have the light on your soul; that _you_
know by experience the joy of a true believer; that your religion is
indeed your comfort; that you have found that all her ways are ways of
pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace.”
The clergyman’s words came to Io as a gentle reproof, and she accepted
it in a child-like spirit. Its effect was deepened by a rude remark
which had been made by Thud in the morning. “I have an idea,” he had
said, “that wives think it their duty to worry their husbands. You
never thought of being so sickly and stupid before you were married.”