I
“How do you do, Crashaw? didn't know you condescended to conversaziones
at the Town Hall, at least when there is no dancing. Their Worships will
be satisfied this evening, for the whole world and his wife seem to
be here, and some people that have never been in the world before, one
would judge.”
“There is just one person I wish particularly to see, and I can't find
her; that is Arkwright's young wife. I passed the old man himself a
minute ago, conversing with Peterson, and lecturing on the effect of the
American tariff on wool. Has he left her at home, Jack, to keep her out
of harm and to tantalise the public?”
“Not he. Jacob is quite proud of her, to do him justice, and worships
the ground on which she treads, although I doubt whether she knows that
or cares. Mrs. Arkwright is very beautiful In my humble judgment, but
there is a wide gulf between twenty-one and seventy. Besides, she has a
temper, and no sympathy with his religious notions. When December weds
May, it's bound to be either a comedy or a tragedy, and this is half and
between.”
“When you have quite finished your interesting moral reflections, Jack,
and can attend to practical detail, could you do me the pleasure of
pointing Mrs. Arkwright out to me, and, as you seem to have seen a good
deal of her, introducing your unworthy servant? I'll be able then to
judge for myself. We are obliged to Arkwright for creating a piquant
situation.”
“Come to the next room, where the band is playing; Mrs. Arkwright was
there ten minutes ago. But I don't know whether I can intrude on her
at the present moment, even although provided with so good-looking and
well-dressed an excuse. Yes; there, Crashaw, in the alcove, talking to a
parson, that is Jacob's wife. Was I right?”
“Your taste, Jack, is perfect; but, indeed, a man who admires Mrs.
Arkwright deserves no credit; it is inevitable. There is prettiness, and
there is sweetness, and there is taking-ness, and they are very well,
but this is on another level.”
“I thought you would be astonished, and am pleased to notice that even
so _blasé_ a critic of womankind can grow enthusiastic on occasion.
Isn't that a proud head?”
“Why, Jack, that woman ought to have been a duchess, and a leader of
society in town, instead of Mrs. Jacob Arkwright, wife of a self-made
wool-spinner and a deacon. Her face is the most complete piece of
Grecian beauty I ever saw--nose, eyes, chin, mouth, perfect; forehead
perhaps the slightest bit high--a Greek would have worn a ribbon--and
that glorious hair, brown shot with gold.”
“She is certainly looking splendid to-night Do you notice how she has
put the other women to confusion?”
“Simply a goddess among a lot of peasants. I say, Jack, how in the world
did that girl, with such a face and such an air, ever marry Arkwright?
Where was she hidden away? Had she no opportunity? Talk about waste,
this is an absolute sin. Do you know her history?”
“Lived with her mother, and got her living by teaching. Arkwright, who
has all his life been busy with wool and religious affairs, saw her
in chapel, and remembered he was human. Fell in love with her on first
sight, having lived scatheless unto threescore years and ten, and got a
fellow-deacon to negotiate the affair; at least, so it is reported.”
“Most likely, I should say; but, Jack, what an abandoned criminal that
mother of hers must have been, and what did she herself do this thing
for? She has a will of her own, or else I do not know a woman's face.”
“Oh, the old story. Her mother was proud and poor, and considered
Arkwright an excellent suitor. Mrs. Arkwright is not much troubled
about religion, and I fancy has a very different idea of things from her
husband, but she had the chance of a handsome provision for herself and
her mother, and she seized it There could be no romance; but can you
blame the old lady, Crashaw, urging such a marriage, or the daughter
escaping from the dreary governess life?”
“No, I suppose not. The girl took the veil, and obtained a settlement
at the same time, after a sound Protestant fashion; but it does seem
a crime against nature to sacrifice a beautiful young woman to a hard,
bloodless old Puritan like Arkwright, who is, I grant you, very able
in wool, and perfectly straight in character, but who is perfectly
uncultured and hopelessly bigoted. What a life of dreariness she must
lead in the Arkwright circle!”
“Well, of course she can't attend concerts, nor dance, nor hunt, nor go
into society, but she has a good home, and a carriage, and as much money
as she can spend. I don't suppose that she cares for Jacob, but she does
her duty as a wife, and does not seem unhappy.”
“Certainly Mrs. Arkwright is not unhappy this evening with her present
companion. I will hazard the guess, Jack, without any reflection on
her wifely character, that she never looked at her worthy, but not very
attractive, husband with the same interest which she is bestowing on
that handsome parson. Who is he, Jack?”
“Egerton's his name, and he's Arkwright's minister--a Congregationalism
or Baptist; I can never remember the difference. He is a very able
fellow, they say, and a rattling good preacher, quite broad and liberal
in his views, but a perfect ascetic in his life. He must be very much
in Mrs. Arkwright's company, and he's certainly the decentest man she
knows.”
“Arkwright is about seventy, and is not so strong as he looks, Jack; his
wife will have time to console herself, and her second husband will be a
very lucky man, for he will have a fortune and her heart.”