DISAPPOINTMENT.
That Spring was a crisis in Rachel's life. She felt to have travelled
far along the road of experience since that moonlight night last
summer, when she had thought that she had just married a man who would
fulfil all her expectations and hopes.
She had, as it were, been exploring since her marriage, a new piece
of country, and though she had often rejoiced to find herself on the
mountain top, she had at times to walk in the shade of the valley. It
was not quite what she had anticipated. There were rough places, and
disappointing views, and she had had to confess that the landscape was
not all as perfect as she had thought she would find it.
She took a long time before acknowledging to herself that Luke
had somewhat disappointed her; and when she could hide the fact
from herself no longer, she recognised at the same time that the
disappointment was partly her own fault. She had expected too much
from a human being; she had steadily refused to see any fault in him.
But finding he had weaknesses, did not diminish her love for him in
the least; it really enhanced it; and added something of a tender
mother-love to that of a wife. And a time came when she could thank God
that her eyes had been opened, and indeed opened so slowly that she was
able to bear it. For she learnt the truth of those words:
"From the best bliss that earth imparts,
We turn unfilled to Thee again."
In her disappointment she turned to the ONE Who never disappoints, and
Who is "the same yesterday, and to-day and for ever."
Till now she had lived for her husband, and her one absorbing aim had
been to please him; her wish to do God's work in the parish was just to
help Luke; he was the centre of all her thoughts; and she was conscious
that her spiritual life had been hampered and dwarfed by the one
consuming wish to be all in all to him.
The discovery that he could after all never satisfy the hunger of her
heart, sent her back to Christ. Indeed it had changed her view about
many things. She was no longer worried because her husband did not seem
to want her help or think her capable of parish work. If, as it seemed,
God's Will was for her to do simply the duties of her quiet home life,
she would do them, not only for the sake of her husband but for her
God, the God Who notices if only a cup of cold water is given in the
name of a disciple for His sake.
The discovery changed also her views as to her mother-in-law. Her
antagonism to her was chiefly due to the fact that she had prevented
her from working in the parish and so becoming a still greater
necessity to Luke. But if it was not the Will of God that she should
do that kind of work, why worry and fret about it? She would just wait
till she was shown distinctly what her duty was in the matter and
meanwhile could she be training for the greatest work of all?
So it is, that our disappointments, if we do not allow them to embitter
us, drive us back to the ONE Who alone can satisfy our restless hungry
hearts.
As Spring passed away and the early summer took its place Rachel began
to pant for the sea or country. She felt it difficult to wait patiently
till August, which was the month in which Luke generally took his
holiday. She was feeling limp herself and he was looking tired and worn
out and much needed a change.
Although Rachel opened every window in the house, no air seemed to
penetrate the narrow road in which it stood, and it was so small that
it was difficult to get away from the sun. In the morning it filled the
dining-room, and in the afternoon the drawing-room.
At the beginning of June she approached the subject of their holiday.
They were sitting at breakfast and Rachel was feeling the heat almost
unbearable.
"Shan't you be thankful when August comes?" she sighed. "Where shall we
go Luke?"
Luke looked up at her across the table, saying quickly, "I'm afraid we
can't very well manage a holiday this year."
"What! Not have a holiday!" Consternation was in the tone of voice.
"You see," said Luke, "our balance at the bank is rather lower than
usual. I can't see how we can afford it."
Rachel dropped her knife and looked at her husband.
"Can you account for it?" she asked faintly.
"I am afraid I can. Since the war every article of food has risen in
price."
"Then it's in the housekeeping?"
"Yes, it's in the housekeeping."
"Are we spending more than when you lived with your mother?" Luke's
eyes were on his plate.
"My dear I don't think we gain much by probing into matters," he said
evasively.
"But I want to know the truth," said Rachel persistently. "Is my
housekeeping more extravagant than your mother's?"
"Well as you ask me, I am afraid it is," he said uncomfortably. "But I
know you can't possibly help it."
Rachel was silent. Then she said, pushing her plate away from her, as
she felt she could not eat another mouthful, "I can't think how we
could live more economically."
Luke said nothing. A large electric light bill had come by post that
morning. He did not remember ever having had such a big bill to pay.
"Talk it over with my mother," he said, as he rose from the table.
"No, I don't want to talk it over with her or with anyone, but you,"
said Rachel. "We must see ourselves what can be done. Is it in the
food? But then Luke, you know, you must have nourishing things. Your
mother has always impressed that upon me."
"It is not only the food. Look at this," He spread the bill before her.
"Well that is one thing in which we can economise," said Rachel. She
would not let him know how much the largeness of the bill appalled her.
"I have sometimes left the hall light on when you have been out late,
in fact ever since that curious beggar man came one day; you remember
about him. It has felt more cheerful to have the light after Polly has
gone to bed. But that can easily be altered. Then I daresay the coal
bill is rather large. Perhaps another winter we had better only have
the kitchen fire in the mornings; but I don't like to think of you
going out to work cold."
"I don't feel the cold," said Luke. "We certainly must make a
difference somehow. Discuss it with mother and see if she can't help.
She knows we are rather in low water."
"I don't see how we can give away so much as you do Luke," said Rachel.
"We really could not afford that £5 that you gave for the heating of
the Church for instance."
Luke looked worried.
"I have always somehow managed to do my part in that way," he said. "I
can't bear not setting an example in giving."
"No, it's horrid," said Rachel. And yet she felt strongly, that if by
giving away money he was deprived of his much needed yearly holiday the
work itself would suffer.
After he had gone, the subject that had caused their talk and had
brought to light their poverty forced itself again upon her.
No holiday! All the summer in this tiny stuffy little house away from
the flowers and the breezy wind. How could she bear it herself, and
still more how could Luke go on working all day and the greater part of
the evening in the terrible heat, which was making her feel giddy and
faint already.
She hurried into the drawing-room which was without sun and threw the
window open. Then she looked for her weekly bill books and sat down to
examine them. She saw they were higher than she supposed they ought
to be, but she did not see how she could economise with a man in the
house. If it were only herself and Polly they could do on less; but
Luke, though he might not notice that he was having less would soon
reap the consequence and feel limp.
Rachel leant her arms on the bureau and her chin on the palms of her
hands and gazed out Of the window. How could they manage to get away
for a week if no longer?
Unfortunately Heatherland was impossible.
Her mother found herself so impoverished that she was selling her house
and was on the point of going into a much smaller one in the village.
Rachel had felt very sad when Sybil had written to tell her the news.
That her mother, at her age, should have to uproot again would be a
real trial; evidently her family were in financial difficulties too.
Rachel began to think over her belongings and wondered if she could not
sell some of her wedding presents. There was the pearl necklace that an
uncle who was dead had given her. It was of little use to her now, and
in her present mood she felt that a breath of sea air would compensate
for the loss of any number of pearls.
Yes, she would certainly sell her pearls. She wondered if the day would
come when she would be reduced to selling many of her possessions. It
looked like it. It was a terrible shame that livings should be so small
that the very necessities of life should have to be done without. Well
anyhow she would sell her pearls and not tell Luke till it was done.
She would get a cousin of hers to do the transaction for her. She knew
she might be cheated and it would be no good for Luke to try and sell
them. He was no business man and would without doubt be contented with
half their value. No, she would write to her cousin. They simply must
go away somewhere this summer.
She wrote the letter to her cousin and got Polly to run round to the
post with it. Then she began to wonder if she ought not to do what Luke
had suggested; ask the advice of Mrs. Greville. But she was saved the
trouble, for late in the morning her mother-in-law came round to see
her.
"Luke tells me you are rather worried about the expenses," she said,
"and I am wondering if I can help you. Shall I look through your books
and see what you could do without?" and as she saw Rachel flush she
added, "It is not at all surprising my dear. Of course you have never
been used to economise. I hope you don't me an interfering old woman,"
she added kindly, as she saw signs of distress on Rachel's face.
"It's very good of you," said Rachel; but she bit her lip feeling
humiliated in the extreme.
Mrs. Greville was not long in discovering things which would have to
be done without. For instance, she explained to Rachel she could make
quite nice puddings without eggs. Considering the expense of eggs,
4d each, it was ruinous to follow the cookery books which prescribed
more than one in quite simple puddings. A great deal of money had been
thrown away on unnecessary eggs and they mounted up at once. Then it
was much better in these days to have margarine rather than butter. She
never used anything but margarine herself, and really you would not
know the difference.
Rachel sat by her side smiling. Not being a housekeeper all these
economies seemed so paltry to her, and yet she knew they were
necessary. She had of her own will married a poor clergyman, and must
bear the consequences. And Mrs. Greville was being very kind; and
giving as little pain as possible. Her feelings towards Rachel had
somewhat changed since that Sunday on which she had gathered the girls'
choir together. It had struck her mother-in-law as a sporting action
on her part and had pleased her. And now, for the sake of her son, she
was very anxious not to hurt his wife's sensitive spirit more than
necessary, but she had no idea how galling the whole thing was to her
pride.
And Rachel was bent on her not guessing it. So she sat by her side
smiling, and watching her mother-in-law making notes for her as to the
things that were really necessary to have and those which were mere
luxuries.
"I fear you must give up all luxuries, I hope Luke told you how poor
he is, when he asked you to share his poverty with him?" she said
laughing. Rachel joined in the laugh.
"We had much more interesting things to talk about," she answered.
"Luke's mind does not run on such matters as eggs and margarine."
"That's true," said Mrs. Greville. "The fact is, that some of the
poorest people are the clergy. It ought not to be so. They should not
have to worry about eggs and margarine as you say, they have so much
more important things to think of and they should be spared that.
Besides they are expected to help in every bit of work that goes on in
the parish. Unless they have property of their own the worry of pounds,
shillings, and pence, weighs them down. Happily, as you say, Luke does
not worry himself about those kind of things, but then he has a wife
and mother to worry for him. If he had not he would have less time and
strength to think of his people. I don't suppose many realise how the
clergy suffer from poverty, for they suffer in silence."
"Well I hope Luke won't ever be reduced to wearing a coat green from
age, as a poor man in our part of the world at home has to do. Not
that I suppose Luke would notice if his coat were all colours of the
rainbow."
Mrs. Greville laughed, and said goodbye while at the door she turned
back to say:
"Remember, not so many eggs, and margarine instead of butter. You'll
find that makes a difference very soon."
[Illustration]