A Reconstructed Marriage

by Amelia E. Barr

"Do you think I believe that romancing about Lord Thurson? I am not such a born idiot. You cannot persuade me, that two men in the world wanted to marry Dora Newton. Hout, tout! Men are feckless enough, but not that crazy."

Such conversations as this occurred usually in the library after dinner where Mrs. Campbell now made a point of visiting her son. For this end, she had conquered her dislike both of the room and his tobacco, and there she carried all the small gossip and worries of the household. And Robert soon began to enjoy this visit, and the tale-bearing suspicions and arguments that enlivened it. It pleased him to feel that he knew all that was going on in the house, and he also liked to know whether Theodora had been out or not, whether she had dressed for calling or walking, and, if she had not left the house, how she had been occupied, what callers she had had, and how many letters she had received. He was not even averse to knowing the post-office stamps of these letters.

And when men indulge this petty weakness, they soon learn to enjoy its humbling cruelties and its mean triumphs, hardly considering that under such a disintegrating process all domestic happiness crumbles inwardly away. Thus Robert grew indifferent to the woman he so pitilessly analyzed, and fell gradually into the godless, thankless quiescence of getting used to happiness. It was then easy to regard what had once been a miraculous blessing as a thing monotonous and commonplace.

With Theodora, he had now little companionship. He had ceased to consult her about anything, they neither wept nor rejoiced together, they did not even quarrel, and no legal bill of divorce could have more effectually separated them than did this moral divorce, in which there was neither disputing nor forgiveness. But though Theodora consented to this evil condition outwardly, as a form of sacrifice for David's sake, inwardly she knew it to be overcome. She bore it cheerfully, despised its power, and ignored as much as possible its presence.

Had she been left to herself she must have broken down under the unceasing tension, but constantly visited by the not herself, she lifted up her head, and when urged too fiercely, walked her lonely room with God, and dared to tell Him all the sorrow in her heart. Her disappointment had been dreadful, but God's pity had touched the great mistake, and she was now waiting as patiently and cheerfully as possible for the finality sure to come.

So far she had hid her wrongs and her disillusions in her heart; not even to her parents had she complained. The heart-breaking cruelties from which she suffered were not recognized by the law, and they were screened from the world by the closed doors of domestic life. So she had bowed both her heart and her head, and was dumb to every one but her Maker. He alone knew her in those days of utter desolation, when her wronged and wounded soul retired from all earthly affections to that Eternal Love always waiting our hour of need.

At this time it was the once snubbed and depressed Christina who dominated Traquair House. From her first interview with Theodora, she had resolved to become like her. With patient zeal she had studied and acquired whatever Theodora had recommended. And quickly divining the bent of her intellectual faculties, Theodora had educated that bent to perfection. The correct technique of the piano was already known to Christina, but Theodora directed it into its proper channel of expression, and showed her how to put a soul into her playing and singing. She found for her the most delicate and humorous portions of literature, and taught her how to recite them. She made her free of all the secrets of beautiful dressing, and urged her to do justice to her person; until very gradually the commonplace Christina had flowered into an attractive woman.

In the third year of Theodora's married life Christina had begun to dress herself with a rich and almost fastidious elegance, and, as frequently happens, she put on with her fine clothing a certain amount of genius and authority. No one snubbed her now, for she had made a distinct place for herself in the special set the Traquair Campbells affected—the rich religious set—and her definite and agreeable accomplishments caused her to be eagerly sought for every entertainment in that set. She had begun to have admirers, flowers were sent to her and gentlemen called upon her, and she received invitations from them to concerts, lectures, and such national and therefore correct plays, as Rob Roy and Macbeth. This social admiration developed her self-appreciation and self-reliance to a wonderful extent. She was no longer afraid of any member of her family, and they were secretly very proud of her.

Mrs. Campbell talked of her daughter's social triumphs constantly. "Your sister is the belle of every occasion, Robert," she said to her son. "She has as many as five and six callers every day; she has been named in the papers as 'the lovely and accomplished Miss Christina Campbell'; she has numerous lovers to tak' her choice o', and tell me, my lad, whaur's your Theodora now!" She tossed her head triumphantly to the scornful laugh with which she asked the question.

"Mother, you know that Dora has made Christina all she is. Be honest, and confess that."