"When I came to myself, the minister was bathing my face with some water he had brought from a brook near by. I roused myself, and after making several ineffectual attempts to bear my own weight, was obliged to accept his offered arm. I was vexed to have been seen in so awkward a predicament, vexed that the dread of the storm that was sure to burst on my head on my appearance with him at my aunt's, should render me incapable of even the most common-place conversation. For some reason or other, he seemed equally embarrassed with myself, and I shut myself up on reaching home, to give full vent to my mortification. From that moment I endured every species of persecution from my aunt and cousins, who, with their scheming eyes, saw in it only a well-planned stratagem, and drove me nearly distracted by speaking of it in that light to those who would be sure to report it to the party most concerned. Whether this suggested thoughts in the young minister he would not otherwise have entertained, I can not say—certain it is, that he very soon invited me to become mistress of the parsonage, and from its flowered windows, a few weeks after, with my husband's arm about me, I could smile on my parishioners, both male and female.
"Never was a wife blessed with a truer heart to rest upon—never was a wife nearer forgetting that happiness is but the exception in this world of change. What is this modern clamor about 'obedience' in the marriage relation? How easy to 'obey' when the heart can not yield enough to the loved one? Ah, the chain can not fret when it hangs so lightly! I never heard the clanking of mine. Oh, the deep, unalloyed happiness of those five short years! I look back upon it from this distance as one remembers some lovely scene in a sunny, far-off land, where earth and heaven put on such dazzling glory as dimmed the eyes forever after, making night's leaden pall denser, gloomier, for the brightness which had gone before. These are murmuring words; but Rose, if you ever loved deeply; if after drifting about alone in a stormy sea of trouble, you gained some gallant vessel, saw the port of peace in sight, and then were again shipwrecked and engulfed—but you are weak yet, dear Rose; I should not talk to you thus," said Gertrude, observing Rose's tears.
"It eases my heart sometimes to weep," was Rose's low reply. "Go on."
"I left the roof under which no sound of discord was ever heard, my child and I. The world is full of widows and orphans. One meets their sabled forms at every step. No one turns to look at them, unless perhaps some tearful one at whose hearthstone also death has been busy. And so we passed along, wondering, as thousands have done before us, as thousands will in time to come, how the sun could shine, how the birds could sing, how the flowers could bloom, and we so grief-stricken! I found the world what all find it who need it. Why weary you with a repetition of its repulses—of my humiliations, and struggles, and vigils? Years of privation and suffering passed over my head.
"Amid my ceaseless searches for employment I met a Mr. Stahle. He was a widower, with two little boys who were at that time with his first wife's relatives. He proposed marriage to me. My heart recoiled at the thought, for my husband was ever before me, I told him so, but still he urged his suit. I then told him that I feared to undertake the responsibilities of a stepmother. He replied that was the strongest argument in favor of my fitness for the office. He told me that my child should be to him dear and cherished as his own. These were the first words that moved me. For my child's sake should not I accept such a comfortable home? Often he had been sick and suffered for medicines not within my means to procure; was I not selfish in declining? I vacillated. Stahle saw his advantage, and pursued it. A promise of employment which had been held out to me that morning failed. I gave a reluctant consent. Mr. Stahle's delight was unbounded; his buoyant spirits oppressed me; his protestations of love and fidelity pained me; I shrank away from his caresses, and when, after a few days, he, fearful of a change in my resolution, urged a speedy union, I told him that the marriage must not be consummated—that my heart was in my husband's grave—that I could not love him as I saw he desired, and that our union under such circumstances could never be a happy one.
"He would listen to no argument; said I had treated him unkindly; that my promise was binding, and that I could not in honor retract it; that he did not expect me to love him as he loved me, and that if I could yield him no warmer feeling than friendship, he would rather have that than the love of any other woman. Perplexed, wearied, and desponding, I ceased to object rather than consented, while Stahle hurried the preparations for our union. Worn out in mind and body, I resigned myself as in a sort of stupor, like the wretch whom drowsiness overpowers in the midst of pathless snows. Oh, had I but then woke up to the consciousness of my own powers! But I will not anticipate.
"Mr. Stahle took a house much larger than I thought necessary, for he had only a limited salary. I begged him to expend nothing in show; that if his object were to gratify me, I cared for none of those things. He always had some reason, however, which he considered plausible, for every purchase he made; and skipped from room to room with the glee of a child in possession of a new toy, giving orders here and there for the arrangement of carpets, furniture, and curtains, occasionally referring to me. On such occasions I would answer at random, memory picturing another home, whose every nook and corner was cherished as he who had made it for me an earthly heaven!
"One morning early, Stahle came to my lodgings in great haste, saying, 'Gertrude, we must be married immediately; this very morning; see here,' and he drew from his pocket a paper, in which he read: 'Married, last night, by Rev. Dr. Briggs, Mrs. Gertrude Deane to John H. Stahle.'
"'Who could have done that?' asked I, no suspicion of the truth crossing my mind.
"'It is impossible to tell,' replied Mr. Stahle; 'at all events, there is only one course for us to pursue; here is the marriage-license—the clergyman will wait upon us in fifteen minutes. Never mind your dress,' said he, as I cast my eye down upon my sable robes—(alas! they were all too fitting)—'you always look pretty, Gertrude,' and he took my hand in his own, which trembled with agitation.