Gaining no satisfaction from him, Mrs. Livingstone turned her battery upon poor Mabel, treating her with shameful neglect, intimating that she was in the way; that the house was full, and that she never supposed John was going to settle down at home for her to support; he was big enough to look after himself, and if he chose to marry a wife who had nothing, why let them go to work, as other folks did.
Mabel listened in perfect amazement, never dreaming what was meant, for John Jr. had carefully kept from her a knowledge of her loss, requesting his mother to do the same in such decided terms, that, hint as strongly as she pleased, she dared not tell the whole, for fear of the storm which was sure to follow. All this was not, of course, calculated to add to Mabel’s comfort, and day by day she grew more and more unhappy, generously keeping to herself, however, the treatment which she received from Mrs. Livingstone.
“He will only dislike me the more if I complain to him of his mother,” thought she, so the secret was kept, though she could not always repress the tears which would start when she thought how wretched she was.
We believe we have said elsewhere, that if there was anything particularly annoying to John Jr., it was a sick or crying woman, and now, when he so often found Mabel indisposed or weeping, he grew more morose and fault-finding, sometimes wantonly accusing her of trying to provoke him, when, in fact, she had used every means in her power to conciliate him. Again, conscience-smitten, he would lay her aching head upon his bosom, and tenderly bathing her throbbing temples, would soothe her into a quiet sleep, from which she always awoke refreshed, and in her heart forgiving him for all he had made her suffer. At such times, John would resolve never again to treat her unkindly, but alas! his resolutions were too easily broken. Had he married Nellie, a more faithful, affectionate husband there could not have been. But now it was different. A withering blight had fallen upon his earthly prospects, and forgetting that he alone was to blame, he unjustly laid the fault upon his innocent wife, who, as far as she was able, loved him as deeply as Nellie herself could have done.
One morning about the first of September, John Jr. received a note, informing him that several of his young associates were going on a three days’ hunting excursion, in which they wished him to join. In the large easy-chair, just before him, sat Mabel, her head supported by pillows and saturated with camphor, while around her eyes were the dark rings which usually accompanied her headaches. Involuntarily John Jr. glanced toward her. Had it been Nellie, all the pleasures of the world could not have induced him to leave her, but Mabel was altogether another person, and more for the sake of seeing what she would say, than from any real intention of going, he read the note aloud; then carelessly throwing it aside, he said, “Ah, yes, I’ll go. It’ll be rare fun camping out these moonlight nights.”
Much as she feared him, Mabel could not bear to have him out of her sight, and now, at the first intimation of his leaving her, her lip began to tremble, while tears filled her eyes and dropped upon her cheeks. This was enough, and mentally styling her “a perfect cry baby,” he resolved to go at all hazards.
“I don’t think you ought to leave Mabel, she feels so badly,” said Anna, who was present.
“I want to know if little Anna’s got so she can dictate me, too,” answered John, imitating her voice, and adding, that “he reckoned Mabel would get over her bad feelings quite as well without him as with him.”
More for the sake of opposition than because she really cared, Carrie, too, chimed in, saying that “he was a pretty specimen of a three months’ husband,” and asking “how he ever expected to answer for all of Mabel’s tears and headaches.”
“Hang her tears and headaches,” said he, beginning to grow angry. “She can get one up to order any time, and for my part, I am getting heartily tired of the sound of aches and pains.”