[CHAPTER I., ] [ II., ] [ III., ] [ IV., ] [ V., ] [ VI., ] [ VII., ] [ VIII., ] [ IX., ] [ X., ] [ XI., ] [ XVI., ] [ XIII., ] [ XIV., ] [ XV.]
MRS. ARTHUR.
BY
MRS. OLIPHANT,
AUTHOR OF
“The Chronicles of Carlingford,”
&c. &c.
“Fie, fie! unknit that threat’ning, unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes.
. . . . . . .
A woman mov’d is like a fountain troubled.”
TAMING OF THE SHREW.
“He breathed a sigh, and toasted Nancy!”
DIBDIN.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1877.
All rights reserved.
MRS. ARTHUR.
CHAPTER I.
ARTHUR CURTIS did not think of the letter which old Davies had given him till days after. It had been crushed up in the pocket of his coat, the sight of his sister, and all the contending emotions of the time having put it out of his head; and what could there be agreeable in such a communication at such a time? A final sermon to him upon his folly, a final admonition as to all the terrible consequences of his fault—he had, he thought, enough of these, and he had not cared to make himself miserable on his wedding-day with such a communication. It was not unmixed delight, even without that, though this was not a confession he made to himself, in words, at least. But the sight of his sister’s writing half sickened him when he saw it eventually. To be told that the course you are pursuing is ruinous, when you are entirely delighted with that course, is bad enough; but to be told so when the first shock of doubt, the first sharp suspicion of a mistake, has come into your mind, is unendurable. Arthur had not, it may be supposed, allowed to himself that this was already the state of affairs within a few days after his marriage. He was the “happiest of men;” the society of his bride was sweet to him, and her tenderness gave him an exquisite, indescribable, all-penetrating delight, notwithstanding everything. Is the sudden shock of that absolute identification of two different people, the one with the other, ever for the first moment, a happiness unmingled? It was not, at least, to Arthur. And Nancy was not one of those compliant, sweet-tempered women who swamp their own habits and ways in those of their husbands. Arthur had known these habits intimately enough; but the changed relationship brought such an entire change of aspect as was astonishing to himself. Heretofore he had been able to admire as piquant, or to laugh at as amusing, the roughnesses or simplicities of a breeding so different from his own; but suddenly an entire difference had come upon his feelings. Now that he was responsible for these peculiarities, they became alarming to him; he saw them with the eyes of other people, of his mother, his sister, of Durant even, who would wonder and be horrified to see Arthur’s wife so conducting herself. She was no longer Nancy Bates, the girl for whom he was willing to risk the world—but a part of himself, in whom his own character, his own very being, was involved. This made the strangest difference in everything. He had already felt it beginning for some time, but it was in full force from the moment which changed the tax-collector’s daughter into his wife. Thus he had felt, not amused, but irritated, when she made her appearance in that salmon-coloured “silk.” That Mrs. Bates’s daughter should wear the one fine and glistening garment she possessed to do honour to her bridegroom, and to dazzle the eyes of all beholders on her wedding-day, would there not have been in this a certain appropriateness in the midst of the inappropriateness, a sancta simplicitas which would have charmed him? But it became all at once much more apparent to Arthur that his wife ought to know better than to set out on a journey in a pink silk gown; though when he tried by all manner of deceptive arguments to beguile her into the choice of a more suitable dress, representing that the dark blue serge or dark brown merino in the shops would be warmer, more easy and comfortable, less liable to be spoiled, and every other false yet true reason for preferring it that he could think of, Nancy remained unconvinced.