CHAPTER X.
OTHER PEOPLE’S CROSSES.
ONE could not live long in this world without realizing the forcefulness of the sentence: “Every heart knoweth his own bitterness.” Behind the sunniest, apparently most enviable life the bitterness hides. It will not be supposed that Marion Dennis’ life, which, to Ruth’s narrow vision, had blossomed into perfect coloring, was an exception to the general rule.
As she stands in her pretty dining-room, waiting for the coming of her husband, and gazes out of the window at the play of light and shade in the western sky—gazes with that far-away, thoughtful, half-sad look, which betokens that the gazer’s thoughts are not upon the picture which her eyes behold—it is plain, to the most careless glance, that a tinge of somber hue has already shaded the picture of her life. She had been through an ordeal of calls, that afternoon; not calls from intimate and congenial friends, who came because they desired the pleasure of a visit with her, but from some of those who came, as in custom bound, to pay a ceremonious visit to the new wife of their pastor. They had not been helpful callers. Without offending any of the set rules which are supposed to govern polite society, they had yet contrived to make Marion feel that they were keen-sighted, keen-scented society spies, with eyes all about them, and ears alert to hear, or to fancy what they could. Also, they had been people—some of them—who delighted in what they termed plain speaking, which is ofttimes decorous insult, if that expression is not a misnomer. There are people not quite coarse enough to express adverse criticism directly to a man’s face, and such are apt to resort to the more refined coarseness of making their criticism into the form of a joke, and aiming it at the face of his wife! With one or two such persons had Marion come in contact.
“I hope you have Dr. Dennis in good subjection,” Mrs. Easterly had said, with a peculiar little laugh that was meant to be merry, and that jarred, without one’s being able to define why. “There is nothing like beginning right, you know. I told Mr. Easterly, last evening, I was afraid you would be too lenient with him; he is positively in danger of keeping us in prayer-meeting until it is time to be thinking about the next morning’s breakfast! Mr. Easterly said, when he got him a wife, home would be more attractive to him; but my dear Mrs. Dennis, you must have observed that there was no improvement last evening.”
“I observed that he was five minutes past the hour,” Marion said; and, if Mrs. Easterly had been familiar with her voice, she would have discovered that it was haughty in the extreme. “Dr. Dennis is very particular to close promptly, and, when I questioned him, he said the people were tardy about getting in, and so delayed the opening.”
“Possible that it was only five minutes! I could have been positive it was fifteen!” Mrs. Easterly said, ignoring the explanation, and the statement about general punctuality. Such people always ignore remarks that are not easy to be answered. Then the smooth voice went on: “I think a clergyman should try to cultivate habits of punctuality about closing, as well as opening meetings, so many people are over-wearied by long drawn out exercises.”