“Did he apply to you on the subject?”
“No. I applied to him.”
“Then how could you be certain that he had any design of offering himself to her?”
“You would not have had any doubt of it had you seen him as I did; and besides, he would have denied it if it had not been so.”
“O wife! what was your inducement? He is not genteel enough for you, I suppose. Confound your genteel notions,” he continued, as, losing control of himself, he became exceedingly exasperated; “I would give all the gentility you ever had, or ever can have, for a few grains of sense or common maternal feeling. I knew you would give up health, and comfort, and good neighborhood, and your own soul, if necessary, for gentility; but I thought your child was dearer to you than your own soul.”
“Why, Mr. Rutherford, I do really think you are very unkind,” said the lady, bursting into tears.
“How the devil,” he continued, without heeding her emotion, “did you ever come to marry such an ungenteel fellow as I am, and thus establish a precedent for your daughter to follow? Go and comfort her, and say to her, ‘My dear, console yourself that I have saved you from the disgrace consequent upon such a connection as I had the misfortune to form.’ Tell her never to mind losing the chance of being made happy by a capital fellow whom she loves, and who loves her, because by-and-by, if she live long enough, she may possibly marry a money-purse, ride in a carriage, tread on Brussels carpets, and have a plenty of mirrors and glasses to see herself in, and couches to recline upon, and silver forks to eat with—who knows? Tell her it is all a mistake to suppose that happiness has anything to do with the mind or the heart; that it is all a thing of the eyes. Tell her its foundations are laid up in brick and mortar, and its superstructure is comprised of all the costly materials that can be gathered together from the four corners of the earth. Go now, quick, wife, call her down stairs, and bid her look at your best parlor—your better half—and tell her you expect she will have a whole suit of such apartments, only a great deal finer. Say to her, ‘Look at it, Caroline; gaze on it, my child, and forget the image of him who, though God’s noblest work, cannot afford to manufacture happiness for you out of cabinet-ware and upholsterers’ stuffs.’ Go, wife, and be eloquent.”
Having thus exploded, he left the house.
Poor Mrs. Rutherford had never heard her husband indulge in such a vein before. She was kind and attentive to his comfort, and his disposition led him to make the most, both to her and to himself, of whatever in her was good and commendable. She did not suspect, therefore, that there ever lurked in his bosom a feeling of contempt. It was a wretched day for the whole family.
In the evening, after Caroline bade good-night, the subject was renewed. Mr. Rutherford had thought much and deeply upon it. Had Cleaveland avowed his love, he might go to him at once, and tell him that his wife repented the step she had taken—but now, what was to be done? he could not tell.