Was It Right to Forgive? by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (classic book list txt) 📕

if you have patience and forgiveness, your hour will come."

Thus the first eighteen months of her married life had passed not unhappily away; and she lived, and loved, and hoped for the time when Harry would put from him entirely the gay, dancing, playing, flirting, immature existence, which was so unbecoming to his domestic and civil honor as a husband and a father. Indeed, he was himself beginning to be aware of the incongruity; for he said to Adriana one evening at the close of October:

"I saw Cousin Alida to-day. She is in town for the winter."

"What did she say, Harry? When is she coming here?"

"She will call to-morrow. She hoped I would not compel her to go into the gay places of the world this year. I do believe the old lady went out so much last season just to watch me, just to make me wait upon her, and so keep me out of temptation. Fancy Miss Alida as my chaperon! It was very good of her--but fruitless."

Adriana smilingly asked: "What did you say about the gay places, Harry?"

"I told her I was going to have my fling this year, and after this year you and I would settle down to a sensible career. I told her, indeed, that I intended to go into politics."

"You have a great ability for politics, Harry. Professor Snowdon says you are a natural orator. How I should like to hear you make a great political speech!"

"Well, pet, some day perhaps you may have your desire. I think of taking lessons in elocution this winter."

"Do not, Harry. Your own speech and gestures are better than acquired ones. I am sure you will make a great debater."

Harry was much pleased. He cleared his throat, and straightened himself, and quite unconsciously struck an attitude. Then he kissed his wife tenderly, and said: "If I am a little late to-night, do not mind, dear. I have to preside at a supper given to our new opera stars. I will come home as soon as I possibly can." And she smiled him out of sight, and was ready to give him the last smile when he turned at the door of the lighted hall for it. But he did not see her fly to her boy's cradle and lift the child to her breast, and with tears welling into her eyes, comfort herself with its smiles and caresses.

The season thus inaugurated proved to be one of great temptation to Harry, and of much sorrow to Adriana. Vague rumors reached her through many sources, some friendly, and others unfriendly. Miss Alida's visits were suspiciously frequent; and her manner was too protective and sympathetic, and Adriana could not help wondering after every visit what fresh wrong her cousin had come to comfort her for. But hitherto the comfort had been inferred; Miss Alida had never said one definite word against Harry, and Adriana would have disdained under any ordinary circumstances to complain of her husband.

One morning in December, however, she was compelled to listen to a positive accusation. Mrs. Henry Filmer called at a very early hour with it. There had been an apparent reconciliation between the two households; but neither on Mrs. Filmer's nor yet on Adriana's side was it very real, for Adriana had in truth some honest grievances against her mother-in-law. She made constant demands on Harry's purse, and she was still more unreasonable about his time. Often when Adriana's state of health particularly demanded a husband's sympathy and society, Harry had been compelled to leave her in order to escort his mother to some dinner or opera party. "Your father is so busy, and inefficient in company, so, dearest Harry, you must give mother just one hour to-night." Such messages were very frequent, and if Adriana thought Harry only too ready to answer them, there are many desponding women who will be able to pity her. Indeed, his mother's influence over Harry was great and never used for a kindly end. Every occasion when Harry was with her was also an occasion to drop an evil thought against Harry's wife; and such a conversation as the following, varied slightly with varying circumstances, was the usual trend of their discourse:

"I suppose Adriana made a fuss about your coming to me for an hour, Harry?"

"Indeed, she did not! She is quite alone, and she let me off very cheerfully."

"Ah! she does not appreciate you as she ought to do! I grudge every minute you are not with me. I only live the few-and-far-between moments we are together."

"My dear mother!"

"I dare say that old maid has managed to put all kinds of ideas into her head about your sinfulness--and you are your old mother's dear naughty boy after all. What is this that I heard concerning pretty Cora Mitchin and Harry Filmer?"

"Hush, mother! I hope you put a stop to any such rumors. I would not have Yanna hear about Cora for the world. Yanna is not very strong lately."

"She will nurse her child, and she goes on about it as if it were the only child in the universe. People say all kinds of things about her secluding herself because she has a baby. Her behavior is a tacit reproach on every mother who condescends to do her duty to society."

"She is as foolish about little Harry as you are about me."

"She is quite incapable of feeling as I feel. She is a mere marble woman. I wish she could feel, for then she might understand what I suffer in your desertion. Oh, dear! If in anything she would act like other women! Every one pities you!--you, that have always been the very flower of courtesy and of all that is socially charming!"

"No one need pity me, mother. I consider myself the most fortunate husband in New York. And you ought not to permit people to talk in that way. It is a great wrong to me."

"I do not, Harry. You may be sure I stand up for you."

And such conversations, even if Harry did not repeat them, were divined, either from his manner or from some unguarded remark he let fall. It required all the strength of Adriana's broad character to prevent her divinations from finding a voice--to bear patiently wrongs she could not permit herself to right--and to wait with unabated love for that justification sure to come to those who leave it to the wisdom of their angels behind them.

On this December morning Mrs. Filmer's visit was unexpectedly early. She met Adriana with a worried face, and barely touching the fingers of her outstretched hand, said, "I have a letter this morning, and I think you ought to know about it, Adriana. It concerns your brother. I am sure it has been the most wretched thing for my poor Rose that she ever met the man."

"That statement would be hard to prove," answered Adriana.

"You need not draw yourself up like a tragedy queen because I feel so bitterly the mistake my daughter has made. Rose has been a miserable wife from the first day of her marriage, and there is no use in denying the fact. And if her misery has led her to unwise ways of seeking relief, she is hardly to be blamed. She says, too, that she has never had a day's health since the birth of her baby. And you know what a stern, unsympathetic man her husband is."

"I know that Antony has a heart of infinite love and forbearance. Few men would have endured what he has borne without a complaint. Rose is unreasonable, petulant, and, in fact, unmanageable. Several people who saw her last summer have told me about her caprices. They can only be accounted for on the supposition that she had been 'seeking relief.'"

"I have no doubt Antony is as bad as she is."

"Antony is absolutely temperate in all things."

"Antony is, of course, an angel."

"I think he is. Certainly he has had more than mortal patience with and love for a most ungrateful woman."

"All the Van Hoosens are angels; nevertheless, no one can live with them."

"Mr. Filmer is a Van Hoosen, and you have managed to live with him. Harry is a Van Hoosen, and I find it very delightful to live with Harry."

"Oh, I can tell you that Harry is no saint. I wish you could hear society laughing at the way he deceives you."

"There is nothing for society to laugh at; consequently you are mistaken."

"You blind woman! You poor blind woman! Everybody knows that Harry never stops with you one hour that he can help. He is devoted to that lovely Cora Mitchin."

"Madam! if you came here to insult my husband, I will not listen to you."

"I came here to enlighten the stupidest woman in New York."

"I know all I want to know; and I know nothing wrong of my husband. There is no happier wife in America than I am. I believe in Harry Filmer. It is beyond your power to shake my faith in him. Good morning, madam."

"Stop one moment. Rose is coming back. We must all, every one connected with Rose, do our best to surround her with proper influences. Miss Alida helped to make the unfortunate marriage, and I shall expect her to countenance and stand by Rose."

"You must tell her so. I am sure she will do all that she conceives to be right for her to do."

"I want you to tell her that she ought, that she must, give a party to welcome Rose back. Indeed, she could get Madame Zabriski to be the hostess if she likes, and she should do so."

"Why should she do so?"

"Madame Zabriski's favor would silence all the false and ugly reports people have brought from the other side. I look to you, Adriana, to carry this point."

"I prefer not to interfere with Madame Zabriski's entertainments."

"You owe Rose something."

"I owe Rose nothing but anger for the way she has treated my good brother. Poor Antony! My heart bleeds for him."

"Poor Rose! It is Rose that is to be pitied. But you are an immensely cruel, selfish woman! It used to be Rose here, and Rose there, until you had stolen Rose's brother. Now you will not even say a word for Rose; though a few words from you might get her into the best society."

"I do not think society is the best thing for Rose, at this time. Will you kindly excuse me? I hear the nursery bell. My son wants me."

"My son! Yes! One day some woman will take him from you."

"When that day comes, I pray God that I may have wisdom, and love, and justice enough, not to treat that woman as you have treated me."

"Harry is my son yet."

"Harry is my husband. And a man shall leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave to his wife. That is the Word of God."

"I shall tell Harry of your temper! I shall!"--but she found herself talking to an empty room, and she picked up her fallen gloves and went away.

It was evident, however, when Harry returned to his home in the evening, that she had told Harry many things that had annoyed him. He was silent, unresponsive, and had an air of injury or offence. Adriana was only too familiar with this particular mood. Her first thought