Nashville patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1858-1860, 1858-09-18
L III f WIFE,S Seer Il T /:
Or, MY First and Last Novel.
PART !.

PART l.
You asked me once if 1 had ever had
secret from my husband.
Answering "Yes," promised some day TO
tell You all about it; will do so now.
When we were first married and for time
afterwards. we were poor: neither of us were
used to poverty. l was the youngest. and
had been the pet, of q large family; was
inexperienced in every way, and somewhat
spoiled by indulgence. Kenelm, my husband.
was several years older than his little wife;
he was good, grave, and wise; there was some
thing in his character that made people afraid
of him; when he courted me, my sisters held
him in awe; yet, strangely enough. |, coward
as | was in most respects, felt nothing OF this
awe till afterwards, but treated him with
girlish audacity and tyranny. l knew my
power.
must not allow myself to tell you of our
happiness during the first months after our
marriage; that has nothing to do with this
story; for then l had not the ghost of secret
: from my husband. 1t is true that / was
forced to be very quiet during the earlier part
of that day, when the scratching of Kenelms
pen was almost the only sonnd to be heard
in our house: but Unidentified myself in the
evening for the mornings silence. / dearly
loved to talk to Kenelm / used then to show
him the innermOst thought of my heart; he
was so gentle and reverent and in return
gave me his full confidence, sometimes speak
ing to me of things far beyond my compre-
hension, gladdening me by saying that often
few random words of mine would suggest
the solutions OF perplexities over which he
had long pondered!
Well, we were poor. had twenty pounds
year; for the rest we depended upon my
husbands earnings. We had married in the
spring: the following winter Kenelm fell ill,
very i'll. Necessarily his illness increased
our expenses; and /, without any regard to
cost, or any thought of whose labor must pay
for all, procured everything that l fancied
might please him or do him good. When he
was convalescent, the doctor ordered him not
to write for months to come. / understood
his smile as he listened to this decree; it smote
me with sharp sudden pain; l remember l
ran away to weep.
IL must write, my child; we are in debt, we
want money" This was all his answer to
my fearful remonstrance, when long, long
before he was strong, l saw him settle down
to work.
For the first time shrank away from his
mild glance; for the first time the deep tender
ness of his tone sounded to me as a reproach.
| went from his study into the garden. 1t
was spring; but paid no heed to the love
illness of the sunny morning. To-dayI was
too miserable to weep, for the first time in
my life perhaps. / stood, leaning my head
against tree, absorbed in self reproachful
Notwithstanding, lOr inc HfsJ Jltne, now
dreadful thing it was to want money.
| had one friend living near; she had been
Kenelm's friend for years and years, but now
she was especially mine. 1t CHANGED that she
passed our gate that morning, and seeing me.
came in a few moments.
''YOu, Minnie, of all women in the world.
to look upon this sweet day with so sad face?
What ails you. dear? Kenelm is getting we'll"
but he will be i'll again. The doctor says
L.. Il. al,
he is at work. | have been eXtravagant
we want money" She was grave imme-
diately.
Poor dear!'' she said; mo wonder you
are not merry-Oh, that money!; She softly
stroked my hand, and fell into meditative
silence.
Presently she cried. quite abruptly,
minnie, you shall write a noveln'
l started. and blushed as if she had pro-
posed to me to commit crime.
Yes" she repeated. lyon shall write a
novel. l have little leisure-nothing else,
alas!-at your service-you write, l will
manage all besides
"But-Kenelm."
Would he not like it? Ah!-pcrhaps not
I had forgotten. Good. almost perfect as
he is. he has his prcudices."
But if | could write book! If / could
earn enough money to take him to the seaside
i would risk the rest l will not be afraid;
| will try and write nOvel-only he shall
never know unless | succeed"
as it well to have. secret from your hus-
band?''
just this one. I must try. 1t would be
so glorious if / were to succeed"
you should know best. But, Minnie, /
had rather you told him"
No. no, no; not unless l succeed. What
makes you think that can write book?'
II have seen little attempts of yours-do
not husband bits, only bits. Of your letters
to Kenelm. If Mrs. Kenelm Cameron writes
her book as simply and fervently as Minnie
Grey wrote her love letters, it will do-al-
ways provided that, before she begins it, she
quite makes up her mind what it is to be
about
That is the puzzle"
at will not long remain so, if the book is
destined to be written. | am going from
home; You shall have my address; let me
help you in any way l can"
/ took leave of her absently, already pom
dering what my book was to be about.
For three days and three nights | contn-
ned to ponder this matter. When Kenelm
asked of what was thinking, l blushed, Civ
ing the stupid answer, Nothing particular"
He looked surprised, but said nothing iur-
Their.
Now. in all that follows. it may seem to you
that if had given the matter playful turn,
and my husband had trusted me as he ought
to have done, no unhappiness would have
ensued. 1t was not in my power to think of
my secret lightly-direcily | had a secret
from my husband. l turned coward, and be-
came morbidly timid in his presence. And
he-he did not suspect me of wrong doing
IL was my want of confidence towards him
that he mourned. | think | have heard
Kenelm say that it is in the natures acted
upon, not in the acts themselves, that the
elements of Tragedy and Comedy are con-
tanned. | suppose we each acted as it was
our nature to act.
When those three days and nights of medi-
tation had proved fruitless, drowned my
hopes in tears. / had found no subject of
which l felt competent to treat, no cause to
advocate, and l despaired.
A day or two afterwards an acquaintance
sent us tickets for concert; in the evening
she called for us. My husband was not well
enough to go-I hated to go without him:
pine in too quiet life. l felt very migrate
full towards the friend who carried me off, so
sorely against my will.
IL was IA classical concert of Instrumental
music; Low, such music. Yet by-and-by |
found that l was not listening TO il. / was
writing--nay rather contempiating-my
book 1t did not suggest itself to me bit by
bit but seemed to grasp it all-plot, pur
pose, incidental once. l literally Rugged
myself under cover of my little white cloak,
and said, This will do"
Exquisite. is il notg" my companion ex-
claimed, thinking | had spoken to her in
praise of the music.
Now / was only anxious to get home
dreaded that l might forget Fortunately
my friend was sleepy during the drive-the
rapid motion continued the excitement the