Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-06-29

iedreu lnaC SORT OF suppressed dlScontent
was taking possession of his wife. She
was quieter at times, almost sad, and less
given to laughter than in their old bright
days. as he had got to calling them. He
had hoped everything oi her love and de-
votion-hoped that he might ever remain
as near and dear, as much ''all the world'
to her as she had often declared him to be.
And now this had come OF it; this dread
lul quarrel. She had spoken her mind.
His heart was aching with reproaches;
but generous ever, he excused her to him.
self as he walked along to the woods. 1t
was asking too much OF mortal woman, he
argued anxious to make himself wretched,
to tear her far away from home, and
friends. and all the delights OF well-regu-
lated New England life, and to expect her
to be always glad, and bouyant. and brave.
and hopeful. keeping his own soul up with
the wlne-like tonic of her blthe spirits.
1t was the same old beginning OF the
end, mere question of time. Eventual
y she would become the Indifferent, mat
ter of-fact sort OF woman that most wives
appeared to be- regarding him-the low
er-as kind of mild, inevitable evil, nee
essary to her support, and respectable to
have about the house. Sooner or later,
he supposed, all husbands and wives
awoke from their dream of love, to the
long dreary reality of making the best Of
things. Nevertheless, her fierce outburst
ON this particular morning took him by
surprise somewhat aroused his indigna-
tion. Had it not been her free choice to
enter on this 'villainous' housekeeping
Had he not warned her freely and fully
that her days, it she came with him, would
bp vyfb h,t n b,,I <,f
lite harder for him, inexpressibly harder
than it had ever been, totally different
thing altogether; but he bore on perse-
verlngly and untiringIy, looking to the
end i'll view, and making matters light for
her sake. Suppose-suppose-a flush
dyed the young mans patient face as the
thought occurred to him; suppose she re-
fused to stay here and went home to her
friends?
Meanwhile Mrs Hardy stood by the
mantlepiece, horribly miserable-more
miserable than she had ever dreamed of
being in any of the loye-quarrels that
had tlickered their courtship. There
seemed to be no making up" in this sort
of a thing; there was no light in it; it
was unmitigated, hopeless wretchedness.
For Mrs. Jane Hardy, her passion over,
ance. He did not love her any more he
could not; or he never would have said
harsh things to her; and this was the end
OF it all
80 call me Jane ~ she exclaimed
aloud, as if the word "Jane" contained
all ferns of vituperation. Nobody has
been cruel enough to call me that in all
my life"' turning to the breakfast dishes
nIfb hrov alx,a oh 49,
young lady, who had been a pet at home,
had never been called by her husband,
or anybody else, by harder name than
Jenny.
Work is so good thing! Auerbach
says it should have been the first COM
mandment: Thou shalt work!' Jenny
was too unfamiliar with heart-torture to
be conscious of how good her work was;
but she could not but be aware, as
as the morning passed away, that some
thing was driving the clouds out cf her
sky. Roland could not despise her all at
once, she was sure. She would gather
up the remnant of his love, and guard
and noursh it so tenderly that like her
poor Larmarbue rose, it must still lift it.
self to the sun again, and some time
blossom into a little beauty of sweetness,
in so many noble, and heroic ways, prove
TO him-but no; how could she do that ?
there was nothing noble or heroic to do.
Women's lives-ordinary woman's lives,
like hers-had no heroic chances. She
could only keep his house in nice order,
cook his favorite dishes, watch over his
shirt buttons, forget the old days of ease
when she was listless young lady, and
again. 1t was all dreadfully common
place, and of no account, but she had en-
braced this lot of her own free will, and
out of her deep love for him, and it was
the only way by which she could climb to
the heights of his regard again.
AS for his old romantic love tor her, his
tender chivalrous devotion, that could
never come back; she wasn't worth it.
And so. accepting the dust of humiliation
and like genuine woman, having no
mercy on herself, she went through the
household duties, thinking all the time
how dear to her were husband and home.
and how she would strive to make herself
please God, to them.
1t was decidedly pleasant log cabin.
Log cabins are always pleasant when an
apt housekeeper presides over them, and
enough OI tHe WOrlu y lUcre can De affOrd-
ed to cover the walls with tasteful paper,
and the floor with comfortable carpets.
Those rude logs, of which we read,
with their thatched roof, clay floors. and
chmneys built of sticks, are far more en-
durable on canvas and in the rhymes of
young poets. than in actual life, where
they mean simply rheumatism and insects
This house was different; it was a spa
cious, comfortable. well furnished place;
and only called log cabin after the Gus
tom of the country.
A staunch roof; substantial walls, Or
namental within carpets, books, pictures,
a rare clock, easy chairs; everything for
comfort met the eye. The sleeping rooms
above gave evidence of ingenious and
tasteful powers brought to bear upon their
building and furnishing. Charming ex-
pedients, graceful rustic ornamentations,
pretty and useful things that cost little
made the cabin seem very much of CO.
sy mansion in small way. In the midst
OF an almost savage wilderness, Roland
Hardy had erected his dwelling with a
view rather to future exigencies than