The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1891-10-17
toned with violets and datfodils. :,

toned with violets and datfodils: :
geous balls Of hydrangea and chrys;sa
themum filed the fireplaces, and invi.I
bly, hung against screens of smilax va.
o wainscoting Of orchids extending
through the drawing room and lib1ry.
The alcove off the music room had
been turned into nuptial bower. An
; umbrella of white buds rooted the in
closure, the walls were tapestried with
pink roses, and just within the floral
gates stood prie-dieu of carved ivory
and golden satin, where Henry Henshall
would kneel with his bride to receive
the nuptial benediction.
| Up in one of the sumptuously appoint
ed guest chambers sat the painter in the
attitude Of a penitent, desolate as a
lighthouse, for he had locked the door
and given orders not to be disturbed.
The marriage was set for o'clock. and
the neighborhood abounded in belfry
clocks. He had his gloves on and the
ring in his pocket and he was listening
, for the knell.
! "Confound it, any way. Why should
care?' he muttered, rising abruptly and
beginning to pace the floor. "It's the
woman in me. Men marry nurses and
housekeepers and influence every day in
the week, and I can name at least five
fellows in the club who have married for
mere social position. This thing of love
is an involuntary sort Of sensation,
any way, and as for swearing to keep it
up, it's all balderdash; for fellow can
no more hate all his life than he can
love. I'm in love with that small, brown
eyed musician, yet l wouldn't marry her
It could; but I mean to find her and
know her and use her as an ideal, if I
have to sell my immortal soul.
LENA is good, wholesome girl, am
pie in everything but imagination, ami
able and lenient, and she loves me, poor
child. with her whole soul. All, well,
the least I can do is to treat her decently!
And l wish to gracious this ordeal was
over with.
my ides in hurrying the thing was to
escape the gaping mob, and the servant
at the door told me he had counted one
hundred and twenty. 1never could I'M
derstand the whims of woman and her
aversion to quiet weddings.
"And then the nonsense of paying
tribute to her intuition! I'll swear that
haven't made love to her, and know
for certainty that haven't kissed her
three times. She thinks she loves, and
she thinks she has a heart, and she
thinks she thinks, which is equivalent
to the demonstration of an absurdity."
Lena Hartman, buxom, blonde and
warm blooded, belonged to that vast
army of women that thrives best on
neglect She loved Henry Henshall be-
cause she feared him.
He had called her silly when she at
tempted to be playful, made fun of her
theories, and referred to her as dull, in
artistic and shallow pated.
He leased her numerically, but what
hurt her was the indifference he showed
when she pouted, expecting to be
coaxed.
CoaxinS was not in the painters tao
tics. He could have soothed her with a
hand clasp if he cared to do so, but he
didn't. and by ignoring her moods he
deified himself to ''whistle-and-1ll-
come-to-you' state of importance.
Inadvertently Henry was training his !
wife for future success. Women are as
easily spoiled as children, and once in
dulgcd they Irvine a man about their
fingers or play doormat with him, as the
humor suits.
It's the stinting Of grain and grass
that gives the thoroughbred beauty and
go; and just in proportion to the check
ing and stinting Of his affection will a
man hold and enslave the woman who 10
in love with him. The velvet glove is
very soothing to the touch, but woman
wants to know that there's an iron grin
under it.
Henry Henshall counted the belfrv
strokes and waited for the resembling
tones to die away before unlocking the
door.
In the hall, ON his way to the bridal
chamber, he met Banker Hartman 20
ing to signal the leader of the orchestra
Tor the march.
"Ah, old man; glad to see you! How
Ire your knees? Shall l get you drink
If something's
mo. thank you; I'm all right. Where's
Lena?"
"Dear Henry, how do look? Is my
'eil on straight? I'm awfully nervous.
Are your
The pale faced bridegroom was spared
he effort of response by burst of mel
'dy that came from the fifty strings
hidden away in some place overhead,
md Offering his arm to the goddess in
attn and pearled tulle he led her down
he broad staircase, along the rose trel-
Used hall, through the orchid scented
-