Year: 1874

BY HARRIET PRESCOTT sPOFFoRD.


1t cannot be denied that Mrs. Rothely
loved splendor; and it cannot be denied
that Mr.. Rothely knew she did, nor that
many time and oft he had been visited
by suspicion that it was just possible he
had, some time since. been prospered in
his suit for the lady's hand by the fact that
he was able to surround her with this
splendor that she loved


This was an unnecessary humiliation on
MIR. Rothely's part, in many respects, for
he was an amiable gentleman, of educa-
tion, of family, of handsome appearance
and fine manners. with nearly all those
qualities, apparently, which are wont to
win the hearts of women-a humility that
could have been due only to an inner con-
sciousness of his unworthiness; for un-
doubtedly Mr.. Rothely loved his wife with
all his heart, such as it was, and feared
she loved his bank account because he
knew he did not deserve her love himself.
But we all have great deal more than we
deserve.


She was indeed beautiful woman, quite
worthy, one would think, of anybody's af-
fection, and eminently fit to be surround
ed with splendor that so pleased her fancy.
knowing that she was beautiful she had an
innocent sort of pleasure in enhancing her
beauty by the appliances of luxury. But
aside from that, she derived from them
different and more exquisite pleasure. the
pleasure which objects of beauty afford
the worshippers OF beauty; she loved
strong lusters and colors, with passion
ate delight in them, as she loved music in
deed, and liked to have them within reach;
to cast her eye on soft curves and pure out
lines was to have sensation of delicious
rest; to move in spacious and lofty rooms
seemed to leave her spirits free to spread
its wings unhampered by remembrance Of
cramping wants and cares; to roll in her
cushioned carriage to the clatter of the
hosts Of swift thoroughbreds was the next
this her husband knew. If her splendid
mans vanity, they gave next a satisfaction
texture and if she was pleased that her
jewels were more magnificent than Mrs.
Ewer's were, she was also pleased to have
it in her power to contemplate at any mo-
ment the wealth of luster that creations
day had been shut into those drops of con-
crete light. Mr.. Rothely knew that,
viewed as an object, he was neither 30 sat-
isfactory as the silk nor so brilliant as the
jewels, and he could not understand that
his wife could care for him and not for his
qualities; that she could love him, indeed,
in spite of his qualities and did not dream
that, the case being reversed, 1t was his
wife that he cared for, and not her quail
ties.


However, these thoughts did not occa-
sion Mr. Rothely much uneasiness, as he
was not apt to dwell on introspective mat
ters he but had them vaguely in his
keeping, ready at some day to be drawn
upon; and for the rest. he was only that,
SO long as Mrs. Rothely loved splendor,
the kind fates allowed him to give it to
her.


She became it we'll, he used to say and
when. one night, he dreamed Of seeing
the angels descending and ascending
Jacobs ladder into heaven, they every one
wore the array in which he had seen his
wife going out to Mrs. Ewer's ball; and,
rdicuously as the angels would have
looked to any one else. to him they looked
half divine; the softest peach-blow velvet
was the angelic robe, over which streamed
q foam OF the creamiest duchesse lace and
there were coronet and necklack and
bouquet de corsage ofthe great South Amer
lean emeralds, every stone a miracle of
color and light, but not of such perfect
color as that soft peach-bloom on her oval
cheek, and no such light as that in her
great brown eyes, as a fawn's. Ii did not
make him laugh, indeed, when he awoke,
to think he had clad the angel in an end
less reduplication of his wile's ball-dress;
but | am not sure that he did not in his
inmost heart think it was quite good
enough for them; and indeed he would
not have thought them angels at all if
every one had not had that same enchant-
ing smile, that same heavenly grace, that
he found so precious in Mrs. ROthely.
Mr.. Rothely would have been shocked
at himself if he had known what made him
dream of Jacobs ladder, let alone the ex-
traordinary and seraphic recurrence of
his wife's apparition there; but as he did
not worry himself much with psycholOgi-
cal science, he did not seek for any rea-
son, and never suspected that his dream
was due only to the remembrance of
stormy scene in the gold-room. Why the
remembrance of such scene should have
associated itself with ladder into heaven
rather. than into the other place nobody
thrOng that in the patriarch's sleep trod
ehS Si"he uP anu uOWu uctWecu
the earth and sky should have been sum-
moned to his fancy by the throng of raw
ening wolves. except through the law of
contrasts. But Mr.. Rothely, walking
home very late, that day, had been fear
fully detected; he had felt, in fact, as if he
were in the wilderness and alone. for his
reverses had been tremendous, and he
dared not speak of them to his wife; and
he was thinking it would be too much
bliss on earth it a man could go home and
tell his wife everything, and have SYM
pathy and comfort from her and then he
was confounding himself for sentimen-
tai fool. to be hankering after sympathy
when he wanted credit. And thereat he
had met his wife coming lightly down the
hall-stairs, a vision of rosy beauty, dark
eyes and dimpling smiles, and the peach
blow dress and the jewels; and he had
felt himself to be a presuming simpleton
to think OF sympathy and comfort from
such a radiant creature as that, and had
longed to take her in his arms, and had
feared to crush her dress. and SO had
. laA boa 81. L. L. a