He Fell In Love With His Wife by Edward Payson Roe (best books to read for students TXT) đ
- Author: Edward Payson Roe
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At times, during these lonely and stormy March days, he would dismiss his
anxious speculations in regard to his future course. He was so morbid,
especially at night, that he felt that his wife could revisit the quiet house.
He cherished the hope that she could see him and hear what he said, and he
spoke in her viewless presence with a freedom and fullness that was unlike his
old reticence and habit of repression. He wondered that he had not said more
endearing words and given her stronger assurance of how much she was to him.
Late at night, he would start out of a long reverie, take a candle, and, going
through the house, would touch what she had touched, and look long and fixedly
at things associated with her. Her gowns still hung in the closet, just as
she had left them; he would take them out and recall the well-remembered
scenes and occasions when they were worn. At such times, she almost seemed
beside him, and he had a consciousness of companionship which soothed his
perturbed spirit. He felt that she appreciated such loving remembrance,
although unable to express her approval. He did not know it, but his nature
was being softened, deepened, and enriched by these deep and unwonted
experiences; the hard materiality of his life was passing away, rendering him
capable of something better than he had ever known.
In the morning all the old, prosaic problems of his life would return, with
their hard, practical insistence, and he knew that he must decide upon
something very soon. His lonely vigils and days of quiet had brought him to
the conclusion that he could not hunt up a wife as a matter of business. He
would rather face the âever angry bearsâ than breathe the subject of matrimony
to any woman that he could ever imagine himself marrying. He was therefore
steadily drifting toward the necessity of selling everything and going away.
This event, however, was like a coral reef to a sailor, with no land in view
beyond it. The only thing which seemed certain was the general breaking up of
all that had hitherto made his life.
The offer of help came from an unexpected source. One morning Holcroft
received a call from a neighbor who had never before shown any interest in his
affairs. On this occasion, however, Mr. Weeks began to display so much
solicitude that the farmer was not only surprised, but also a little
distrustful. Nothing in his previous knowledge of the man had prepared the
way for such very kindly intervention.
After some general references to the past, Mr. Weeks continued, âIâve been
saying to our folks that it was too bad to let you worry on alone without more
neighborly help. You ought either to get married or have some thoroughly
respectable and well-known middle-aged woman keep house for you. That would
stop all talk, and thereâs been a heap of it, I can tell you. Of course, I
and my folks donât believe anythingâs been wrong.â
âBelieving that something was wrong is about all the attention my neighbors
have given me, as far as I can see,â Holcroft remarked bitterly.
âWell, you see, Holcroft, youâve kept yourself so inside your shell that
people donât know what to believe. Now, the thing to do is to change all
that. I know how hard it is for a man, placed as you be, to get decent help.
My wife was a-wondering about it the other day, and I shut her up mighty
sudden by saying, âYouâre a good manager, and know all the country side, yet
how often youâre a-complaining that you canât get a girl thatâs worth her salt
to help in haying and other busy times when we have to board a lot of men.â
Well, I wonât beat around the bush any more. Iâve come to act the part of a
good neighbor. Thereâs no use of youâre trying to get along with such
haphazard help as you can pick up here and in town. You want a respectable
woman for housekeeper, and then have a cheap, common sort of a girl to work
under her. Now, I know of just such a woman, and itâs not unlikely sheâd be
persuaded to take entire charge of your house and dairy. My wifeâs cousin,
Mrs. Mumpsonââ At the mention of this name Holcroft gave a slight start,
feeling something like a cold chill run down his back.
Mr. Weeks was a little disconcerted but resumed, âI believe she called on your
wife once?â
âYes,â the farmer replied laconically. âI was away and did not see her.â
âWell, now,â pursued Mr. Weeks, âsheâs a good soul. She has her little
peculiarities; so have you and me, a lot of âem; but sheâs thoroughly
respectable, and there isnât a man or woman in the town that would think of
saying a word against her. She has only one child, a nice, quiet little girl
whoâd be company for her mother and make everything look right, you know.â
âI donât see what thereâs been to look wrong,â growled the farmer.
âNothing to me and my folks, of course, or I wouldnât suggest the idea of a
relation of my wife coming to live with you. But you see people will talk
unless you stop their mouths so theyâll feel like fools in doing it. I know
yours has been a mighty awkward case, and hereâs a plain way out of it. You
can set yourself right and have everything looked after as it ought to be, in
twenty-four hours. Weâve talked to Cynthyâthatâs Mrs. Mumpsonâand she takes
a sight of interest. Sheâd do well by you and straighten things out, and you
might do a plaguey sight worse than give her the right to take care of your
indoor affairs for life.â
âI donât expect to marry again,â said Holcroft curtly.
âOh, well! Many a man and woman has said that and believed it, too, at the
time. Iâm not saying that my wifeâs cousin is inclined that way herself.
Like enough, she isnât at all, but then, the right kind of persuading does
change womenâs minds sometimes, eh? Mrs. Mumpson is kinder alone in the
world, like yourself, and if she was sure of a good home and a kind husband
thereâs no telling what good luck might happen to you. But thereâll be plenty
of time for considering all that on both sides. You canât live like a
hermit.â
âI was thinking of selling out and leaving these parts,â Holcroft interrupted.
âNow look here, neighbor, you know as well as I do that in these times you
couldnât give away the place. Whatâs the use of such foolishness? The thing
to do is to keep the farm and get a good living out of it. Youâve got down in
the dumps and canât see whatâs sensible and to your own advantage.â
Holcroft was thinking deeply, and he turned his eyes wistfully to the upland
slopes of his farm. Mr. Weeks had talked plausibly, and if all had been as he
represented, the plan would not have been a bad one. But the widower did not
yearn for the widow. He did not know much about her, but had very unfavorable
impressions. Mrs. Holcroft had not been given to speaking ill of anyone, but
she had always shaken her head with a peculiar significance when Mrs.
Mumpsonâs name was mentioned.
The widow had felt it her duty to call and counsel against the sin of
seclusion and being too much absorbed in the affairs of this world.
âYou should take an interest in everyone,â this self-appointed evangelist had
declared, and in one sense she lived up to her creed. She permitted no scrap
of information about people to escape her, and was not only versed in all the
gossip of Oakville, but also of several other localities in which she visited.
But Holcroft had little else to deter him from employing her services beyond
an unfavorable impression. She could not be so bad as Bridget Malony, and he
was almost willing to employ her again for the privilege of remaining on his
paternal acres. As to marrying the widowâa slight shudder passed through his
frame at the thought.
Slowly he began, as if almost thinking aloud, âI suppose you are right, Lemuel
Weeks, in what you say about selling the place. The Lord knows I donât want
to leave it. I was born and brought up here, and that counts with some
people. If your wifeâs cousin is willing to come and help me make a living,
for such wages as I can pay, the arrangement might be made. But I want to
look on it as a business arrangement. I have quiet ways of my own, and things
belonging to the past to think about, and Iâve got a right to think about âem.
I aint one of the marrying kind, and I donât want people to be a-considering
such notions when I donât. Iâd be kind and all that to her and her little
girl, but I should want to be left to myself as far as I could be.â
âOh, certainly,â said Mr. Weeks, mentally chuckling over the slight prospect
of such immunity, âbut you must remember that Mrs. Mumpson isnât like common
helpââ
âThatâs where the trouble will come in,â ejaculated the perplexed farmer, âbut
thereâs been trouble enough with the other sort.â
âI should say so,â Mr. Weeks remarked emphatically. âIt would be a pity if you
couldnât get along with such a respectable, conscientious woman as Mrs.
Mumpson, who comes from one of the best families in the country.â
Holcroft removed his hat and passed his hand over his brow wearily as he said,
âOh, I could get along with anyone who would do the work in a way that would
give me a chance to make a little, and then leave me to myself.â
âWell, well,â said Mr. Weeks, laughing, âyou neednât think that because Iâve
hinted at a good match for you Iâm making one for my wifeâs cousin. You may
see the day when youâll be more hot for it than she is. All Iâm, trying to do
is to help you keep your place, and live like a man ought and stop peopleâs
mouths.â
âIf I could only fill my own and live in peace, itâs all I ask. When I get to
plowing and planting again Iâll begin to take some comfort.â
These words were quoted against Holcroft, far and near. âFilling his own mouth
and making a little money are all he cares for,â was the general verdict. And
thus people are misunderstood. The farmer had never turned anyone hungry from
his door, and he would have gone to the poorhouse rather than have acted the
part of the man who misrepresented him. He had only meant to express the hope
that he might be able to fill his mouthâearn his bread, and get it from his
native soil. âPlowing and plantingââworking where he had toiled since a
childâwould be a solace in itself, and not a grudged means to a sordid end.
Mr. Weeks was a thrifty man also, and in nothing was he more economical than
in charitable views of his neighborsâ motives and conduct. He drove homeward
with the complacent feeling that he had done a shrewd, good thing for himself
and âhis folksâ at least. His wifeâs cousin was not exactly embraced in the
latter category, although he had been so active in her behalf. The fact was,
he would be at much greater pains could he attach her to Holcroft or anyone
else and so prevent further
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