He Fell In Love With His Wife - Edward Payson Roe (the speed reading book .txt) 📗

he only thought, “How much pleasanter it is to see at the table a

quiet, sensible woman instead of a ‘peculiar female!’” and it was not long

before he supplemented her remark by saying, “Perhaps things are turning out

for both of us better than we expected. I had made up my mind this morning to

live here like a hermit, get my own meals, and all that. I actually had the

rough draught of an auction bill in my pocket,—yes, here it is now,—and was

going to sell my cows, give up my dairy, and try to make my living in a way

that wouldn’t require any woman help. That’s what took me up to Tom

Watterly’s; I wanted him to help me put the bill in shape. He wouldn’t look

at it, and talked me right out of trying to live like Robinson Crusoe, as he

expressed it. I had been quite cheerful over my prospects; indeed, I was

almost happy in being alone again after having such terrors in the house.

But, as I said, Watterly talked all the courage and hope right out of me, and

made it clear that I couldn’t go it alone. You see, Tom and I have been

friends since we were boys together, and that’s the reason he talks so plain

to me.”

 

“He has a good, kind heart,” said Alida. “I don’t think I could have kept up

at all had it not been for his kindness.”

 

“Yes, Tom’s a rough diamond. He don’t make any pretenses, and looks upon

himself as a rather hard case, but I fancy he’s doing kind things in his rough

way half the time. Well, as we were talking, he remembered you, and he spoke

of you so feelingly and told your story with so much honest sympathy that he

awoke my sympathy. Now you know how it has all come about. You see it’s all

natural enough and simple enough, and probably it’s the best thing that could

have happened for us both. All you have to do is to get strong and well, and

then it won’t be any one-sided affair, as you’ve been too much inclined to

think. I can go on and keep my farm and home just as my heart is bent on

doing. I want you to understand everything for then your mind will be more

satisfied and at rest, and that’s half the battle in getting over sickness and

trouble like yours.”

 

“I can only thank God and you for the great change in my prospects. This

quiet and escape from strangers are just what I most craved, and I am already

beginning to hope that if I can learn to do all you wish, I shall find a

content that I never hoped for,” and the tears that stood in her eyes were

witnesses of her sincerity.

 

“Well, don’t expect to learn everything at once. Let me have my way for a

while, and then you’ll find, as you get strong, and the busy season comes on,

that I’ll be so taken up with the farm that you’ll have your own way. Won’t

you have some more steak? No? Well, you’ve enjoyed your supper a little,

haven’t you?”

 

“Yes,” she replied, smiling. “I actually felt hungry when I sat down, and the

coffee has taken away the tired, faint feeling.”

 

“I hope you’ll soon be good and hungry three times a day,” he said, laughing

pleasantly.

 

“You’ll at least let me clear the table?” she asked. “I feel so much better.”

 

“Yes, if you are sure you’re strong enough. It may make you feel more at

home. But drop everything till tomorrow when tired. I must go out and do my

night work, and it’s night work now, sure enough—”

 

“It’s too bad!” she said sympathetically.

 

“What! To go out and feed my stock this clear, bright night? And after a

hearty supper too? Such farming is fun. I feel, too, as if I wanted to go

and pat the cows all around in my gladness that I’m not going to sell them.

Now remember, let everything go till morning as soon as you feel tired.”

 

She nodded smilingly and set to work. Standing in the shadow of a hemlock, he

watched her for a few moments. Her movements were slow, as would be natural

to one who had been so reduced by illness, but this every evidence of

feebleness touched his feelings. “She is eager to begin—too eager. No

nonsense there about ‘menial tasks.’ Well, it does give one hope to see such

a woman as that in the old kitchen,” and then the hungry cattle welcomed him.

 

The traveler feels safe after the fierce Arab of the desert has broken bread

with him. It would seem that a deep principle of human nature is involved in

this act. More than the restoring power of the nourishment itself was the

moral effect for Alida of that first meal in her husband’s home. It was

another step in what he had said was essential—the forming of his

acquaintance. She had seen from the first that he was plain and

unpolished—that he had not the veneer of gentility of the man she had so

mistakenly married; yet, in his simple truth, he was inspiring a respect which

she had never felt for any man before. “What element of real courtesy has been

wanting?” she asked herself. “If this is an earnest of the future, thank God

for the real. I’ve found to my cost what a clever imitation of a man means.”

 

It was as sweet as it was strange to think that she, who had trembled at the

necessity of becoming almost a slave to unfeeling strangers, had been

compelled to rest while a husband performed tasks naturally hers. It was all

very homely, yet the significance of the act was chivalrous consideration for

her weakness; the place, the nature of the ministry could not degrade the

meaning of his action. Then, too, during the meal he had spoken natural,

kindly words which gave to their breaking of bread together the true

interpretation. Although so feeble and wary, she found a deep satisfaction in

beginning her household work. “It does make me feel more at home,” she said.

“Strange that he should have thought of it!”

 

She had finished her task and sat down again when he entered with a pail of

milk. Taking a dipper with a strainer on one side of it, he poured out a

tumblerful. “Now, take this,” he said, “I’ve always heard that milk fresh from

the cow was very strengthening. Then go and sleep till you are thoroughly

rested, and don’t think of coming down in the morning till you feel like it.

I’ll make the fire and get breakfast. You have seen how easily I can do it.

I have several more cows to milk, and so will say ‘Goodnight.’”

 

For the first time since chaos had come into her life Alida slept soundly and

refreshingly, unpursued by the fears which had haunted even her dreams. When

she awoke she expected to see the gray locks and repulsive features of the

woman who had occupied the apartment with her at the almshouse, but she was

alone in a small, strange room. Then memory gathered up the threads of the

past; but so strange, so blessed did the truth seem that she hastened to dress

and go down to the old kitchen and assure herself that her mind had not become

shattered by her troubles and was mocking her with unreal fancies. The scene

she looked upon would have soothed and reassured her even had her mind been as

disordered as she, for the moment, had been tempted to believe. There was the

same homely room which had pictured itself so deeply in her memory the evening

before. Now it was more attractive for the morning sun was shining into it,

lighting up its homely details with a wholesome, cheerful reality which made

it difficult to believe that there were tragic experiences in the world. The

wood fire in the stove crackled merrily, and the lid of the kettle was already

bobbing up and down from internal commotion.

 

As she opened the door a burst of song entered, securing her attention. She

had heard the birds before without recognizing consciousness, as is so often

true of our own condition in regard to the familiar sounds of nature. It was

now almost as if she had received another sense, so strong, sweet, and

cheering was the symphony. Robins, song-sparrows, blackbirds, seemed to have

gathered in the trees nearby, to give her a jubilant welcome; but she soon

found that the music shaded off to distant, dreamlike notes, and remembered

that it was a morning chorus of a hemisphere. This universality did not

render the melody less personally grateful. We can appreciate all that is

lovely in Nature, yet leave all for others. As she stood listening, and

inhaling the soft air, full of the delicious perfume of the grass and

expanding buds, and looking through the misty sunshine on the half-veiled

landscape, she heard Holcroft’s voice, chiding some unruly animal in the

barnyard.

 

This recalled her, and with the elasticity of returning health and hope she

set about getting breakfast.

 

“It seems to me that I never heard birds sing before,” she thought, “and their

songs this morning are almost like the music of heaven. They seem as happy

and unconscious of fear and trouble as if they were angels. Mother and I used

to talk about the Garden of Eden, but could the air have been sweeter, or the

sunshine more tempered to just the right degree of warmth and brightness than

here about my home? Oh, thank God again, again and forever, for a home like

this!” and for a few moments something of the ecstasy of one delivered from

the black thraldom of evil filled her soul. She paused now and then to listen

to the birds for only their songs seemed capable of expressing her emotion.

It was but another proof that heavenly thoughts and homely work may go on

together.

 

Chapter XXII. Getting Acquainted

 

It was still early, and Holcroft was under the impression that Alida would

sleep late after the severe fatigues of the preceding day. He therefore

continued his work at the barn sufficiently long to give his wife time for her

little surprise. She was not long in finding and laying her hands on the

simple materials for breakfast. A ham hung in the pantry and beneath it was a

great basket of eggs, while the flour barrel stood in the corner. Biscuits

were soon in the oven, eggs conjured into an omelet, and the ham cut into

delicate slices, instead of great coarse steaks.

 

Remembering Mrs. Mumpson’s failure with the coffee, she made it a trifle

strong and boiled the milk that should temper without cooling it. The

biscuits rose like her own spirits, the omelet speedily began to take on color

like her own flushed face as she busied herself about the stove.

 

Everything was nearly ready when she saw Holcroft coming toward the house with

two pails of milk. He took them to the large dairy room under the parlor and

then came briskly to the kitchen.

 

She stood, screened by the door as he entered, then stopped and stared at the

table all set and at the inviting breakfast on the stove.

 

Seeing Alida’s half-smiling, half-questioning face, seeking his approval, he

exclaimed, “Well, you HAVE stolen a march on me! I supposed you were asleep

yet.”

 

“I felt so much stronger and better when I awoke that I thought you wouldn’t

mind if I came down and made a beginning.”

 

“You call this