NOT SATISFIED.
129
“Oh, come now, don’t give up after that fashion What makes her feel so bad today?” and he seated himself on an ottoman, and pulled the lady on his knee just as one might a vexed child.
“Nothing particular as I know of. Don’t disturb yourself about me, Hugh.”
“Well, I’re got some news for you that’ll drive tbe blues into next week, at least. Guess what it is, pet.”
“I can’t, Hugh. I never was good at guessing.
“Now don’t tell me that, you dear, little Yankee: there never was anything in the world at which you weren’t good, if you’d only a mind to be.”
“Thank you for the compliment. Now do tell me what it is, Hugh?” with a faint show of interest.
“I've been buying a certain naughty little girl, tbe finest little Oregon pony to be found in the state. She is a perfect beauty, black as night, and graceful as a young fawn. Oh, my love, I long to see you on her.”
The lady’s brow brightened. “ Hugh, you are a good souL How much I shall think of that pony!”
“Yes, and tomorrow afternoon, if it’s pleasant, you and I are to have our first ride. I’ve bought you a new cap, with plumes, to match your riding-habit, and it will be sent home tonight.”
“Goody! goody!” She clapped her white hands with a momentary effervescence of delight. “Won’t I be glad to let Mrs. Wilson see me! Our riding-master says I am a better equestrian than she is now.”
“To be sure you are, my dear. You look much finer on horseback than she ever pretended to.”
“Not in her husband’s eyes, I presume; there, Hugh, don’t lean your arm so heavily on my shoulder. I wonder if you think I’m made of iron or wood, or some other insentient material?”
“No, my dear, I think you’re made of the daintiest flesh and blood that ever was put into one of Eve’s daughter’s! But, my dear, have you marked my handkerchiefs this morning? Yon know you promised.”
“So I did, but I forgot all about it. I wish you would hire them done, Hugh. Every few months you get a new dozen, and then I’m bothered about the marking.”
“Oh, no, daisy, I don’t wear out more than two dozen handkerchiefs a year, and I do like to see your handwriting on them, it’s such a dainty little hand.”
“Well, betwixt my calls, and headache, and music, I haven’t had any time to attend to them this week. Perhaps I can next. If I don’t, I’ll put the seamstress at it.”
Just then the bell rang for dinner, and the husband and wife went downstairs together; and though Mrs. Nichols ill-humor was half dissipated by the thought of the beautiful pony her husband had promised her, the pleasure was greatly neutralized by the thought that Ruel l Wylie was such a fine horseman, and that her n husband, instead of that gentleman, would ride out with her tomorrow.
“It is a plain gold ring, Rosaline, and you
will wear it for the sake of old times, I am sure.”
They sat together in the drawing-room, Ruel and Rosaline Nichols, that October afternoon, whose wondrous mellow beauty was the latest miracle of the year. The earth lay still and glorified under her banners of mist and her pillars of sunlight. There was no stir among the forest leaves that afternoon, a gift sent and sanctified of God to the earth, over whose face seemed, for a moment, to slumber the curse that once woke up the echoes of the Eden, “Cursed is the ground for thy sake.”
“No, Mr. Wylie, I do not think my husband would be willing I should receive and wear such a gift from any gentleman, so you will accept my thanks for it, and excuse me for refusing it for his sake,” and with true wifely dignity, Mrs. s Nichols put back the ring in the gentleman’s hand; when there pleaded for its acceptance a very tender voice in the depths of her own heart,
“Ah, Rosaline, I had once hoped to place another ring there, and-”
“Hush, hush,” interrupted the young wife, and there was a tremor of fear in her voice, and a flush half of indignation, half of some other feeling in her cheek. “Whatever we were then, you know I am now the wife of Mr. Nichols, and as such I can never hear any allusions to the past. You must never forget this, Mr. Wylie, as surely as I never shall.”
Ruel Wylie rose up with a sigh. He looked down with a feeling of new veneration on his beautiful hostess, and man of the world as he was, and irresistible as he deemed himself to all women, he felt that here he could go no further, that whatever feelings Mrs. Nichols might still entertain for the love of her youth, they would be buried in her own soul; that she would be true, even in word, to the husband of her election, iAnd to the honor, the everlasting honor of s Rosaline Nichols, be these words written; one great temptation was placed before her, and she resisted it
