132
NOT SATISFIED.
the beautiful widow; though for a year after her
husband’s death she had mourned him sincerely,
and resolved in her soul never, never to wear
any name but his!
Once, it is true, a thought of him came darkly over her new happiness that night.
“Oh, Ruel!” exclaimed the impulsive little woman, with the tears bubbling into her blue eyes, “what would Hugh say if he knew this?” And Ruel soothed and comforted her, as the living love can comfort for the dead one.
And somewhat after this fashion were the young lover’s thoughts that night, as he rode home through the still country.
“Well, I’m a happy man anyhow, this night. I shall have one of the handsomest wives in Christendom, and that’s worth a great deal to a man that values beauty as much as I do. And I always did think more of Rosaline—bless her dear, little soul! than of any other woman, and if I don’t do all 1 can to make her happy I shall be a great scamp.
“Then what a ‘snug nest’ I shall set myself into. Nichols’ estate was valued at least a hundred thousand, and that is no small consideration to a fellow that ill-fortune has dodged all her life.
“Well, anyhow, she could not have done me a greater favor, nor herself either, than to have married that Nichols; and didn’t he die just in the nick of time?
“You’re a knave, Ruel Wylie, to allow such a thought to cross your brain, but as it’s gotten in there, you may as well take a cigar on it, and console yourself that you are not marrying for interested motives, because you selected Rosaline Wayne, above all other women, when she hadn’t a dollar in the world; and now if Rosaline Nichols brings you a hundred thousand of them, you certainly have a right to rejoice over that fact.”
And taking out a cigar, and whistling a tune, Ruel Wylie saw the city spires rise in the distance, and heeded not their language nor their prayer.
After all, do not think too harshly of him, reader. He did not consider himself a selfish man, and all men .granted he was an honorable one in business. He had a good deal of impulsive kind-heartedness, and he was utterly unconscious of the vanity and selfishness that poisoned his character, for he was the only son of his mother, petted and flattered from his youth; and self-discipline and high principles of action were lessons that life had never taught him.
Two years have passed, as we look in once more upon the pair wedded for the love of their youth.
It is late breakfast time, and Mrs. Wylie sits before her silver urn, seeming in her lilac silk robe with its dainty blue linings, scarcely older than when we saw her last, and yet her face does not wear the light and joy which we might fancy for the wife of Ruel Wylie
He sits opposite, and that tasteful worsted dressing-gown is certainly most becoming to his tall, fine figure. He is busily engaged with the morning paper, and takes his cup hastily from his wife, and bows without speaking.
Two minutes later ho does speak, however, and in anything but a bland tone,
“What miserable stuff this coffee is, Rosaline! Really, it’s provoking that a man can’t have a decent breakfast.” Ruel is a great epicure, his wife has discovered this long ago.
“Well, really, not occupying the position of cook here, I don’t know that I’m responsible for the coffee, besides, you know, I shall have to drink it as well as you.”
“If you are not cook, Rosaline, I believe you are mistress, and as such I do hold you slightly responsible for the state in which our meals come up to us.”
“Well, I wish, in future, you would mako your complaints to the cook. It will save me a great deal of annoyance, and so long as I provide the table I think I do my share.”
Rosaline regretted these words had passed her lips the next moment, for she knew that nothing irritated her husband so much as any allusion to the money which she had brought him. But the thing was done. He looked up with a glare in his eyes that almost startled her, and she saw him knawing his under lip to keep down the tide of angry words that were in his heart.
But Rosaline had little to fear, and she knew it, for Ruel Wylie was a quick tempered man, but he did not bear malice long, and his anger usually disappeared with a sudden explosion.
But both husband and wife being pettish and exacting, both having been accustomed to a great deal of attention in their youth, neither, of course, understood the secret of making little sacrifices for the other.
Hence they were in a state of frequent irritability by those discords and jars, which mar all the happiness of life.
Mrs. Wylie, had she been a more judicious woman, might have preserved harmony between herself and the husband whom she loved, but her habit of petty complaining and fault-finding, was by no means likely to conciliate a man of his temperament.
