whim of the insane, replied,-"Yes! even for occasioning you an imaginary sorrow, I do, and ever shall feel the bitterest contrition, the most poignant remorse. But, if your reason has not quite deserted you, do, I implore you, explain of whom you are jealous, of whom you can be jealous?" "What!" cried Margaret, in a tone of unfeigned astonishment at what she considered this new proof of audacity; "would you have the barbarity to tax me with madness, to screen your own faithlessness; and by depriving me of reason, deprive me of the power of justice;--for who would vindicate or avenge a raving lunatic? This is too much for patience to endure. Will you deny that you carry on a secret intrigue with Maria, sir?" "Maria!-Maria who?—I do not know any one of the name, that I can immediately recollect." "What! not your correspondent of this morning?—the lady who wrote the letter you had not the courage to open before me? —Oh, you have a conveniently short memory, indeed!” "O, Margaret! Margaret! is it possible that you do really suspect me of infidelity?-How can I convince you to the contrary ?" By shewing me the letter." 66 "What! will nothing less than that satisfy you?-Suppose, by doing away with your most unfounded doubt, I plunged you, myself, and our child, into irretrievable misery and disgrace?-could you bear that?" "Yes! yes!-anything, rather than this horrible suspicion." "Oh! my dear angel wife, let me abjure you to pause; remember, there is a species of curiosity so fatal, if indulged in, as to lead to ruin and despair." "Your mysterious and sinister cautions only augment my desperate desire; the very, very worst reality cannot equal what I imagine. George! this is no common intrigue; you are involved in some terrible act of turpitude you wish to conceal. Oh, let me know what it is; be assured of my ready forgiveness,-my devoted love to aid you to repair it,-my silence, to save you from exposure. Speak! speak! I am still your wife, your true and best friend!" "Dearest! believe me, it is no intrigue, and, I trust, no crime, I claim your indulgence for, but an overwhelming misfortune; yet one I could cheerfully struggle with, were it not for you, and our infant." "Think not of me; think not of your child, he is happily too young to feel or suffer from calamity; in the shelter of his parent's arms, he must still find all the felicity necessary for him! And for me, George, do you think me such a summer butterfly, that I must fold my gaudy wings, and hide from the first cloud of adversity that dims the sunshine of our love? No: in its stern winter, will my affection only glow the warmer, to light and glad den you, when everything else is veiled in the darkness of affliction. Speak, then! test me to the utmost, you shall find your pampered, spoiled little wife, no vain boaster." "To for ever destroy any yet remaining suspicion, to make you fully and clearly comprehend my painful state of embarrassment, and to win those unfading proofs of the divine love of woman, I must revert in some slight degree to the past. "You recollect, doubtless, the shock I experienced, when the fraudulent bankruptcy of Hayward and Weston occurred; but you did not know, you could not guess, why it occasioned me such agony of mind. Now I will tell you.-When poor Andrews was on his death-bed, and I, and his old and most valued friend, Hayward, were seated by it, the latter was apparently lost in unutterable anguish, at the prospect of shortly losing one whose society he had so long enjoyed, whose friendship he so highly appreciated, and whose prompt assistance had rescued him from more than one pecuniary dilemma. "Like most men, he had delayed the arrangement of his worldly affairs, until the last and most important moment of life, the brief space from time to eternity, when nothing should interrupt the solemn shadowing forth of the grave. All was therefore hurry and confusion; and in default of a more intimate acquaintance, who had disappointed him, he implored me to become joint trustee, with Hayward, assuring me, I ran not the remotest risk, that it was merely a nominal form of law, and that my security was in the well-known wealth and respectability of the firm. "I did not oppose the wishes of the dying man, of course; and pledged myself for the amount of twenty thousand pounds, which was in the bank at that time, promising to see it duly made over to the widow and orphans, whose welfare still bound him to life and suffering. He died resigned, nay, even content, in the sweet and soothing conviction, that the beloved ones, clinging to the last to his fond and faithful heart, would never know a want. He died, satisfied in the integrity of the friend, who, kneeling there, and grasping his almost death-cold hand, swore to be a husband and father to the distracted creatures, frantically sorrowing at the dissolution of him they literally adored. "Judge my consternation, when, on the investigation of his affairs, after the failure, I discovered that the villain had actually forged the widow's signature, empowering him to sell out the whole property, and that in consequence of his not being able to obtain his certificate of bankruptcy, I was liable for the full sum. O, Margaret! never shall I forget the horror of that moment! the anxiety I have, and still endure, to keep the secret from transpiring! "It has been my constant study ever since, as far as lay in my power, without exciting suspicion, to provide for those forlorn and desolate beings. At first, my bounty was received with the deepest, the most humble gratitude, as the emanation of a benevolent heart, —I was blessed in their prayers, as their saviour, their friend, their guardian spirit, keeping at bay starvation and misery; but now, whether self-betrayed by my over-care to conceal the truth, or, some person has informed Mrs. Andrews of the claims she has on me, I know not, but that which was received as a favour, is arbitrarily demanded as a right, accompanied by dark insinuations, and inuendos, alarming in the extreme; for every hour I expect the storm-cloud to burst, which will sweep me from the face of honourable society, as the robber of the widow and the fatherless. "O, would I could learn whether she really is acquainted with the peril threatening me, or whether conscious guilt alone makes me fear it?" "Whether she is acquainted with the terrible fact, or not, is of no consequence," replied Margaret, as soon as George had finished his sad recital; "it is enough that you know it, that I know it. O George! my own George, pay the money, lose not a moment, let not the sun set again on your conscious shame and misery." "But you, Margaret! how will you submit to the privations such a sum abstracted from our annual income must necessarily entail? how will you submit to the exultation, or the affected pity of those, who have long envied you, and rejoice to see you brought down to their own level? How will you submit to the loss of those luxuries so long enjoyed as to be considered mere essential comforts, your carriage, your greenhouse ?" "And do you think, now that I know their fearful cost, that they would any longer afford me either pleasure or gratification ? that in a carriage purchased at your peace of mind, your honour, I could feel ease or enjoyment? that I should not rather feel as on the rack of torture, rending every sinew, and crushing every bone of this indolent frame? that in the flowers, not watered by the refreshing dews of heaven, but by the withering tears of the widow and orphan, I could find either fragrance for the scent, or beauty to the sight? no! no! a thousand million times, no! "And as to the sneers of the world, what are they? a phantom to alarm the weak and infirm of purpose, not to frighten the strong and determined in rectitude and uprightness. Let them talk, let them point at me, let them brand me as the thoughtless extravagant wife, who, but for his stern resolve, would have brought her husband to ruin. All, all this, and worse, is trifling, contemptible, hateful, unworthy of one serious thought, compared to your honour, your reputation, your love: you do not know me yet, George, the energies of my soul have never been elicited, the strength of my affection never roused. Hitherto, I have only been the spoiled child, the petted wife, indulged in every caprice, dress ing for your admiration, and thinking only of the preservation of that beauty it was melody to hear you extol. But was that being a wife? was that fulfilling God's design, when he created woman to be the helpmate of man? No! but now I know my duty, taught it at your expense, my blessed husband; and I declare, and call upon the saints and angels to witness the oath, that I will for the future be a wife in the fullest sense of the word, in your weal and in your woe, aiding, assisting, comforting, consoling, bearing all with patience. Even from this hour; being ready to slave, beg, starve, clothe myself in rags, and lie upon the bare floor for you, if needful; to enable you to discharge this debt, to pluck this thorn from your pillow, and the rankling one from your lacerated heart; glorying in the cross which permitted you to walk among your fellows once more, with the loftily erected head of innate honesty; defying one voice to cry shame upon you, one voice to heap execrations on your name !" 66 "My wife indeed, my friend, my saviour," exclaimed George, straining her passionately to his throbbing bosom, my noble, glorious Margaret, the money shall be paid before I again close these eyes, that I may once more sleep in peace by your dear side! "Oh! Thou;" he continued, more fervently, sinking on his knees, and drawing his unresisting wife down too, "thou who now hearest the sacrifices this precious one is about to make; for justice sake, suffer her not, in thy great mercy, to undertake more than she can accomplish; strengthen and support her, until this tempest be passed away, and under thy blessed providence, the sun of prosperity once more illumines our hearthstone. "Oh! not for myself do I crave anything; but for the wife of my bosom, the child of my heart, our first-born, I do implore thy gracious aid; O father of all good, that, when looking back on the past, when this present trial, softened and mellowed by the hand of time to a scarcely remembered regret, I may not be compelled to say, in the bitterness of unmerited poverty, that, 'He that is surety for a stranger, shall smart for it !"" "Fear not for us," said Margaret, in a subdued tone, folding him in her arms; "remember the holy assurances of the divine psalmist, and let them inspire you with fortitude and hope, 'I have been young and now am old: yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.' SONG. THE BRIGHT SUNNY DAYS OF OUR YOUTH. BY MRS. CRAWFORD. We loved in the season of truth, Thou would'st sing me, those bless'd shades among? We loved in the season of truth, In the bright sunny days of our youth; In the bright sunny days. November, 1847.-VOL. L.-NO. CXCIX. |