A Wife's Jealousy.

Otago Witness, Issue 1242, 18 September 1875, Page 20

A Wife's Jealousy.

"What were you reading. when I;came upon you just now ?" Mrs Crawford asked "z her husband: " You -looked very muchinterested." „,„ , „., Mr Crawford looked at her oddly. "Really I doh'tf know,"- he "said. " Was I reading anything -V .."I'm sure I'm, not inquisitive/ said Mrs Crawford, and sat down to the coffee -; urn with a little flounce ; " only I, always, show you my letters, William." . „*_, J- s ."I've only received one letter this,, morning, " said Mr Crawford. '* If you : d ,' like to share the pleasure of reading,^-,-you can." ( . -*'.'•"', He tossed, her an envelope,',; Fithih , which lay a little foldded , pa'peiv~theV butcher's monthly accpunt; , 1, ■- , Mrs Crawford poked the bilLback.into its envelope. .. t lt was a yellow, one.*,, That which she had seen her, husband reacting had, she ielt sure, a dedicate pink~ tinge. , ' In all their, married .life Mrs "Crawford had never felt a sucpicion of Her husband before, but there was no chat, over thebreakfast table that morning. The children were neglected and grew fretful ; the mother scolded them.- t The,' faUier ,g*ve no good-bye, kiss -'to, his! We {/and .',- when, her early morning dntiea over, and- . the children off to Bchbol,'Mrs Crawfotd "' ascended to the -little- sitting-room, c sne carried as wretched a heart thither' as, ' could well beat in any wonianVbreasi " ""' 1," ,B?*, B ?* l \ ,T as 3 ? al - c 'P in^ M^> a «'<*'»'' lady a hand," said Mrs Crawford to her- : self, " and ho .hid it from .me." The; j horror sbo felt at .opening jus desk*.' secretly, and as a burglar might, quite v passed away. She » wiped, her eyes', with her handkerchief, and plunged Mn-j a certain box, which was a receptacle of - 1 odds and ends. Thence fsn&,,brought'.ifortha jingling. chain, with keys striung ' .upon it, little and big, iron "and" bipss* new and rusty ; keys her granjinidther „' had had for her storeroom; keyßf.tliat, belonged, to her own doll's "bureaus [ Gatherißg-.them up.in her hands, she sat, ; down before the desk, and began .to. 'ixyione after, another, in the lock. Atj&gfc',* she found one that fitted;,, £he Jifte&tiKJ'. I

interior of the desk. There was a book, one her husband had been reading the night before, from the edges of which protruded something pink. Mrs Crawford pounced upon this with a low cry. It w|s a little envelope ; from it she tore a note." This was "what she read :— "My dearest William, — I've longed so to see you all day. Be sure that you come to-night. " With a kiss, yours always." Mrs Crawford gave a little scream, but she thought of the servants, and restrained herself. White as death, she put the note back in the book, locked the desk, and dropped the great chain of keys into its box. Then she sat down in her rocking-chair and swayed herself backward and forward, and asked herself what she should do. What, in- j deed ! Fifteen years she had been mar- j ried, and all this while she had been so happy. And now trouble worse than death had come. There was no explaining this away. Her husband had no sister, no mother, no female friend or relative who could write such a thing. No, there was no .explanation but this dreadful one — he had been making love to some one. Perhaps he even had two wives. When men began to be bad, no one could tell where they would stop. When her husband came home he had no suspicion of the discovery she had made. He looked at her much as usual, and he spoke first. " What's the matter, Em ? The children are not threatened with the smallpox?" •' If they were dead of it, William, and I too, I should be glad," said the wife. "I had rather be dead than feel as I feel to-night." "My dear, I never saw you this way before," he said. "Are you ill] I'm afraid you are." j . He came to her side and bent over her. She repulsed him. Then he, astonished and angry, stood looking at her. " What am I to understand from this V he said. " You know, William," she answered. " Look into your heart and ask yourself. Ah, William, I have been a true wife to you, and a good mother to your children for fifteen years, and now you turn from me for some younger and prettier woman. You see I know all, William. That note excited my suspicion this morning. I don't know why women don't refcson things out like men ; they know the truth by instinct. I opened your desk, and I read the note you had hidden inside the book of poems, and I don't know who she is, and I don't care ; but you love another woman." Still the husband stood looking at his wife — the strangest look. He did not approach her, nor did he answer her by any word. After a while, he said softly and quite to himself : "The little pink note in the book! Well, to be sure ! Yes, yes ; and she is jealous." "Jealous ! " cried poor Mrs. Crawford. " That's a light word to me, and you use it lightly. It iB nothing that you have been so false to me — that you — " "Emma," said the man, interrupting her, "you make, accusations very coolly. Why do you declare that I have been false to you ? " A little ray of hope shot into the wife's heart. " At least, you must have made love to a woman before she could write so to ¥ He shook his head softly. ' " Yes, I confess that," he said. " This is more than I can bear," sobbed the wife. "I am an idiot to talk to you, but you shall know' my resolution. We must part. Papa will take me home. I will go toihim with my children, and you — you can go to her, whoever she is. I will not share the heart that once was all my owjir" v I don't think you were right to open my desk as you did," he said ; " but since you have found the letter, I'll make a clean breast of it. Love is something that conies and goes at will. I love that woman, and she,, poor girl, loves me. I suppose if you feel anxious to go home to your father, I must let you go. I'll write to the old gentleman, and explain. Good night, Enuna," jtfext day a carriage stopped at the door, and a white-haired old farmer stepped from it. It was Emma's father. Mr. Crawford had been as goodas his word, and had written to him. "Oh, father!" cried the wretched woman, as shd clung to his arm, " this is a sad, sad ending of all my hopes ! " "Yes, Emmy," said the old man. " Crawford has told me aIL It's very dreadful ; but you are coming home to me, you know., and you can't regret leaving him — a man that gets love-letters from other women, Emmy." Her mother took her in her arms at the door ; that was something ; but after all she could not forget her long, long wifehood. That night Mrs Crawford lay awake and not likely to sleep. " Awake, daughter ? " aaked a voice. She answered, " Yes, father— and likely to be." Then the door opened, and the old man came in. " I came to bring you this. Your husband gave me this to give you. It's about the woman who wrote that note, and I'd read it to-night if I were you. I'll set the candle over here. Might as well go over it at once. ' Good night." The same queer look that she had seen in all their faces startled Emma Crawford again; but it passed from her mind as she took np the thick letter that had been laid upon her pillow, and breaking the seal, found within two small pink notes— ,

one numbered "one," and the other " two," in black-lead pencil ; and another in her husband's handwriting. " My Dear Emma," it began : " I think that by this time you will haye grown anxious to know more about the woman who wrote to me. Women are very curious, yon know. She's a very nice little soul, though troubled with jealousy, and I married her fifteen years ago. I lived very near her during courting days, and we never wrote much to each other. I. had two little notes only. Those I kept. The one numbered two was written on her return from a short visit. The other, No. 1., while she was absent. The number two is the one you read. I came across it that morning you spied me reading it. I should have told you, had you not been so cross. But when I was soft with the memory of old courting days, you snapped at me. Emma, my dear, you have forgotten your own little notes; but if 'instinct' had only prompted you to look at the dates, it would have been better. ' Instinct always guides a woman,' you know. Perhaps, on the whole, you'll not care to stay always with your parents, but may some day forgive your husband, and return to him. Yours as ever, William."

"Father, do you think ho ever can forgive me and take me back ? " said Mrs Crawford to her father next morning. " I have been such an idiot ! "

"I don't know, I'm sure, my dear," said the old man ; and then he opened the little parlour door, and some one standing within it stretched out his arms, and Emma Crawford rushed into them. Her first fit of jealousy was over, and it was her last. #