HOPE, MY WIFE. CHAPTER VII.

Otago Witness, Issue 2728, 27 June 1906, Page 70

HOPE, MY WIFE.

CHAPTER VII.

By L. G. MOBERLET.

HE best of motives had actuated Miles Anderson when he asked Hope James to be his wife, and he most fully intended to make every possible provision for the happiness of the girl who had been put into his care. No one could have meant to do better than he did : no one could have had purer and kinder intentions towards a friendless orphan. But from the beginning he went to work upon his unwonted task in the wrong way, and with a manlike- assurance that - things would -eventually .settle themselves satisfactorily. As he had said to Sister Grace, he "meant", his wife to do this, that or the other, and he omitted to rerrteniber the sister's wise warning that his wife might on- hex own account have views of what she intended to do. Hope was very young, but there was in her disposition a large fund of obstinacy, and opposition increased this obstinacy to muhshness. On the other hand, she would have obeyed the wishes of any one who loved her, and whom she loved, with lamblike docility : she could be easily led, whilst to drive her was an impossibility. Because of her liking for Miles, she had scraped her hair into an appalling smoothness never intended for it by nature, and she had bought herself new clothes from the shops at which he bade her deal ; but she absolutely refused to consult Sister Grace on any subject whatever, and her own choice of colours was unfortunate m the extreme. Possibly the girl was vaguely conscious of Grace's hidden feelings towards Miles, and probably the poor child was painfully aware of her own shortcomings and deficiencies, and of Grace's superior charms. Be that as it may, she built up a wall between herself and the elder woman, one which the sister could not climb, and Grace at last desisted from her kindly efforts to make friends with the doctor's young wife. Hope's character was in no respect the mouldable one which Anderson had flattered himself it would be. Her niotVip*-'* willies she had followed 'iy, willlingly, because sh« loved her mother, and iove would have led her as easily now, if there had been any one to pour out love upon her. To attempt to drive her was to arouse in her either sullen opposition of a passive kind or an outburst of childish petulance; to lead her by love would have brought to the leader her ungrudging obedience and loyalty. Of this trait in her character Miles was not aware, nor did he take the trouble to find it out. He was very busy, his work absorbed him ; he had never been a lady's man or particularly interested in women, and he was inclined to look upon the larger number of the sex as replicas of his mother, conseSuently to be treated with a shrug of ie shoulders, on the principle of "let j her alone, she will come round." I He felfc that in bringing Hope away from the miserable lodging and Mrs Brooks's ministrations, he had already ( done a good deal for her : and lie sur- j rounded her with books, music, pictures, and gave her carte blanche to do as she pleased from morning to night, and then, poor, Ignorant man, flattered lumself he was doing his utmost for her happiness, and went his own way, spending hifi busy days as heretofore, seeing Hope at breakfast and dinner, occasionally at lunch, and, yet more occasionally still, in the evening. Once or twice during toe autumn after their marriage he took her to the theatre,, and her eager delight and appreciation df "' all ehe saw pleased him ; but, as a woman, she did not interest him in the least: she was too childish, too unformed and undisciplined, and withal plain. Nothing in

her roused in him any answering chord of admiration or affection ; he was sorry for her, that was all. Sometimes he remembered to bring her home a new magazine or a bunch of tiowers, and her eager gratitude and the lighting up of her lace might have shown him how susceptible she was to kindness ; but his work absorbed him too much to allow of his making an exhaustive study of his wife's character, his wife who was just his ward living in his house and bearing his name, no less, no more. The novelty of her surroundings pleased the girl for a while. After that first passionate outburst of which she was by the next morning heartily ashamed, she sank for a time into a quiet acceptance of her new life, and if there came moments of revolt against her lonely days, she tried to tell herself that she was feeling only just the first forlornness without her i mother ; that by-and-bye, when, Miles was less busy, he would be able to give i her some of the tenderness she longed for, for which her .whole being ached and I craved j and that perhaps when Miles's mother came back to town she would find in her the motherly tenderness she so sorely missed. Quick disappointment fol- I lowed this dream. For Miles's mother Hope took an instant and acute aversion, a fact which, though deplorable enough, was not to be wondered at, when the elder Mrs Anderson's conduct towards her " daughter-in-law is taken into account. i The elder lady was out of town at the ! time of the wedding, and Hope had been married nearly a month before she met her husband's mother, and the circumstances of their meeting were anything but propitious. Mrs Anderson, sen., despatched a curt note to her son, bidding him bring the girl he had married 1 to see her, and this note, by an evil chance, Miles tossed across the table to Hope. "We had better go and see my mother this afternoon," he eaid. As she read the short note, Hope's face crimsoned. "Why does she call me 'the girl you have married,' as if i was so much dirt?" she asked ; "and why doesn't she come and see me?" Miles lifted his ey.es from his news*, paper and stared at his wife. She nras continually appearing before him in a .new light, and each one seemed to him less pleasant than the last. "Well, you are the girl I have married," lie answered, trying to speak lightly, '"and — my mother is an invalid and a great deal older than you are. She naturally expects some deference from you. .1 hoped — ydu would try to be a daughter to her,'' he- added, after an imperceptible pause. "I don't think she wants me as a daughter —or anything else," Hope answered, shrewdly ; "she is just making tiie be3t o:£ a bad business: I can see that quite plainly," Her surmises came painfully near the truth, and -anderson felt that silence vraa the better part of wisdom, and after, another pause changed the subject. But- in -the; afternoon he came in earlier than usual that he might escort Hope to his, mother's house, and in something under half an hour they were being ushered into the elder Mrs Anderson's overcrowded and under-lighted drawing room. Miles's mother lay upon the sofa, her grey elegantlv-coiffured head becomingly placed upon rose-coloured cushions: the rays of the lamp shaded by the same soft colour, concealing rather than revealing the outlines of her face. Even Hope's unpractised eyes grasped the fact that 6he was immaculately dressed, and the gfrl became suddenly and painfully aware that there was something terribly wrong with her own ready-made coat and skirt. Mrs Anderson bestowed one comprehensive glance upon her daughter-in-law, a glance that took in the girl's every defect of look and build, with each shortcoming of her unsuitable and badly-fitting garments. Then she extended a flabby hand to Hope. "How do you do?'' she said in the weary voice of one to whom the very act of living is an, effort ; "won't you sit down?" Hope sat down, on the extremest edge of a chair, and from sheer nervousness began- to unbutton and pull off her gloves, watched by. her mother-in-law with a h'ft o! the eyebrows that' made Miles fidget irritably. " ' " You must find the management of my son's house a novel experience," Mrs Anderson went on in her languid voice ; "you aro young to undertake the control of a big household." Hope opened her eyes, and answered rather breathlessly: "OhJ but I don't control it, I •" "Indeed?" Mrs Anderson's tone expressed surprise, mingled with disapproval ; "I should have thought that by this time you would have mastered the management of— — " •' My dear mother," Miles broke m, "you surely know that I have an excellent housekeeper. Hope has not been accustomed to — to this sort of thing." His mother's face plainly expressed agreement, she sighed heavily, saying: " Things have changed very much since my youth. When I married your father I had to learn to govern my own household. The younger generation is very helpless." Hope's eyes flashed, resentment rang in her voice ; she answered quickly :' " I don't think I am helpless, only I don't know things about a house. How should I? I have always lived in lodg- ■ iflgs." Mrs Anderson, senior, closed her eyes and sighed again. " Dear me, what a spitfire/ she said faintly, and Miles interposed again. - "I am sure Hope is willing to learn all ' she can, mother. Perhaps you will • give her a few hints about housekeeping and — and — general management." Mre Anderson's eyes opened with great I suddenness.

7 "I?" she exclaimed, "mj;-dear Miles, ' am far too prostrate to be able to do such a thing. It has" been a great effort to me -Co see you both to-day. Seeing a strangex is always very tiring to me." ,- Hope was on her feet in a moment, lh* colour flamed over her face, her. ©ye¥ gleamed angrily " I am sorry I have tired you," she said ; "I came — because Miles told me to come.' I will go away directly." Her mother-in-law stared at her speech-, lessly: Miles pushed his chair, hack and rose, frowning heavily. He disliked bickerV. ings intensely, and, "manlike, would hay» preferred to escape from the room and leave the two women to settle their own differences, if Hope had not "been between him and the door. -~ " Good-bye," Hope continued, holding out her hand, and looking down at her., mother-in-law with eyes that still 'flamed angrily ; "if strangers tire you so much, itJ is a pity I camel ' : . As she held out her ungloved hand, tha light of the lamp on the table flashed upon a ring she wore, and Mrs Anderson uttered an exclamation of surprise. { "Where did you get such a ring as that?" she cried, ignoring the girl's rude^ ncs3 ; "it is far too handsome a ring tgf be worn, by any^one so young as you are.'*, " I am married,"" Hope said defiantly* "why should I not wear it? And, besideaj It was given me .by " ' \_ Her sentence ended abruptly r tho coloub died but of her face, her, lips* quivered, j " "Let me look at it," the elder lady saidy speaking with more energy, than she had yer shown, -and 'she took "the girl' 6 small hand into hers, and looked long and earn* .esily "attire ring' upon the third finger. It was a very beautiful and ' remarkable one. In shape it resembled a heart, cufl out of a gem whose, colour was a curious [ and unusual golden brown. The heart waa set in small diamonds, and above it waa a coronet, also of diamonds ; but perhaps the most noticeable thing .about the ring . was a word deeply engraven across the top of the heart-shaped gem — the one word "Amor." '• " "Very beautiful, but far too handsom* for a young girl," Mrs Anderson remarked after a , prolonged scrutiny of the ring. "Miles, you should have given her' some* thing, simple, 'a few pearls, or— - — " "Sliles did not give me this," Hope exclaimed, jerking her hand away from Mra Anderson's, "and' I do not see Svhy I cannot wear what rings 1 like now that I am married." . , j ,"-.. „•' ; "You ,had better try to control your temper and speak respectfully £o your elders, now that you are married," watf the frigid retort; "you are a very undisciplined/little girl at present, and have * great many things to learn." "Good-bye," Hope answered abruptly! "T am sorry you don't like me, but I was quite sure "you wouldn't," and with' that she unceremoniously turned and left the room, . >fil«s. following her, half amused, and a good ' deal annoyed by her encounter ■ witß his mother.' -- "You are not very conciliatory, Hope, my dear," he. said tq-her, as they drove home; "my mother ?fa plain-spoken, ..but , she means well. ' If you will try to be friends with -her,- 1" am -"sure "■ "Why should I try!" Hope Burst out . passionately; i "she knew I was young and ignorant; she* knew I had no mother. , Why is she unkind to me, and sneering and cold ? I don't want to make friends, with her; I don't like her any more than she likes me !" "My dear child !" "It is of no use, your looking at mo as if you were shocked. I don't believe you care about your mother yourself — in the bottom of your heart, and I — I can't bear -her. So there !" Miles after this outburst discreetly held his peace, and did not again sug* gest a meeting between the two women who should have been dearest friends to him and to each other; but unfortunately not only did he give up any attempt to draw Hope and his mother together, he also literally' and metaphorically shrugged his shoulders over his wife, and let her go her own way without advice or interference. As has been said, he provided her with books and comforts, and flattered himself that he was doing all that was necessary to_ her happiness; and "every day that went'by found Hope more profoundly lonely and miserable.