“One man’s Wife”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18805, 6 July 1929, Page 31 (Supplement)

“One man’s Wife”

INSTALMENT SEVEN.

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Barbara Webb

YVONNE ROSS is being neglected by her husband. She was a beautiful French peasant girl when he married her and he required her to retain all her peasant characteristics, including her Normandy costume. Two friends of RICHARD, her husband, come to dinner. One of them is 808 WEST, RICHARD’S oldest friend. He advises DICK to educate YVONNE and tells him she is deeply in love with her husband. RICHARD'S regard for YVONNE is one of affection rather than love. The other guest is ANNE LOVELACE, society girl, whom YVONNE suspects of being in love with RICHARD. A REVELATION TO YVONNE. The days that followed the dinner party seemed less dull to Yvonne because she could still recall the excite ment of that day. She felt deeply grateful when she thought of Bob West. Her intuition told her he was her friend. She felt equally suspicious when she thought of Anne, for her intuition told her here was an enemy. In spite of her vow of obedience, which she had no intention of breaking, she often pictured herself in her imagination dressed like Anna. Several times she pulled her hair back from her face to get the effect of a bob. She made herself a plentiful supply of lovely silk underthings, and took to grooming herself far more carefully than she had ever done. She bought shoes for herself, too, and sheen stockings. Richard had said nothing about shoes and stockings, and soon Yvonne had a collection—sturdy ones for walking, and several pairs of slender high-heeled affairs that she loved to mince around her room in. In fact her mirror was her greatest consolation these days. It told her she was pretty, that her colour was good, her skin fresh and pink, her blue eyes clear and sparkling. Richard never told her of any of these things. He did not see them. He had come lately upon a case of unusually interesting specimens and he was working at them night and day. One morning he said to Yvonne: “I wish 3’ou’d bring a tray large enough for two this noon. A man from the Smithsonian Institution is coming down to look over some of my work and he will probably be here throtigh lunch time." “You do not care to come downstairs where I can give you a hot lunch?” Yvonne asked. Richard shook his head. “We’ll be too busy to stop for that,” he answered. It was a tastefully arranged tray Yvonne carried up to the laboratory at 1. She had made sandwiches of chicken and her own home-made cheese with guava jelly. During the morning she had baked small cakes and iced them. There was a bowl of egg salad flanked with hearts of.lettuce and celery. In the centre was a mound of fruit freshly chilled and she had added a pot of coffee which she prayed they would srink while it was hot. She tapped at the door and waited for Richard to come so that she might tell him about the coffee. Getting no answer, she knocked again. “I’ll get it presently,” he called to her. “Too busy to come to the door right now, Yvonne.” She went downstairs, somehow chilled by his irritable voice. The afternoon passed slowly. Soon after 4, while Yvonne was standing in the kitchen, marshalling her ideas for dinner, she heard the two men come downstairs. At the front door they paused for a few words. Fortunately Yvonne could not understand them, as they spoke in English. “Mighty interesting day, Ross,” the visiting scientist said. ‘And say, you’ve surely got a good cock. French, isn’t she?” Before Richard could say, “My wife prepafed our lunch,” his visitor had shaken hands and gone. Richard was ashamed for a moment. But the evening paper lay on the table, he could hear Yvonne moving about the kitchen and he was very tired. In a moment he was deep in an easy chair, absorbed in the news. YVONNE MAKES A DISCOVERY, ‘rronne receded more and more from his range of interests. He took to working all evening as well as all way and Yvonne’s loneliness grew. Slowly, too, there dawned a realisation that Richard was unaware of her love for him, and that he had never loved her, as in her simple heart she had believed he did. She was never bitter when she thought of this. She had far more than she could have had in marrying the village smith, for. instance. She finally decided that she would bear with the loneliness and neglect as long as she could, and then if she felt that Richard truly did not need her, she would ask him to let her return to France. Having made this decision, provided a way of escape for herself if the necessity arose, she felt better, and went about her work with her customary good cheer. Her work finished, she would often finger the magazines and books that lay plentifully about the house. She had no Frenfch books which she could have read, though she was not proficient in the art of reading. But she could pore over the pictures and tills she often did. Once in a while she

bought a brightly covered magazine and turned its pages, studying the meaning of some of the more fascinating illustrations. Then she discovered she could pick out little tunes on the piano. After that she spent many hours playing tunes with one finger. She could soon play the airs of all the folk songs she knew and would sit singing them softly and playing them with one finger. One day, as she sat playing and singing, a ring took her to answer the door. A man stood there, hat in hand, a kit of tools slung over one shoulder. “Tune your piano, lady?” he asked. Yvonne shook her head. The man took in her strange dress. “No speak English?” he asked. Yvonne shook her head again. He made the motion of playing the piano with his free hand. “Fix it,” he said. Yvonne comprehended the motion. This man had something to do with pianos. She was bored and dull, 30 she opened the door and asked him in. . “I will let you touch my friend/ she said in French, “but you must not hurt him, he is all I have in this quiet house. None other speaks to me.” She had always referred to the piano as a person, and truly it often seemed to her that the piano understood her and answered her moods. She watched the man unsling his kit and go over to the instrument. He sat down on the bench and struck the chords and ran the scales after the manner of piano tuners the world over. Yvonne listened entranced. Then she saw the man shake his head. “ Terribly but of tune,” he said. “ I’ll fix it for you, lady,” he nodded reassuringly and beckoned Yvonne to his side. Putting one finger on middle C, and one on the next octave up he showed her the difference in tone. Yvonne comprehended and nodded wisely as he showed her how other notes were also off key. She was fascinated as he worked, tightening and improving the tone, handling his work as though he loved it. Her ear was sensitive and she could tell as quickly as he when a note was finally right. When he had finished he asked her to play, in pantomime. She shook her head and asked him to play. He sat down, and, playing from ear, entertained her for half an hour. When he left he gave her his card and told her to call on him again. She smiled and nodded her head, though she was not sure just what he was asking her. But the afternoon had been a revelation to her. Before this she had always thought of music as being for the few who had the leisure and wealth and had nothing to do but play. Now this man most certainly was not wealthy. And he could play, perhaps there would be some chance for her to learn. YVONNE'S REQUEST. After dinner that night she went to Richard and showed him the card. “ He made wonderful music for me,” she told her husband. “ Played by ear probably,” Richard said. “ These fellows never do any real studying.” “ Richard ” Yvonne paused. Suddenly she was afraid to ask for what she wished. Something in her tone made Richard look up. He saw the pulse beating fast in her white throat. “ What is it ? ” he asked kindly taking her hand. “ It is nothing—but I do not have enough to do here, and to-day I thought if only I could learn to make music, to play on the piano, how happy it would make me, how busy it would keep me. I do not wish to do anything that will displease you, and it you sav so I will never think of it again, but if you are willing, I } long with all my heart to learn music.” “ No harm in that that I can see/ Richard said. “Music’s surely an international language. We’ll have to get you a teacher who speaks French though. I’ll advertise for one to-mor-row.” Yvonne threw her arms about him and kissed him warmly. Her eyes danced. She was transformed into a radiantly happy creature, and Richard himself felt a glow that he had granted her simple request. True to his promise this advertisement appeared in the papers the following day: , . Wanted: Piano teacher for beginner; adult; must be able to speak French. Write Box XYZ. There were various answers to ms call. Richard interviewed three of them. One was a typical Frenchman who would make love to Yvonne during the second lesson, Richard felt sure. Another was a young French girl who was not temperamentally fitted to be patient with Yvonne's mistakes, he felt. The third, whom he engaged, was a young American woman who had studied abroad and who spoke passable French. . Yvonne wore her silk costume for tlie coming of her teacher. She had been in a fever of impatience all day. She had dusted and polished the piano until it shone. Richard had told her she might offer tea to the teacher after the lesson and Yvonne had a plate of small cakes and sandwiches made with love and anxiety for the great occasion. The teacher proved to be a pleasantIv impersonal young woman, a born teacher, who loved her work. She

was entranced with Yvonne’s beauty, though she did not say so. And she found Yvonne’s eagerness touching in the extreme. Intending to spend half an hour with her pupil at the first lesson, she spent an hour. Richard came down at the end of the hour and asked how the new student was making out. “ She has a wonderfully keen sense of music,” Miss Watkins answered. “She is going to learn very fast. It is too bad she does not speak English. I feel that I could teach her better in my own tongue.” Richard looked at Yvonne’s flushed and happy face. “ I can see you have been having a good time,” he said. “Run along and get us some tea and I will ask Miss Watkins to play for us. And mind, you are to sit with us and pour the tea!” Yvonne went happily to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar so that she might not miss a single note of the music Miss Watkins was playing. It was a pleasant tea party and Yvonne cried for sheer happiness and nerves when Miss Watkins had left. “ Didn’t know you had any nerves, Yvonne,” Richard said, patting her shoulder awkwardly. Then he went on, “ I came down to tea because Bob West called me up and wants me to dine in the city with him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Do you mind staying alone this evening? ” “Oh no! ” Yvonne cried. “I shall speak with my friend the piano all evening.” Dick did not tell her that Bob had wanted her to come, too, had engaged a private dining room so she might not be made the obpect of comment, had used every possible persuasion to get Richard to bring his wife. Richard did not quite know why he had refused. He was glad now Yvonne had her new toy to play with. It did not dawn upon him that this same new toy would one day blow their placid home to bits. YVONNE makes rapid progress in the next instalment and quite suddenly a new world opens before her eyes. Can she be content with the world RICHARD has created for her? Or will she fashion a new one for herself? A new and important character appears in tomorrow’s instalment. Do not miss it.