Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 302, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 December 1910 — The Revolt [ARTICLE]

The Revolt

By MABEL CHASE ENGLAND

“But, Edward, I promised Marian I would dine with ter tomorrow night, and go over our parts for the play. Her husband is away, you know.” Mr. Grantley waved his hand as one who brushes aside a futile and silly objection. “Nonsense, my dear, you can do that at any time. The Browns are people I want to stand in with—for business reasons, of course—and I accepted, definitely, for both of us. That settles it" Mrs. Grantley flushed. She didn’t often oppose her husband, but she had been looking forward keenly to the little dinner alone with her sister. , “You knew I was going to Marian’s,” she ventured, pleadingly. “You - can say you forgot, that we will come some other time.” Mr. Grantley looked displeased. "My dear, the matter is settled.” His tone spelled finality. Mrs. Grantley’s lovely, youthful face jgrew mutinous. A hot, unaccustomed rebellion surged within her. "You never consult me —never!” Her husband’s eyes grew cold. "Honora,” .he said, “you had better go up to your room for the rest of the evening. You are not in a mood for sensible discussion. Go, now, and—-good-night.” Mrs. Grantley rose and walked swiftly from the room, reached her bedroom and shut and locked the door. Then she paced up and down In a tumult of angry resentment. Sent to her room like a schoolgirl! Punished because she had dared to object —to raise her voice in protest! It was unbearable! Yet it was the kind of thing that was always happening, always would happen as long as she allowed it to. She sank into a chair and rested her chin on her clasped hands, searching her mind intently for causes and effects. She had been left an orphan and Edward Grantley had been appointed her guardian. Living with him as his ward she had looked up to him, obeyed him, consulted him in everything, and when, having reached the age of seventeen, he had asked her to become his wife she had consented, knowing little of marriage, caring only that she could continue to live on with him indefinitely in the home that she loved so well. After marriage everything had gone on about the same. He had loved her, petted her, censored her; she had continued to obey him, consult him and look up to him. Now she was twenty, and mixing more with the world, consorting with other women, she was coming to realize that the relationship in which she stood to her husband was not that of other wives, that she and Edward were not partners, companions, walking side by side through life on equal terms, but still child and guardian. Now it seemed to her as if the thing had come suddenly to a head. "I .must do something, I must!” she exclaimed, stamping her foot in emphasis. “This subjection is only a habit —with EM ward as well as myself. He doesn’t realize —I don’t make him, see—” With sudden determination she rose, smoothed her ruffled hair and gown and forcibly regained her composure. Then she unlocked the door, hesitated a moment on the threshold, took her courage in both hands and passed quickly through the halls and down into the library. As she entered and walked over to one of the bookcases her husband looked up;, then, evidently expecting her to select a book and return to her room, went on with his writing. Honora chose a volume of recent fiction and Bat down by the open fire. Mr. Grantley leaned back in his chair. “Honora, I thought I said good-night to you.” “You did,” she smiled, "but when I got upstairs I found I didn’t feel sleepy,, so I decided to come down again.” Her husband looked at her in astonishment. “I meant you to remain there, my dear, but if you have decided to be reasonable you may stay here.” Mrs. Grantley vouchsafed no response, and presently her husband’s voice broke the stillness again. “What book are you reading, Honor®?” She told him the title. "My dearetft!” he protested, “you know I object very much to your reading that foolish,, class of fiction. Put it away and get something that will stimulate your brain rather than soften it” Honora held herself still by a strong effort. Mr. Grantley rose and went over to her. “Give me the book, Honora, and then go upstairs. I don’t understand you tonight” Honora’s heart beat painfully, but her voice was serene. “I want to read this book, Edward; It is being so much talked about And I don’t care to read upstairs—the room Is chilly. I prefer to stay here." Mr. Grantley looked at her uncertainly, then took several restless paces about the room. s “You can’t be well tonight, Honora.* he commented finally. “Tomorrow I’ll have Dr. Sanson run in and look at you. You are not yourself at all.” He settled back to his work, interrupting

It, however, with many uneasy and perplexed glances at the fair profile of his wife. Nothing more was said that night, nor the next morning, when he was unusually grave and unresponsive, and neglected to kiss her when he left for the office. Honora shed a few 'bitter tears, then grasped her resolution anew. She would go to. Marian’s for. dinner that night. She must do something definite and decided, something that would bring the matter to an issue. She dressed early, left a note for her husband telling him she had decided to keep her engagement with Marian, and set out. Arrived at her sister’s she said nothing about the matter. She talked gayly about the coming theatricals In which they were both to take part, though as the evening drew on she found it hard to control her nervousness and apprehension. When ten o’clock struck she remarked quietly: “Edward has to go out tonight and may not be able to come for me. In that case I’m going to stay all night with you.” • ' “You’re a dear!” exclaimed Marian warmly. “I don’t believe he’ll come now—he’s never later than ten. Let’s go to bed." All night Honora tossed on her pillow, thinking, grieving, wondering what he would do when she returned. He was angry, she knew, or he would have come for her. Perhaps he would leave her, perhaps when she reached there in the morning he would be gone—never to come back to her. And how she loved him, in spite of everything! He was so big, so strong, so magnetic, everybody loved aim. Toward morning she fell into a troubled sleep, arose at eight unrefreshed, and after breakfast started for home. The walk through the brisk morning air did much to restore her poise and Confidence. When she reached the house she was almost herself again. To her surprise, her husband met her at the door. His face was pale and haggard. Come into the library, Honora,” he said. "I have something to say to you. She went in obediently and sat down in a big chair by the window. The relief of finding him still at home bad lightened her heart. He closed the door and faced her. “Honora,” he said, “I don’t know how to tell you, how to explain to you just what this night has been to me. At first I was angry. I had a foolish desire to punish you. Then as the evening passed and you did not come I grew anxious. I had thought of course you would let aMrian send you in the carriage. I began to ask myself what it all meant, what reason you had for acting as you did. Then I thought over our disagreement of last night and light began slowly to dawn on me. As I paced up and down, thinking, worrying, longing for you, the whole revelation of my stupid conduct toward you since our marriage gradually came to me. I saw my foolish attitude, your rebellion and my insistence in their true light. I seemed to behold you suddenly in a new aspect, not as a child to be schooled and trained and dictated to, but as a woman—a beautiful woman—my wife. And then, dear, came gripping my heart the terrible fear that I had lost you, that in my thoughtless folly I had unwittingly killed yous love. Honora There was a swift little rush and two strong arms were round his neck and a wet cheek pressed to his. “Oh, dearest,” she protested, half sobbing, half laughing, “I loved you all the time, and now more—more than I ever dreamed of. I knew it was just that you didn’t think, that you believed me to be still your bad small child—” He held her to him, strongly. “But," she whispered shyly, "you mustn’t give me all my own way, even now, for I love you, and—l like to obey you—a little!"