Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 185, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 August 1914 — Human Documents of Maŕied Life [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Human Documents of Maŕied Life

By Virginia T. Van de Water

Intimate and Human, Intensely Alive, Each Stray Presenting a Problem _ Which Might Occur to Any One of Us at Any Time

WHY WE GETHER ,V,NG T 0

OME persons express butl prise that one . marriage ■ out of every dozen ends in | divorce or separation. To [ my way of thinking, the | marvel is that the percent- ! age is sa small. I have r wondered at it times without number. Yet John Wal-

lace and I still live together. Perhaps other coupleC have reasons as cogent as ours for not separating, reasons which, so far as the world can see, have kept us a united pair for all these years. . ‘. Marriage without love is a crime, say good people. How about a marriage in which the parties to the contract have chased to love'each other? Is life together under such' circumstances sin? That is a question which I ask myself often. Up to the present date it has remained unanswered. I was twenty-five years old when I married. I had been a teacher in a public school in a suburban town to which John Wallace came j>ne Bpring to superintend the erection of a house for which he had drawn the plans. The wife of the owner _of the house had been kind to me, and, through her, I met the successful young architect. At the end of three months we were engaged; at the end of a year we were married. That I was in love with him no doubt. I I know that'be loved me, for, if not, why he did marry me? ‘ - Of course, when we married, John and I went to the city to live. • I loved the metropolis and the busy, rushing life there, and I dotfbt if any bride was ever happier in her new home than I was at first John was older than I. He was thirty-three when we were married. During his bachelor days he had made many friends, some of whom I liked, and others of whom I did not admire. He insisted that I be nice to them all. I did not fancy this idea. Now. that I was Independent of the need of propitiating members of a board of education, or the wives of school trustees, 1 wanted to enjoy this freedom- To me, it seemed Insincere to, be especially nice to rich people in the hope that they might, as John said, “give him a Job.” I told him this .when he regretted that I had not made myself more agreeable to a man by whom I had chanced to sit at a dinner party the night before. “He has influence, and can get me ’ a great deal of work," explained my husband. “How?" asked . “He owns a lot of property that is increasing in value and as he sells to men whom he knows and with whom his word goes, he could, naturally, mention my name as a good fellow to make plans for the buildings they expect to put up. Moreover, he is in- ' terested in city affairs, and, by advising managers of public institutions, to engage my services, can throw thousands of dollars, in my Way. So you should have been nice to him. And you weren’t, I kept an eye on you, and you scarcely talked to him -at an.” . ~ "”I know it,” I said, irritated at this criticism of my manners. “He talked of nothing but himself and his money. , That kind of thing is not good form.” . He renewed the subject the neat morning. “Isabel,” he began, “you remember that we were talking of Jacob Welch yesterday. You may recall that I took his wife in to dinner the same night on which you snubbed her husband. Well, she is a nice little thing. I told her you would be glad to have her call on you, for she said she would like to know you better.” “Bht;' dear,” I protested, “they’re such ordinary people—she and her husband!” John laughed good-naturedly. "But, dear,” he mocked, “they’re such influential people—she and her husband! So be nice when Mrs. Welch calls." She came, and I was as pleasant as I could be to a woman with .whom I had nothing in common. The next - week she wrote, asking us to dine with her ten days later. "I don’t'iare to accept,” I told my husband. "The dinner is going to be one of those big, formal affairs to which we have not been Invited before because w« not in the rich set I’ve hes ugh about them not to want t - * “Well, I do . ..af to go,” insisted John. “At least, while I do not expect to derive any particular pleasure from thefunction, I know that It may mean business. So write a letter accepting.” On the night of the big dinner I dressed with great care. I thought 1 was still enough of a girl to look * well in the dainty white China crepe gown I wore. As I removed my wraps hi the dress, tog room of the great house, assisted Iby a supercilious maid. I glanced at another woman who had Just entered, ffaloimm In all hi* glory would bawl looked like a Mir of Orders dray I law jiriim aim r4e«wi Mill* ftdMp I Later Ifonnd that the costurde I

w , had Just beheld was but one of many —all gorgeous, all with long trains, all cut low —some to the point of indecency. Jewels sparkled from necks, breasts, and coiffures, and when the< guests removed their gloves at table they revealed fingers loaded with rings. I felt like a meek and shorttailed white Leghorn hen in a poultry yard full of peacocks. ' With this thought in mind I looked -across the table to where John sat next his hostess, chatting as if he had been brought up in this set. The sight Irritated me. I shook myself mentally, reminded myself that I was better born than., these people, and, meeting John’a warning glance, turned to the man by 'whom I sat and talked to him as fast and as thoughtlessly as my tongue would permit. What a dreary evening it was! And yet, as men came in from the diningroom, and I suggested to John that It was time to leave, he looked genuinely disappointed and -expressed surprise at the lateness of the hour. In the cab on our way home he asked:

“Well, did you have a good time?" “I can’t remember/’ I said slowly, “that In> all my life before I ever had such a dreadful evening. Those women were the greatest bores I ever knew. They think, that life consists, in Buying clothes and Jewelry. Both the men and women are common, through and through.” ' “I noticed,” returned my husband, with a vexed laugh, "that you managed to enjoy their champagne pretty thoroughly, and you did not seem much bored as long as you had a man next to you to whom to talk.” And this was his appreciation of my sacrifice! I thought it over that night

and wondered If any man was ever grateful. A few «days later when John told me of an order he received from Mr. Welch to submit to him plana for a new country place,' I only remarked that I was “glad some good came out of so much discomfort.” John looked at me for a moment, then said, sarcastically: “Wifely sympathy to one’B work is delightful. In your case It is consplcious by Its absence." y •:.

•-I have dwelt at such length upon the above incident because to looking back at our married life it seems that,' until this time, my husband and myself had never really had any hard feeling, or any serious difference of opinion. I always felt that the Welch efnßode was the entering* wedge that split the unseasoned wood of our married life.

John’s plans for the Welch country place were approved, and, that he might keep an eye on the work as it progressed, it was deqlded that we take a furnished cottage in the vicinity the following summer. I was willing to do this, for I liked the outdoor life and preferred having our own home to going-to a summer hotel. I decided to have Sarah, my sister, spend her vacation with us. A distant cousin was to visit my parents for a few months, and suggested that Sarah take a needed rest during this period. So my young and ‘attractive sister came to us.

- I. did not appreciate how young and attractive she really was until I saw John’B eyes light wltli pleasure when she came down the cottage stairs to dinner the night of her arrival. My husband sprang to his feet and met her at the foot of the stairs with outstretched hands. To my astonishment, and, Nthink, to, hers also, he bent and kissed her. : - The presence of a pretty girl to, pne’s home precludes the possibility of a quiet time. I learned this soon after Sarah’* arrival, as the young people in the neighborhood, after meeting her once, wanted to know her better. What were called to the country community “the summer folks,” formed a Jolly colony. Sarah

was almost as popular with the girls as with the men. She was what to known as “a man’s woman,” yet her own sex liked her, too. She seemed so naive that the only persons who suspected her of not being an ingenue were the matrons whose husbands admired her. , £ I confess that I was one of these. That my husband fohnd to my pretty sister a charming companion was somewhat of a surprise to me, for I had never seen him really attentive to any woman bat myself. I said nothing about it until one afternoon when the express-wagon, delivering parcels that had come out. from the city, left at our door a superb hamper of fruit, addressed to Sarah. “From one of your admirers!” I said Jokingly. I did not for a moment associate the arrival of the fruit with the fact that John had gone into town that morning- on an early train. , “I really believe it is from Brother John," she said eagerly. “Last night I told him that I thought the farmers about here supply us with the meanest peaches and plums I ever ato. and that I would like to go info town long enough to get all the fruit I wanted.” “Don’t flatter yourself,” I remarked dryly. “John has the habit of oat som™fruiTfrom the city, and he

has forgotten the request before he reached the front gate.” By this time Sarah’s fingers had torn off the stout paper wrappings, and the hamper stood uncovered. Beneath the lid which she lifted was a mass of plums—yellow, purple, and crimson—rows of luscious peaches and clusters of golden pears. -An envelope lay on top of the fruit I glanced over Sarah's shoulder as,she drew forth the card It enclosed. The words leaped up to me: For the dearest of little sisters—-

!rom “Brother John.” I turned away abruptly and entered the house. Sarah ran after me. - “Isabel!” she exclaimed, “you are not angry, are you?”’ “Of c<ftrse not,” I asserted, trying to speak Indifferently. “Only, It Is amusing to see how John remembers your hints for fruit, and forgets my requests for it” . ;: "But, dear, this is for you, too — all that you want of it You know’’— with a laugh—“that I could not eat all of that stuff In a month. And I know John would want you to have some.” Her words angered me. That my. sister was telling me what my own husband would wish irritated me unspeakably. I jerked myself away from her detaining hand.

“When I want you to interpret John’s wishes so far as I am concerned I will tell yon, Sarah. I am aware that had you not almost asked for the fruit he would never have sent it to you. As you are our gueßt, he could hardly refuse to comply with your suggestion, especially when you prefaced it by the Information that in our home you missed the delicacies you craved." . '

Sarah’s temper, too, rose at this slur. “And yet you suggested a few minutes ago that John had gratified my desires and slighted yours!” she retorted. “You are a trifle Inconsistent, my dear sister!” A guest coming up the walk interrupted our altercation, afid," leaving Sarah to greet 'him, I ran up-stairs. Alone, I tried to face the situation. How should I meet It? I could not deny that I had put myself In the

wrong by showing my sister .that my husb&nd’s action had angered me. But, since I recognized -this, I could bq on my guard not to let John suspect that I was hurt. I called on my pride to help me, and, at dinner that night, it stood me in good stead, for I chatted and laughed gaily with two young men, Sarah’s friends, who were dining with us. More young people

called to the evening, and, after a while, Mr. and Mrs. Welch came by in their automobile and sat with us for a half-hour. When they left, I lingered to talk for a moment with the girls and their escorts, who, to hammocks and rockers, half filled onr veranda; then, explaining that, as I had a slight headache, I would' ask to be excused and leave my husband to chaperon the party, I went up-stairs. There the depression of the afternoon returned, and I went miserably to bed and lay listening to the sounds of merry voices below until I. fell asleep. I awoke with a start, conscious that alt was still. Sitting up to bed, I listened. Had the young people gone home? Where was John?. - * Slipping my feet into my bed-shoes, and throwing a wrapper around me, I stole down-stairs. . The front door stood wide open, and the veranda was flooded with moonlight I heard two voices to low conversation —my sister’s and my husband’s. - Creeping into the living-room, outside the window of which the pair sat, I stood and strained my ears. Sarah was speaking to plaintive tones: “It Spoiled my pleasure to your

beautiful gift, brother. Perhaps you ought not to havesent it, since Isabel feels as she does.” John’s feet moved Impatiently on the floor. . “Isabel is ridiculously jealous!” he exclaimed. “Pay no attention to it My giving you fruit takes nothing from her. She has her place, and she knows It Don’t be a foolish child, but let me make believe that I a real brother. And a real brother would have the right to kiss you and tell you to cheer up. Which I shall now proceed to do.” I watched him as .he carried out his threat, and I saw Sarah’s white hand steal up and caress his cheek before he straightened himself with a sigh of weariness or repressslon. “Come!” he said abruptly. “This is too lovely a night to go to yet Let us take a turn down to the gate-and back, and look at the moon." N As they passed beyond earshot I went back to my room and, crouching at my own window, saw the two stroll up and down, chatting with apthey entered the house, and Sarah started up-stalrs. I sprang Into bed and pretended to be asleep when she [ passed my door. As she went into her own room I heard the clock strike one. Glancing at my watch to be sure I was not mistaken. I went into my husband's room and was waiting for him as he entered. He was whistling softly under his breath when I addressed him from where I stood to tbe flnrlnftftffir . • > - • \ i a .. *

- .. . . ■ -■■■■■ . ■ "Lord!” he exclaimed, end, even In the film light I could see him tart ghost Isabel! I thought you were in bed long ago.” ‘1 was,” I replied sullenly. “And where have you been?” “Down tm the veranda, smoking” he answered calmly, turning on his light and proceeding to take off his coat I looked at him as he stood there, nonchalantly winding his watch, the picture of a man at peace with himself and the world at large. I longed to disturb his equanimity. “With whom have you been talking all this time?” I asked accusingly. His reply was in the same unconcerned tone, “With some half-dozen guests whom you left to my tender mercies when yon went off to your room some two hours ago.” “Some three hours ago, you mean!” I exclaimed. '‘Since when you have been tete-a-tete with Sarah.” ‘•T wish I had!" he asserted, still coolly. “But the last of her admirers, except myself"—with a little bow and smile—“did not leave until a few minutes before twelve. She is, ap-

parently, a most attractive maiden if the length of her visitors’ calls is any criterion.” “You seem to find her so,” I sneered, "if one may judge by the time you have been sitting alone with her after decent people Bbould be In bed.” “I note that you are not there,” he said, qjso sneeringly. “Because I cannot sleep when I know that my husband and sister are violating all proprieties by making love until the small hours of morning!” He turned suddenly toward me. “Be careful what you say!" he exclaimed. “Jealousy is bad enough, but such insults as that are vile. You wrong your sister and me, and you know it!"

“I know,” I declared, beginning to erf, “that you have been sitting outside talking to Sarah for the past hour, that you often kiss her, that you send her fruit, and Lord knows what else you do!” "Fortunately he does know,” burst forth John, “and I wish that he would put some sense Into your head. I do kiss your sister, as if she were my own Bister; I do sit and chat of innocent matters with her; I did send her fruit—and all of these I do to an open frank manner. And for them I am insulted as if I were the veriest rascal that ever lived. For Heaven’s sake, stop that sniveling!” Without another word my husband took me by the shoulders and, as if I had been a child, walked me to front of him into my room, and, leaving ine standing there, still convulsed with BQbs, went deliberately back into his own room, and I heard the key turn to the door of communication. After this the fact that I doubted my husband seemed to make him less careful than he- used to be, and I observed that he waa attentive to a number of pleasant women, treating each of them with a devoted manner that Implied Chat she was the one person to the world with whom he wished to talk. I mentioned, this to him one day, saying that it was strange how many more pleasant times he bad with women than I had with men.

“Men pay me little attention,” I remarked, adding sjfltefully, “That kind of thing is not to my line.” "That is your misfortune, not my fault,” he replied tersely. Again I felt the angry tears come to my eyes. ‘lf you consider it a misfortune, I will try to remedy it!” I declared. “Good luck to you!” said John with an easy laugh. * I was as good as my w6rd, and, setting aside my prim ideas, I made myself as % agreeable to the men of the summer colony as I could. I was surprised that I found jt easy to talk nonsense when I had once acquired the habit. But, contrary to my desires, I did not succeed in making my husband jealous, nor did my 'conduct call forth a single protest from him until jnst before our return to town. It was a lovely day to early September, the last week of Sarah’s sojourn with us. John announced at the breakfast-table that he would like to go on a boating excursion that afternoon, and invited Sarah and myself to accompany him. When the hour came to start I remained above-stairs until John came up to see what was detaining me, as he and Sarah were waiting. “Aren't you ready?” he asked pleasantly. "Is Sarah going?” I inquired. "You know she is,” he said. ‘T shall not go if she goes,” I said firmly. “You must choose between us this time.” I tried to speak steadily, but failed.

"Isabel, she is-qrottr sister and your guest!” John reminded me. “And she is, apparently, your owner and yonr beat beloved!” I exclaimed. AS usual, the tears came to my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. My husband sprang forward and dropped his hands heavily on my shoulders. “Stop that!” he ordered, and I thought that he was going to shake me. "Will you go with us or will yfiu not?” "I wont go if Sarah does,” I whimpered, "and you can go down and tell her so!" He turned away abruptly. “Then we will go without you!” he declared, The sound of an automobile horn drew me to the window. Mr. Welch was coming, driving his own car. A reckless impulse sent me running down-stairs. I was dressed for tj»e outing which I had refused. I had stooped crying some, time ago, so my eyes were no longer red. I flattered myself that my pallor was rather hfloomlns - - . —' ?: >*: ■ ■ ■, ■- ■

“Well!” exclaimed Mr. Welch m l appeared on the veranda. “Where to your husband!” “Out sailing," I replied lightly. “Alone r’ “No,” I answered, trying to apeak unconcernedly, “my sister is with him. They wanted me to go, but I had a slight headache, and I feared - the glare on the water.”- ..-y. “Oh, I see,” he said musingly, and I felt that he saw more than I had told him. 1 found myself blushing under his steady gaze, and, involuntarily, I dropped my eyes. “I have a plan!” he declared. “I ‘ran over tcTask your husband to take A ride with me, hut since he to not herel will take some one I would rather have; namely, his dear little wife!” ~

“Where’s Mrs. Welch?” I asked falteringly. "Away on a visit tocher sister, so l am, for a, few days, an old bachelor whose comings and goings concern nobody but himself—and, in this case, your ladyship.” We were soon rolling along briskly between green fields and up and down wooded hills. When we had been riding for an hour and a half we drew up at the door of an attractive inn, and Mr. Welch insisted on seating me at one of the tables on the broad, vine-shaded veranda. yy The sun was low In the west when we started toward home. At the end of a half-hour something about the machine gave out, and we came to a standstill. Then I saw how good and kind the man I had once snubbed could be. There we left the automobile and strolled oyer to a country store where there was a telephone. He rang up my house, then handed me the receiver, saying: "Perhaps you would like to talk with your husband yourself.” ' It was John’s voice that answered my “Hello!” “I have been on an automobile ride,” I said, “ and hope to get home some time this evening. Don’t wait dinner for me.” “Where are you?" asked my husband. . “I don’t know,” I replied laughingly. “Who’s with your “Mr. Welch.” "Nobody else?” "No—why should there be?” "A third person improves appearances in sucji cases,” be said harshly. “So I thought when you went out this afternoon,” I remarked. • When the repaired machine waa ready, Mr. Welch proposed that, as we would reach home too late for dinner, we run over to a good inn about five miles distant and dine. I agreed. Why should I not? Our bouse was dark and quiet as the car drew up at the veranda steps. Mr. Welch helped me out and I thanked him warmly for the pleasure he had given«me.* For a moment he held my hand and looked down into my eyes. 1 had a sudden fear that he might kiss me, but he didn’t Saying again and hurriedly that the excursion had been perfect I bade my escort good night and entered the house, dosing softly behind me the door which my husband had left open for me. He was sitting by his bedroom window smoking when I went up-stairs. “Well?” he said as I entered. “Well?” I replied. „ . "Did you have an accident?" “Yes, the automobile broke down.” And, hastening through the recital, I explained, as briefly as possible, what had happened, adding that 1 remembered that he had told me to cultivate Mr. Welch, and that I had today carried out his commands.

"That was months ago,” he -reminded me. ‘1 no longer need your help so far as he is concerned, for he knows my work now, and that speaks for itself. You did not trouble -yourself to make friends with him until ypu, hot I, would benefit by it," T shrugged my shoulders. "Really," I said, “men are ungrateful creatuios! I-supposed that your patrons could still as you once phrased It, throw work to your way." - "I would prefer to have less of his patronage and a more careful wife,” he asserted roughly. "What do you mean?” * “You know what I mean. You went off with a man whose wife waa absent, and rode with him for hours, then dined with him, and came home at midnight What do you think people will say?"

“Just what they say when they see you and S&rab off on the lake alone, and sitting on the veranda together at all hours of the day and night!” When we retained to town my sister went back to' her home. A day or two after her departure she wrote to me telling me of her engagement to a Western man. They had been engaged when she came to us in June, but she had not told me, as she wanted to have “one more Jolly time” before her marriage. U Her letter came as we sat at our breakfast-table to our town bouse. As I finished reading Sarah’s news I looked across at my huaband- He was reading the sporting page of the mofntog paper. “Pardon me for Interrupting your reading,” I said stiffly, “but Sarah tells me that you have known for weeks of her engagement." p* “Yes,” he said, laying aside the paper with an Impatient sigh, “I have. By the way, I see that the Cubs were beaten again yesterday.” I ignored his bungling attempt to change the subject. “You did not tell me of Sarah’s engagement—why not?”. ; . "Because she asked me not to.” I angir exclamation.

fine my rights In this matter?” I ismended. > "The seem was hers, not mine,” bn answered. As usual, I felt the tears rising to my eyes. “You and Sarah have made a fool of me!” I exclaimed. “To think that my own sister was engaged to be married for months, and was staying right in my house, and die never told me! That was bad enough; but to know that my husband was so dishonorable as she to a kit too much!” John’s face flushed darkly. “Look out!” he warned me. “All those tears’that yon pump up so easily won’t wash that word out, do you understand?” “I don’t caret” I burst forth. “It was dishonorable!” “I hardly -think,” said John, in a low vote#, although I saw that be wee trembling with wrath, “that you are a Judge of honor.” 4 Our misery culminated one afternoon when John told me that he wished I would postpone a trip I was planning to my old home, and would give a dinner to some' of his rich, commohplace patrons who, in spite of my tardy liking for Mr. Welch, were still abhorrent to me. I refused to change my. plans. "Under the circumstances,” he said meaningly, “I think you might occaslonally sacrifice. your whims to help me.” "What circumstances?” “That I have never denied yon the nse of money I make from such people, and that your life is more luxurious because of the orders I get through them- I say that, such being . the case, you might do all in your power to assist me.” • ’1 do not consider that you are doing me such a kindness in providing me with money for my wants!” I retorted. "You could not pnt another woman in my place and pay her less than you pay me!” "So that to the way you regard your marriage, is it?” he hurst forth. “If that is your idea of it I have a right to demand that you do as I say. You will entertain toy friends when I wish, and as I wish, in this, my house!” "Your house!” I mocked. “Yes,” he roared. "My money bought it!” “Yes,” I panted, “and your money bought me, too!" Two hours later I was on my way to my old home. I had thrown into a trunk a few necessities, and bad left a note for John, saying that I doubted if I would ever return to him. I meant wbat I wrote. I also meant it when, the next day, I told my parents the truth. I had expected their sympathy. To my astonishment, my mother burst into tears. (Perhaps I got my habit of crying easily from my mother.) My father treated ms with , stern severity. He called my attention to the fact that as I had left my husband of my own accord, I could claim no support from him; that I had disgraced my parents’ name; that I was bringing unhappiness on my mother and himself in their old age. 'lt is not,” he said, "as if your husband were cruel to you. Nor can you prove that he has been unfaithful. He has maintained you in luxury. He has given you money enough to make frequent presents to your mother and myself. Not that I care for that,” he added hastily, “but I do care that you are, on account' of your temper, throwing away home and position. I wish yon had children, for then you might not be so foolish.” I was aghast I had supposed that my father would pity me. I told him so. He spoke more gently, but still firmly, jf “If your temper were under better control, and If you were more willing to make compromises, yonr life might be more useful,” remarked my blunt parent. “But, father,” I pleaded, “1 cannot make'any compromises with John! I tell you we don't love each other any longer!” "That does not alter the tact that you are bound to each other,” he stated with a narrowness that maddened me. For six weeks no word came from John. Then, one morning, the village carrier brought me a letter in my husband’s bandwriting. I went up-stairs to my cold room and read John’s letter. It was a plain statement of facts. He reminded me that I bad left him without sufficient provocation, and in a fit of temper, and that, as this was the case, I would never have any right while I remained apart from him to demand his financial help, even if my pride would allow me to do so. In the first heat of anger he had told himself that he was_glad I was gone. Later, as he grew saner, he had hoped that I would come to my senses and return home without making any public scandal. "I acknowledge,” he wrote, “that I hope you will see that it is to your interest and mine that you return. 1 do not deny that I have often been in fault. Indeed we have both gotten on each other’s nerves until it would be ridiculous for either to lay all the blame on the other. "But let me drop bygones and get down to hard facts. If j%u choose to come back and behave yourself, I will try to behave myself. I have offered to meet you half-way. Let toe know yonr decision at once.” The next 1 took g the^train matches are msde to heaven they lighMhe toes of toeM very effectual l * ■