LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 616, 9 June 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

~ .■ t BENIGNA. A. Tale op Village Lite. Chapter IL George now had the loveliest wife in all the country round, and if he was before one '6f the best , and most valuable workmen in the forge, there seemed now to be a new force added to him. As he stood there barearmed, wielding his great hammer, with the forge fire flaming, up behind him—as he took the glowing iron from, the furnace, and ..struck-it bn the anvil again and again, singing and striking in time with., his fellow workmen, it was a real pleasure to“ see him. But there was an unamiablespirit at .home. 4 ' JC - • " L ‘ The mother complained to her son that Benigna never by any chance gave her a word of thanks for any service she rendered her, and yet she slaved for hef like a servant ; nay, like two; Benigna merely accepted her . aid as a matter of course. George urged, in extenuation, that Benigna, being a seamstress, was far from handy in household matters ; that these, indeed, would interfere with her daintierhandiwork; but the mother maintained that Benigna might at least say, ‘ That is right, mother,’ or, ‘You have done just what She insisted, moreover,That" Benigna detested her. ‘I fear, I fear,’ sighed she, ‘your wife will never be gentle and kind until some great misfortune comes to her; and, alas ! a Maiofoi tuijLo' tliat oomes to her will come to you also, iny son.’ Benigna, on the other hand, kept up constant complaints against the mother,. and George had many heavy griefs. He honored his mother, land loved his wife above all things. Benigna now became more and more soured, and George was deeply hurt that she systematically refused to suffer the mother to accompany them on any little party of pleasure or excursion got up among his fellow-workmen.

When George spoke to her about it, she said his mother had incited him to scold her; and then when she wept over his hardheartedness, he was inconsolable, and her sought her to forgive him, and be once more friendly and cheerful. Thus a year passed away. The mother complained, and Benigna complained, and George tried to console himself and them with the thought that all would be well if there were but a little child in the house.

It was a new shock to George when his wife said she hoped she would never bo a mother ;mhe -should preserve her beauty if she never had a child. - For many days after this George went about like one forlorn, and in the forge his formerly steady,- regular stroke'failed to keep time 'with that of his companion, "His" mother, who saw his vexation—Benigna was perfectly indifferent on the subject—toid hiin she would really try to go to her sister,"hut begged him not to say a word to his wife, as, in qase she was compelled to return,, jier ;Servitude would fee rendered doublybiften' Gfeorge promised,- and, during the" days of his mother’s absence, all.was. cheerfulness and smiles in the little cottage. Benigna exerted all her, power to charm and soothe hdr husband, though she gave him a cruel pang when she said, *We might always live thus, if only your mother were out of the way.’ ‘ You mean if. she were with her sister, I -suppose ~ . ‘Of course,’ said she hurriedly, with a forced smile. All at once it seemed to George that his wife’s handsome face was disturbed,; still he couldmotj account lor the impulse ; but so it was—Tie communicated to his wife the fact that-his mother had no intention of returning. On. hearing this, such evident delight -ahoweffltself iri her face that he could not put the cup of coffee she had just given him to his lips, bht put it down as though her . evil look had poispned it.

But he constrained himself, and while they were still at breakfast the mother came back', George received her cordially, conscious that he had betrayed her confidence. Ho made a sign to his wife not to allude to what had passed and went to his work. When they were alone, and just as the old woman was in the act of raising her cup to her lips, Benigna said to, ‘ Mother-in-law, you might as well take your goat with you.’ ‘My goat; why 7" «You are quite right to gather your things together and go and live with your sister’ Mother Bridget gazed on her in silence, put down her untasted cup, and went up to her own little room. It was noon before Benigna sought her } she found her sitting on her bed, weeping and wringing her hands. Benigna did not relent, only telling her she must come down to dinner, as she should not send When Benigna sat down to table with the little girl who helped her in the housework, they saw the moth r leave the house with a tottering step, the goa following her.

; ‘ShaU I can her back?’Mkedthe little igiriV ‘. •! ':.t~ flies 'No; she will come back of her own ja&cbr4,ll''V It u ii iff sro:brai3’OtKv<i' i The. mother’.intended to go down, to the forge to reproach her eon for hie treachery, hot when she got as far as the hill,she sat down, and prayed the Lord to let her die there, sooner than she should stir up more bitterness in her son's lot.

She waited till George came by; he led her back to the house, and she sat down at the table and ate with them as though nothing had happened. Weeks andmonths passed by. It was very quiet in George's, home; but heof ten observed to his wife that the mother failed and grew feeble day by day; Beuigna shrugged her shoulders. < -

* I fear she will not livelong,’ said George. *lt is in thei Order of things that old people should die/ -Benigna answered coldly. 'Woman,' cried George,' 'do not speak so r, ‘ I am .not irreverent, c I.only hope I shall die before !am old and withered. For one to .go about, the world, and not enjoy oneself, it. would be.much better to be oat of the fl wilf not reproach you with this speech, as you never knew a mother,' answered George. # . ‘ You should really sit -down to my embroidery frame, and let me wprk. at the forge. You are more like a tailor than a blacksmith,’ said Beuigna, and there the conversation ended. • , .1* At length Mother Bridget could, po longer move about, and gradually sank;: on a Sick bed. One day-she called her son to her and begged him to tellher truly whether Benigna had really commissioned Mm to convey an apology. He admitted it was a fabrication. ‘lt is well,’ said the mother, ‘lam,contented, ’ And she would say no more on the subject. George told his wife that the longremembered insult still weighed on .Ms mother’s heart, entreating her to make all good before it should be too late. But Benigna sneered at Mm, ridiculed Ms bring- lf , ing up an old story, and vehemently urged Mm not to take to heart so grevionsly an event which was merely in the course of nature— * For,’ she added, ‘it is mnch the best for old people to die and be out of the way.’

George told her that if she continued to think and feel thus, he should forsake her, and wander out into the wide world alone.

Benigna laughed and said, 'Yep would turn when you came to the hazel bush, and.owne back to me. You never could leave me*-

George sent for his mother’s sister,' and he and she were with the dying woman to the last. She was speechless for the last few days, and George closed her eyes. > He then came down and told his wife that all was over. She turned away and looked out’ of the window. Then she went to him and stroked his face with her soft hand, saying, ‘You are looking ten years older than you did a few weeks since. Cheer up, and be a man, such an old husband won’t suit me at all,

A word spoken in times gone by, came vividly to ’ George’s remembrance, and he asked himself whether a , woman capable of such thoughts at such a time, would love and-comfort him when he should be old and feeble. He resisted this wretched thought, and said : - , . _ ■ - -

1 1 will only ask one thing of you—during my mother’s life-time you never made her ni|nd easy as to your insulting conduct to her, now for my sake go up and whisper a word of regret to the dead, and look into her dear face, which, is as calm as an angel’s.* ; . n: ?

‘ I will not go—up, -I will not look at a corpse—l cannot do it—no one shall see me after lam dead.* In spite of George’s renewed entreaties and -prayero; ’" fused to enter the chamber of death. The whole night George sat by the corpse of his mother, and the thought goaded’him almost to madness that he would watch thns until , the last offices were paid to her remains, and then forsake his wife; and while he thus de-

termined the beauty of his Wife came vividly to his mind’s eye, and all their past happiness, and how blessed he might still be with her. The death bell tolled—mother

Bridget was bomei to her grave. George stood with the relations and friends of the

deceased in the little sitting-room. Benigna had put on her black crape veil, and l at this moment his eye chanced to rest on her, and he saw that she looked coquettishly in the glass, and nodded to herself with 'a cpm? placent air, for the . mourning set off her , _ fair complexion. He clenched his fists/ and felt as though he -must first shatter that lovely image in the- mirror, and titan ium . and destroy the living face beside hizhi; 1 His heart contracted painfully; he was gneved to have such thoughts at such a time, and tried to persuade himself that he must have been mistaken—she surely could not have been intent on her own beauty at Such a solemn hour. Then he heard Benigna say . ... to her aunt ‘Just put in another pm here, ‘ that the veil may not. come too .much over, my forehead.* This was more than he could bear, and he fell fainting to the ground. He r was raised up, and two men supported him while he followed the coffin to the grave.

When Benigna addressed him with ‘ George, what is the matter ? Be a man ; control yourself J ’ he felt as if all the forge hammers were beating In his head. Per voice sounded harsh and jarring, Hewalked behind the corpse of his mother, and the fair face of his wife seemed to hover air before him like a spectre —an eternal vjsion of horror. Her beauty had become hateful to him. ..He would, never rejoice in it-r „ never more. He tried to fix his thoughts on his mother’s death; but the lovely airy vision danced before his eyes, and confused his thoughts.; They returned from' the funeral. George sat down to table with his wife and the rest of the party, but he never ? glanced at Benigna, and his heart trembled whenever he heard : her voice, .flight came on He went up to his mother s room and sat down on her bed, and buried his face in bis hands. Benigna came to him with a light. . . « Put out the light 1 ’ he cried. < why ? ’ • I will not see your face. I cannot look at yon. Put out the light!’ ‘ Don’t be absurd/ said Benigna, by way of consolation, ‘you will see how pleasantly we shall get on now, you and I, by ourselves/ «We two 1 - that cannot be ; the dead stands between us ! ’ cried George ; and approaching her he tore the light out of her hand and flung it on the floor. 4 All is at an end between us/ he said. r < You must be crazy, I think,* answered Benigna. {To be continued.)