George Element's Wife,

Tuapeka Times, Volume VI, Issue 279, 5 June 1873, Page 7

George Element's Wife,

o "Of all the things, this is the worst ! If I ever in all my life expected to hear 'such news ! Why our George has gone and got manied ! D'ye hear ?" Good Mrs. Clements pushed her steel-bowed spectacles off her bright eyes, and droppp^. her letter in her lap, as she turned round to her husband, the stout clever old farmer, who was contentedly stroking the old white cat. " Deacon, d'ye hear ?" This time when she asked the question, there was a touch of sharpness in her voice. " Yes ; what if he is married ? I'm sure it's natural enough. It kind o' runs in the family, 'pears to me." But Mrs. Clements would take no notice of the little pleasantry. " Well, if you like it, I can tell you I don't. He needn't think he's coming bere, with his fine city-bred lady, all airs and graces, and flounces aud fluted ruffles. There's plenty of good girls hereabout that wanted him. Eight in the middle of work, too ! to talk of bringing a lady here in hgo killin' time ! Ido declare, I think George is a fool ! " * # # * * A graceful, dainty little lady, in a garnet poplin and ruffled agrou, with a small proudly poised head, covered with short, dusky curls, and a pair of dark blue eyes, so wistful and tender, a tiny rose-bud o* a mouth, and a dimple in one pink c^eek. That was Mrs. Marion Clements. Was it any wonder that George has fallen in love with her ? She sat iD the bright little parlor, close beside the lace curtained window, watching for the loved husband's return; and then, ceheu she heard the clink of the latch key in the hall, flew for the welcome kiss. "Havn't you the letter this time, George ! I've felt sure of it all day. Indeed, I've quite decided what dresses to take with me." He smiled and shook his head. A cloud passed over her pretty face. " O (xeorge, isn't it too bad ? And I do believe, oh, I do believe, they won't write because they are sorry you married me ?" He put hia arm around her neck. "And supposing such be the case, do you thiuk it would make any difference to me?" " Oh, no ! no ! only it would grieve me so if I knew tnnt I had alienated your own parents from you." j "Aad a one-sided alienation it would be, tot ! They have never seen }'ou ! And ™' li en they know you they can't help loving you." " 0 George ! " And the exclamation was caused by the kiss accompanying his loving flattery. " Taat's true as preaching. By the by, my dear, what would you say if the firm sent me off on a travelling tour of six weeks ? " A little dismayed cry answered him. " You won't stay here alone, eh ? Bur, Marion, it would be five hundred dollars clear gain to us." " What need we care for money ? I'd rather have you." A mischievous smile played on the young man's lips ; he was more matter-of-fact than this romantic, tender little wife ofhis. " I tliink the addittion to our balance ■at the banker's would be very consoling for the absence. But never mind, little pet ; Let's go down to dinner. I bope we'll get a letter from home soon!" And soon it was; for Marion snatched it from his coat- pocket the very next night. But her husband's face looked very grave and stern, and his eyes looked atigry when she looked gleefully over the envelope. "My dear, you must remember I care very little for what the letter contains. JJemetnber I did not write it ; that you are dearer to me than ever before. Kiss me first, while I watch you." A little pang of misdoubt troubled her when abe glanced over the note ; then tears stole from under her lashes, and George saw her tender mouth quiver and tremble ; then when she had finished it, she laid her head down on bis shoulder and cried. j " It was cruel to let you see it, my wounded birdie. Let me burn it. And don't forget, darling, what our Bible says, • that a man shall leave father and mother, and cleave to his wife.' • You are my precious wife, Marion, and to you I turn for all the happiness my life will ever hold." He dried her tears and then they talked it over. " Just because lam city-bred, she thinks lam lazy, and haughty, and dainty and"— " Never mind, Marion. She will find out some day. My father "—" — j " Yes, bless the dear old man ! He has added : 'My love to my daughter ' Marion.' Oh, I know I should love him, and your mother . too, if she would 1-tme." " George, dear, I have been thinking about that trip west. I thiuk you had better go and leave me at home. It won't be so very long." Marion was eating her egg while she spoke across the cozy little tete-a-tete breakfast table. " Spoken like my true little Marion, and when I come back I'll bring you a present. What nhall ifc be ?" " Your mother and father from the

farm. It shall be that hope that will bear me company when you are gone." A fortnight after that Marion Clements ate her breakfast alone, the traces of a tear or so on her pink cheek ; then she dashed them away with a merry, joyous little laugh. 11 This will never do, and now that George has gone for six weeks, to prepare for his return. And I pray heaven it shall be such a coming as shall delight his very soul." ######## "I'm sure [ don't know what to say. The Lord knows I need help bad enough, but it 'pears to me such a slender little midget as you could'nt earn your salt. What did you say your name was ?" " Mary Smith. And indeed if you will try me for a week, I am sure you will keep me till the season's over." Mrs. Clements looked out of the window at the great clouds that were piling gloomily up ; and then the wind gave a great wailing shriek around the corners of the house. " You can cook, ken you ? or shake up feather beds — good big ones, forty pounders ?" A gleeful little laugh came from Mary's face. " Indeed I can. I may not cook to suit you, but I can learn." Mrs. Clements walked out of the huge open fireplace in the kitchen, where the deacon was shelb'ng corn." " What d'ye say, deacon, keep her or no ? I kind o' like her looks, and the dear knows it 'ud be a good lift while we're killin', if she couldn't do more'n set the table, or make the mush j fur the bread." ' "Take her, of course, Hannah. You are hard driv' I know. Let her stop a week or bo anyhow." So Mrs. Clements came slowly back and sat down again. " You cau't get away to-night, any how, there's a storm been blowing these three days, and it's on us now sure enough. See them 'ere flakes, fine and thick. You may as well take your thiugs upstairs to the west garret, and then come down and help ] me to get supper." Then followed directions to the west garret, and when she was gone, Mrs. Clements turned to the deacou : " I uever saw a girl before I'd trust upstairs alone. But such as her don't I steal ; I can tell you that if nothing else.]' Directly she eaine down in a purple print dress and white apron ; her hair brushed off from b^r face into a net ; a narrow linen collar, fastened with a sailor's loop of narrow black ribbon. It seemed as if she had life, too, so handily she flitted in and out of the big pantry and then down the cellar. Then after the meal, she gathered the dishes in a neat, silent way, that was perfect bliss to Mrs. Clement's ears. "She's determined to earn her bread anyhow ; and I like her turn too." And the deacon had " taken a shine "to Mary Smith. One by one the days wore off; the hog killing was over and done; long strings of sausages huug in fantastic rings, arranged by Mary's deft fingers : sweet hams and shoulders were piled away in true housewifely manner, and now Mary and Mrs. Clements were sitting in the sunuy dining-room, darning, patching and mending. " I don't know what I am going to do without you, Mary ; I dread to see you pack up your clothes." A blush of pleasure overspread Mary's face. "I am so glad you have been suited with my work. Indeed, I have tried." " It ain't the work altogether, though goodness knows you're the smartest gal I've seen this many a day. As I say, it ain't the work, it's you, Mary. I've got to thinking a heap of you — mo and the deacon." Mary's voice trembled at the kindness of the old lady's voice, but she sewed rapidly on. •' Its so uncommon lonesome since the boy left the farm ; but it's worse since he got married. It seems like deserting us altogether." "Have you a son? You never mentioned him." " No. George has gone his way, ! and we must go ours. Yea, he married one of those crack-headed board-ing-school people, who can't tell the I difference between a rolling-pin and a milking-pan'" | But despite her scorn, Mrs Clements dashed off the tears with her brown fist. "Is his wife pretty? I suppose you love her dearly." j " I don't know anything about her, and nover want to know. He's left us for her, and us old folks will leave him for her too. Mary just turn them cakes around ; and see if they're burning." When Mary had turned the cakes, Mrs. Clements was leaning on the arm of her chair. " Mary, supposin' you stop with us another month yet, anyhow. The deacon will make it all right." "It isn't the money I care for, Mrs. Clements, I only wish I might stay always. You don't know how much I love you." " Love us !do you ? Bh ss your heart. If poor George had only picked you out, what a comfort it would be to us all! But it can't be helped now." She sighed wearily, then glanced

out of the window, looked a moment and then threw down her work. " Bless my soul, if there ain't our son George- coming up the lane ! Deacon I deacon ! George is coming !" And all her mother-love rushing to her heart, she hurried out to meet him. Oh, the welcoming, the reproaches, the caresses, the determination to love him still, despite poor innocent little Marion. Then when the table had been set in the next room by Mary's deft fingers, and she , had returned to her "west garret," Mrs. Clements opened her heart. " There's no use talkin,' George, this fine, faucy lady o' yours '11 never suit me. Give me a smart girl like Mary Smith, and I'll ask no more. Come in to supper now. Mary, Mary." She raised her voice to call the girl, when a low voice near her surprised her. " Oh, you dressed up in honor o' my boy. Well, I must confess I never knew you had such a handsome dress, and you look like a picture with your net off, and them short, bobbin' curls ! George, this is Mary Smith, my" — George came through the door, and glanced carelessly at the corner where the young woman Blood. Then, with a cry, sprang with outstretched arms to meet the little figure that spraug into them. The deacon and Mrs. Clements stood in speechless amazement. Then Marion, all blushes and tearful smiles, went over to the old pair and took tkeir hands. "I am George's wife. I was so afraid you would never love me, so I came determined to win you if i could. Mother, father, may I be your daughter?" And a happier family, when they had exhausted their power of surprise, amazement and pride in the beautiful Marion, uever gave thanks over the supper table.