第98章 THE SKETCH BOOK(3)

"Like an angel! It seemed rather to be a relief to her mind, for shethrew her arms round my neck, and asked if this was all that hadlately made me unhappy.- But, poor girl," added he, "she cannotrealize the change we must undergo. She has no idea of poverty butin the abstract; she has only read of it in poetry, where it is alliedto love. She feels as yet no privation; she suffers no loss ofaccustomed conveniences nor elegancies. When we come practically toexperience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations-then will be the real trial.""But," said I, "now that you have got over the severest task, thatof breaking it to her, the sooner you let the world into the secretthe better. The disclosure may be mortifying; but then it is asingle misery, and soon over: whereas you otherwise suffer it, inanticipation, every hour in the day. It is not poverty so much aspretence, that harasses a ruined man- the struggle between a proudmind and an empty purse- the keeping up a hollow show that must sooncome to an end. Have the courage to appear poor and you disarm povertyof its sharpest sting." On this point I found Leslie perfectlyprepared. He had no false pride himself, and as to his wife, she wasonly anxious to conform to their altered fortunes.

Some days afterwards he called upon me in the evening. He haddisposed of his dwelling house, and taken a small cottage in thecountry, a few miles from town. He had been busied all day insending out furniture. The new establishment required few articles,and those of the simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his lateresidence had been sold, excepting his wife's harp. That, he said, wastoo closely associated with the idea of herself; it belonged to thelittle story of their loves; for some of the sweetest moments of theircourtship were those when he had leaned over that instrument, andlistened to the melting tones of her voice. I could not but smile atthis instance of romantic gallantry in a doting husband.

He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife had been all daysuperintending its arrangement. My feelings had become stronglyinterested in the progress of this family story, and, as it was a fineevening, I offered to accompany him.

He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and, as he walkedout, fell into a fit of gloomy musing.

"Poor Mary!" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from his lips.

"And what of her?" asked I: "has anything happened to her?""What," said he, darting an impatient glance, "is it nothing to bereduced to this paltry situation- to be caged in a miserablecottage- to be obliged to toil almost in the menial concerns of herwretched habitation?""Has she then repined at the change?"

"Repined! she has been nothing but sweetness and good humor. Indeed,she seems in better spirits than I have ever known her; she has beento me all love, and tenderness, and comfort!""Admirable girl!" exclaimed I. "You call yourself poor, my friend;you never were so rich- you never knew the boundless treasures ofexcellence you possess in that woman.""Oh! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the cottage were over,I think I could then be comfortable. But this is her first day of realexperience; she has been introduced into a humble dwelling- she hasbeen employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments- shehas, for the first time, known the fatigues of domestic employment-she has, for the first time, looked round her on a home destitute ofevery thing elegant,- almost of every thing convenient; and may now besitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect offuture poverty."There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could notgainsay, so we walked on in silence.

After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, so thickly shadedwith forest trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we camein sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appearance forthe most pastoral poet; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wildvine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few treesthrew their branches gracefully over it; and I observed several potsof flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass-plotin front. A small wicket gate opened upon a footpath that woundthrough some shrubbery to the door. Just as we approached, we heardthe sound of music- Leslie grasped my arm; we paused and listened.

It was Mary's voice singing, in a style of the most touchingsimplicity, a little air of which her husband was peculiarly fond.

I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped forward to hearmore distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel walk. A brightbeautiful face glanced out at the window and vanished- a lightfootstep was heard and Mary came tripping forth to meet us: she was ina pretty rural dress of white; a few wild flowers were twisted inher fine hair; a fresh bloom was on her cheek; her whole countenancebeamed with smiles- I had never seen her look so lovely.

"My dear George," cried she, "I am so glad you are come! I have beenwatching and watching for you; and running down the lane, andlooking out for you. I've set out a table under a beautiful treebehind the cottage; and I've been gathering some of the most deliciousstrawberries, for I know you are fond of them- and we have suchexcellent cream- and every thing is so sweet and still here- Oh!" saidshe, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in hisface, "Oh, we shall be so happy!"Poor Leslie was overcome. He caught her to his bosom- he foldedhis arms round her- he kissed her again and again- he could not speak,but the tears gushed into his eyes; and he has often assured me,that though the world has since gone prosperously with him, and hislife has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced amoment of more exquisite felicity.

THE END

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1819-20