A Knight of the Nineteenth Century | Page 9

bound to
obey the letter of the law of marriage, but who cannot fulfil its spirit.
For years Mrs. Arnot had sought with all a woman's tact to
consummate their marriage, so that the mystical words of God, "And
they twain shall be one flesh," should describe their union; but as time
passed she had seen her task grow more and more hopeless. The
controlling principles of each life were utterly different. He was
hardening into stone, while the dross and materiality of her nature were
being daily refined away. A strong but wholly selfish character cannot
blend by giving and taking, and thus becoming modified into
something different and better. It can only absorb, and thus drag down
to its own condition. Before there can be unity the weaker one must
give up and yield personal will and independence to such a degree that
it is almost equivalent to being devoured and assimilated.
But Mr. Arnot seemed to grow too narrow and self-sufficient in his
nature for such spiritual cannibalism, even had his wife been a weak,
neutral character, with no decided and persistent individuality of her
own. He was not slow in exacting outward and mechanical service, but
he had no time to "bother" with her thoughts, feelings, and opinions;
nor did he think it worth while, to any extent, to lead her to reflect only
his feelings and opinions. Neither she nor any one else was very
essential to him. His business was necessary, and he valued it even
more than the wealth which resulted from it. He grew somewhat like
his machinery, which needed attention, but which cherished no
sentiments toward those who waited on it during its hours of motion.
Thus, though not deliberately intending it, his manner toward his wife
had come to be more and more the equivalent of a steady black frost,
and she at last feared that the man had congealed or petrified to his very
heart's core.
While the only love in Mr. Arnot's heart was self-love, even in this
there existed no trace of weak indulgence and tenderness. His life
consisted in making his vast and complicated business go forward
steadily, systematically, and successfully; and he would not permit that

entity known as Thomas Arnot to thwart him any more than he would
brook opposition or neglect in his office-boy. All things, even himself,
must bend to the furtherance of his cherished objects.
But, whatever else was lacking, Mr. Arnot had a profound respect for
his wife. First and chiefly, she was wealthy, and he, having control of
her property, made it subservient to his business. He had chafed at first
against what he termed her "sentimental ways of doing good" and her
"ridiculous theories," but in these matters he had ever found her as
gentle as a woman, but as unyielding as granite. She told him plainly
that her religious life and its expression were matters between herself
and God--that it was a province into which his cast-iron system and
material philosophy could not enter. He grumbled at her large charities,
and declared that she "turned their dwelling into a club-house for young
men"; but she followed her conscience with such a quiet, unswerving
dignity that he found no pretext for interference. The money she gave
away was her own, and fortunately, the house to which it was her
delight to draw young men from questionable and disreputable places
of resort had been left to her by her father. Though she did not
continually remind her husband of these facts, as an under-bred woman
might have done, her manner was so assured and unhesitating that he
was compelled to recognize her rights, and to see that she was fully
aware of them also. Since she yielded so gracefully and considerately
all and more than he could justly claim, he finally concluded to ignore
what he regarded as her "peculiarities." As for himself, he had no
peculiarities. He was a "practical, sensible man, with no nonsense about
him."
Mrs. Haldane had been in such sore straits and perplexity about her son
that she overcame her habitual reserve upon family and personal
matters, and wrote to her friend a long and confidential letter, in which
she fully described the "mysterious providence" which was clouding
her life.
Mrs. Arnot had long been aware of her friend's infirmity, and more than
once had sought with delicacy and yet with faithfulness to open her
eyes to the consequences of her indulgence. But Mrs. Haldane,

unfortunately, was incapable of taking a broad, and therefore correct,
view of anything. She was governed far more by her prejudices and
feelings than by reason or experience, and the emotion or prejudice
uppermost absorbed her mind so completely as to exclude all other
considerations. Her friendship for Mrs. Arnot had