The Argonauts of North Liberty | Page 9

of her little hand, kneeling down on
the scrupulously well-swept carpet to peck up with a bird-like action of
her thumb and forefinger an escaped atom here and there. These and
the contents of her hand she poured into the chilly cavity of a
sepulchral-looking alabaster vase that stood on the etagere. Returning
to her old seat, and making a nest for her clasped fingers in the lap of
her dress, she remained in that attitude, her shoulders a little narrowed
and bent forward, until her husband returned.

"I've lit the fire in the bedroom for you to change your clothes by," she
said, as he entered; then evading the caress which this wifely attention
provoked, by bending still more primly over her book, she added, "Go
at once. You're making everything quite damp here."
He returned in a few moments in his slippers and jacket, but evidently
found the same difficulty in securing a conjugal and confidential
contiguity to his wife. There was no apparent social centre or nucleus
of comfort in the apartment; its fireplace, sealed by an iron ornament
like a monumental tablet over dead ashes, had its functions superseded
by an air-tight drum in the corner, warmed at second-hand from the
dining-room below, and offered no attractive seclusion; the sofa against
the wall was immovable and formally repellent. He was obliged to
draw a chair beside the table, whose every curve seemed to facilitate
his wife's easy withdrawal from side-by-side familiarity.
"Demorest has been urging me very strongly to go to California, but, of
course, I spoke of you," he said, stealing his hand into his wife's lap,
and possessing himself of her fingers.
Mrs. Blandford slowly lifted her fingers enclosed in his clasping hand
and placed them in shameless publicity on the volume before her. This
implied desecration was too much for Blandford; he withdrew his hand.
"Does that man propose to go with you?" asked Mrs. Blandford, coldly.
"No; he's preoccupied with other matters that he wanted me to talk to
you about," said her husband, hesitatingly. "He is--"
"Because"--continued Mrs. Blandford in the same measured tone, "if he
does not add his own evil company to his advice, it is the best he has
ever given yet. I think he might have taken another day than the Lord's
to talk about it, but we must not despise the means nor the hour whence
the truth comes. Father wanted me to take some reasonable moment to
prepare you to consider it seriously, and I thought of talking to you
about it to-morrow. He thinks it would be a very judicious plan. Even
Deacon Truesdail--"

"Having sold his invoice of damaged sugar kettles for mining purposes,
is converted," said Blandford, goaded into momentary testiness by his
wife's unexpected acquiescence and a sudden recollection of
Demorest's prophecy. "You have changed your opinion, Joan, since last
fall, when you couldn't bear to think of my leaving you," he added
reproachfully.
"I couldn't bear to think of your joining the mob of lawless and sinful
men who use that as an excuse for leaving their wives and families. As
for my own feelings, Edward, I have never allowed them to stand
between me and what I believed best for our home and your Christian
welfare. Though I have no cause to admire the influence that I find this
man, Demorest, still holds over you, I am willing to acquiesce, as you
see, in what he advises for your good. You can hardly reproach ME,
Edward, for worldly or selfish motives.
Blandford felt keenly the bitter truth of his wife's speech. For the
moment he would gladly have exchanged it for a more illogical and
selfish affection, but he reflected that he had married this religious girl
for the security of an affection which he felt was not subject to the
temptations of the world--or even its own weakness--as was too often
the case with the giddy maidens whom he had known through
Demorest's companionship. It was, therefore, more with a sense of
recalling this distinctive quality of his wife than any loyalty to
Demorest that he suddenly resolved to confide to her the latter's fatuous
folly.
"I know it, dear," he said, apologetically, "and we'll talk it over
to-morrow, and it may be possible to arrange it so that you shall go
with me. But, speaking of Demorest, I think you don't quite do HIM
justice. He really respects YOUR feelings and your knowledge of right
and wrong more than you imagine. I actually believe he came here
to-night merely to get me to interest you in an extraordinary love affair
of his. I mean, Joan," he added hastily, seeing the same look of dull
repression come over her face, "I mean, Joan--that is, you know, from
all I can