A Country Idyl and Other Stories. Bolton Sarah Knowles
ago. I wanted to see if you loved me, as I believed you did. I hope and believe you do still. You know me better than any one else, and you know whether I should care tenderly for your children. If you are willing to come and brighten my home, say so. How I longed to fold you in my arms as I left you, but restrained myself! Telegraph me if I shall come to take you.
A message was sent from Nineveh: “Come.”
The Crandall home has fallen like the others. The flower-beds have vanished, save here and there a self-sown golden coreopsis grows among the weeds. The moon shines silently upon the mill as of old. The few remaining aged people of Nineveh still tell of the faithful love of John Harding for the miller’s adopted daughter.
THE SECOND TIME
THE HON. John Crawford had become a prominent man in his community. He had begun life in poverty, had learned economy early, and fortunately had married a girl with tastes and habits similar to his own. Both desired to rise in the world, and she, forgetting herself, bent all her energies toward his progress and success. She did her own housework for years, made her own clothes and those of her children, and in every way saved, that John might be rich and influential. Her history was like that of thousands of other New England women – she wore herself out for her family. She never had time for social life, and not a very great amount of time for reading, though she kept up as well as possible with the thought of the day; but her one aim was to have her husband honored.
John Crawford was a good husband, though not always considerate. He thought nobody quite so good and helpful as Betsey, nobody cooked so well, nobody was more saving, and he was proud to rise by her help. He failed sometimes to consider how large a matter that help had been in his life. If he had been asked who made his money he would have replied without hesitation, “I made it.” That Betsey was entitled to half, or even a third, would never have occurred to him. He provided for her and the children all they seemed to need. He was the head of the family, and that headship had made him somewhat selfish and domineering.
As the children grew older, and Mrs. Crawford looked out into the future and realized the possibility of leaving the world before her husband, she thought much of their condition under a changed home. Mr. Crawford would marry again, probably, and her children might have little or none of the property which they together had struggled to earn.
One evening she said, as they sat before the open fire, the children having gone to bed: “John, it seems to me things are unequal in the world. You and I have worked hard, and I have been proud to have you succeed. We both love the children, and want everything done for them. What if I should die, and you should marry again and have other children?”
“Why, Betsey! You don’t think I could forget our own precious children? No second wife could or would influence me against my children. You and I have worked together, and I should feel dishonorable to leave them helpless and care for others. You must think me a villain.”
“Oh, no, John! But I have seen cases like that. Only the other day the Rev. Cornelius Jones married a young wife, and gave her all his property, leaving nothing to his three daughters. Now, if a minister would do that, what should we expect of others?”
“There must have been peculiar circumstances. He could not have been in his right mind.”
“You know, John, if you were to die I should receive a third of what I have helped you earn, and the rest would go to the children; while if I were to die nothing would go to the children. I should like to have at least the third which the law considers mine go to them at my death, as it does in some countries of the Old World, where a man cannot marry a second time till he has settled a portion on his first children.”
“But that would be a great inconvenience,” replied Mr. Crawford. “A man has money in business, and to take out a third if his wife dies might sadly embarrass him. Or even the use of a third, set apart for them, might cripple him.”
“Better that there be a little inconvenience than a wrong done to children,” said Mrs. Crawford. “The husband may lose every cent of what the wife has struggled and saved all her life to help him accumulate. Marriage is a partnership, and, like other partnerships, must suffer some change and inconvenience, it may be, if one of the partners dies. There must, necessarily, be a new adjustment of interests.”
“But the law allows you to make a will and give away your property, my dear, just as it does me.”
“Yes, what I have inherited before or since my marriage; but I have inherited none, and you have not. We have made ours together, and you have often said that you owe as much to my skill and economy as to your foresight and ability.”
“And so I do, it is true; but the law makes no provision about our common property.”
“But make it yourself then, John, if the law does not. Make a will so that in case of my death my two daughters shall have at least a third of all you are worth at that time, or, if you prefer, put a third – I might feel that it ought to be half – in my name, or perhaps the home, and let that go to our daughters.”
“But if I put the home in your name, so that in case of losses something would be saved from creditors, I should want it willed back to me at your death, so that I could still have a home and do as I liked with it.”
“And then nothing would go to the children at my death? That is not fair, John, and I have worked too hard and long to be willing.”
“Well, Betsey, you can trust me to do the right thing. I will think it over,” and he kissed her as they closed the not altogether satisfactory conversation.
As was to be expected, Betsey Crawford broke down from the wear and tear of life, and died, leaving her two daughters to the care of a fond and not ungenerous father. The loss was a great one to John Crawford. She had been his competent adviser, with tact and good sense to keep matters right. She had guided more than he ever suspected. He mourned her sincerely, as did her two devoted daughters.
He was lonely, and in time married again, a woman considerably younger than himself, a member of the same church, an ambitious and not over-scrupulous woman. When her son was born she became desirous that every advantage should be placed before him, that he might attain to wealth and honor. She convinced Mr. Crawford in a thousand nameless ways that the boy would need most of the property for business, to marry well, and to carry down the family name. The girls would doubtless marry and be well provided for by their husbands. She talked with Mr. Crawford about the uncertainty of life, and, with tact, urged that other things besides a spiritual preparation for death were necessary. A man should think of the younger members of his family who would be left comparatively helpless.
People said that the strong-willed John Crawford had become very much under the sway of his younger wife; that he had grown less dominant, more appreciative, and more thoughtful of her needs and wishes. He idolized his son, but he seemed no dearer than the daughters of Betsey. He was a more expensive child, for he needed all sorts of playthings, the best schooling, the best clothes, and a somewhat large amount of spending money. It was evident that John Crawford, Jr., would require more money than his half-sisters.
In course of time, Mr. Crawford, having served a term in Congress through good ability and the discreet use of money in organizing his forces, and having done well for his constituency, followed Betsey to the other world. To the surprise of all save the second Mrs. Crawford the property was left to her and her son, with the merest remembrance to the unmarried daughters of hard-working Betsey Crawford.
“I wouldn’t have thought it,” said a prominent lady in the church. “Why, John Crawford was a deacon, and professed to live according to right and justice! There must have been undue influence. His first wife worked like a slave to help earn that money. I never supposed a man would be unfair to his children.”
“You never can tell what folks will do,” said another church member. “Youth and tact are great forces in the world. John Crawford never meant to be unjust, but he couldn’t help it. A third of that property ought to have gone to those daughters. Why didn’t his wife make him fix it before she died?”
“Maybe she tried, who knows?” said the person addressed. “If the law didn’t make him do his duty,