Between Two Loves. Amelia E. Barr
his daughter's portion. Riding slowly through Aske's lands, Burley got a view of his son-in-law's side of the quarrel; and he was more just to him than he had been in Burley House and in Burley Mills. He even began to suspect that Eleanor might have been trying. He remembered certain times in his own experience when she had been beyond everything so, and he made up his mind to give no encouragement to her unreasonable demands, for he was quite sure now they were in the main unreasonable.
But when a man reckons up a woman in her absence, his decisions are very apt to amount to nothing when brought face to face with her. Just as soon as Burley met his daughter she trained her influence over him. She was sitting in her own parlor, a dainty room full of all sorts of pretty luxuries, and sweet with stands of exquisite flowers. Never had she seemed so radiantly beautiful in his eyes. Her flowing robe of soft scarlet merino gave a wonderful brilliancy to the snow and rose of her complexion and the pale gold of her loosened hair. She flung down the novel she was reading at his entrance, and with a cry of joy went to meet him.
"Father! father!"
The dear, simple words flung the inmost door of his heart open to her. He took her in his arms and kissed her. "My lass, my lass, I am glad to see thee." She drew the low chair in which she had been sitting beside him, and took his large, brown hand between her white, jewelled ones, and stroked and fondled it Aske was out riding, and Burley determined to take the opportunity and talk wisely to his child. He would advise her to do what was kind and right, but at the same time he knew that, right or wrong, he would defend her to the last shilling of his money and the last hour of his life.
But who can reason with a high-tempered woman into whom the spirit of wilful contradiction has entered? The quarrel between Eleanor and her husband had come to a struggle for supremacy, and Eleanor was determined not to submit. And alas, the tenacity with which a woman will hold a post of this kind is amazing; there is no driving her from it, no compromise, no terms of capitulation of which she can conceive.
In the midst of a very unsatisfactory conversation Aske entered. He was a small, slight man of fair complexion, with an honest, kindly face, and a pleasant shrewdness in the eyes. Jonathan could have carried him almost as easily as a child, but inches and weight were no indication of the real man. The real Anthony Aske was self-poised, quickly observant, and cool-headed, without being cold. He had a refined mouth, a wilful chin, and those wide-open gray eyes, with the bluish tint of steel in them, that always indicate a resolute and straightforward character. He looked at Eleanor as he entered the room, and his glance roused and irritated her, but she met it fearlessly, with her handsome head a little on one side and perceptibly lifted, and a smile which was at once attractive and provoking.
Aske had a great respect for his father-in-law, and no intention whatever of making him a partner in his domestic troubles. To tell the truth, he was not seriously uneasy about them. He had anticipated some difficulty in transforming the spoiled daughter into an obedient, gentle wife, but any doubts as to his ultimate success had never assailed him. "The Taming of the Shrew" is a drama every young husband believes himself capable of playing, and Eleanor's anger and scorn, her disobediences, and her sins of ommission and commission against his authority, were not things which greatly dismayed or hurt him. He loved her none the less as yet for them, and he confidently looked forward to a time when she would acknowledge the matrimonial bit, and answer the lightest touch of his guiding rein. In the interval he felt the dispute to be entirely their own, and he desired neither assistance nor sympathy from outsiders regarding it.
He met Burley with the frankest welcome, and soon took him away to the gardens and stables. Jonathan was greatly impressed with all he saw. Aske's was evidently the eye of the diligent and kind master. In the gardens, the hot-houses, the park, the most beautiful profusion and the most beautiful order reigned. The great court, surrounded by the stables and barns and granaries, was a place for men to linger delightedly in. Aske was fond of horses, and he knew a great deal about them, but that day Jonathan Burley amazed him. He looked at the cotton-spinner with admiration, and the cotton-spinner keenly enjoyed his little triumph.
For two hours the men were really happy together, and they had found one topic at least on which both could talk with unflagging interest. Eleanor watched them coming along the terrace talking with animation, her father's hand upon her husband's shoulder, and Anthony's gay, short laugh chorusing some merry recital of Jonathan's younger days. Her heart burned with anger. She felt as if her father was a traitor to her cause. As for her husband, he was trying to put himself in matrimonial colors which he did not deserve, trying to deceive her father, and to give him a wrong impression as to his treatment of her.
When Aske, under the happy influence of that confidential two hours, met her, it was with lover-like admiration and affection. She had dressed herself with wonderful skill and taste, and his eyes brightened with pleasure as he looked at her. But she answered his glance with one of intelligent scorn. She was determined he should understand that she had seen through his effusive demonstrations towards her father. So the dinner, though an excellent one, faultlessly served, was a very painful meal. Eleanor was satirical, mocking, brilliant, almost defiant, and Jonathan suffered keenly amid the flying shafts of her ready tongue. But he remembered that a little meddling will make a deal of care, and he tried to pass over the unpleasant, doubtful speeches. As for Aske, he received them with an impassive good-humor, he talked well and rapidly, and kept the conversation as far as possible from all domestic topics.
After dinner there was a most uncomfortable two hours, but Aske throughout them exhibited in a marked manner the influence which gentle traditions and fine breeding exercise. Upon his own hearth-stone he would protect his father-in-law from every annoyance, if it were possible to do so, and though he was naturally a much more passionate man than Burley, he never once suffered his good temper to desert him amid his wife's innuendoes and scornful sarcasms.
Not so with Jonathan. He was astonished, pained, and then angry, and when this point had been reached he showed it by lapsing into a frowning silence. But Eleanor seemed possessed by a spirit of aggravation; her father's evident disapproval taught her no restraint, and her husband's amiability nettled and irritated her. At length Burley rose impatiently and said, "Aske, I'll be obliged to thee if thou wilt order my gig. I'd better be going, I'm sure."
Left for a few minutes with his daughter, he turned to her and asked, sternly, "Whatever is t' matter wi' thee? Thou hast behaved thysen varry badly to-night. Thou niver acted like this at Burley, and if thou had, I would have put an end to it varry soon, thou may be sure o' that."
"Nobody ordered me about at Burley. I did just what I wanted to do. You never quarreled with me, father."
"I'm varry sure it wasn't thy husband as was quarrelsome to-night. Far from it He was patient beyond iverything. A better man to bear wi' a cross, unreasonable, provoking woman, I niver saw! Niver!"
"You know nothing about him, father. Patient! Why, he has the angry word before the angry thought, and as for being quarrelsome, sooner than want a reason for a dispute, Anthony would quarrel with Aske, and Aske with Anthony."
"I warn thee, Eleanor. Take care what thou art doing. It is far easier to put t' devil in a good husband than to get him out If thy mother hed iver talked to me as thou talked to Anthony this night, I would have gone to t' mill and I would hev stopped there till she said she was 'shamed o' hersen; yes, I would, if I'd stopped there t' rest o' my life."
"I suppose all husbands are alike. I have no doubt they are."
"Nay, then, they aren't There are some varry bad ones, and some varry good ones. Thou hes got a better than thou deserves. And don't thee forget one thing, thou can sow scornful, doubtful speeches if thou wants to, but thou will be sure to reap a fine harvest of plain, even' down hatred and sorrow. Mind what I say."
But though he thought it right to speak thus to her, he had never loved and admired her so much. Marriage had developed the beautiful girl into a splendidly brilliant woman. The magnificence of her dress at dinner, the haughty confidence of her manner affected him strangely. He rode home in a conflict of emotion, but the end of every train of thought was the same—"She was a good, loving lass when she was under my roof, and there is bound to be summat wrong wi' Aske or wi' his way of managing her."
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