After the Storm - Page 19/141

The wedding party was to spend a week at Saratoga, and it was now

the third day since its arrival. The time had passed pleasantly, or

wearily, according to the state of mind or social habits and

resources of the individual. The bride, it was remarked by some of

the party, seemed dull; and Rose Carman, who knew her friend better,

perhaps, than any other individual in the company, and kept her

under close observation, was concerned to notice an occasional

curtness of manner toward her husband, that was evidently not

relished. Something had already transpired to jar the chords so

lately attuned to harmony.

After dinner a ride was proposed by one of the company. Emerson

responded favorably, but Irene was indifferent. He urged her, and

she gave an evidently reluctant consent. While the gentlemen went to

make arrangement for carriages, the ladies retired to their rooms.

Miss Carman accompanied the bride. She had noticed her manner, and

felt slightly troubled at her state of mind, knowing, as she did,

her impulsive character and blind self-will when excited by

opposition.

"I don't want to ride to-day!" exclaimed Irene, throwing herself

into a chair as soon as she had entered her room; "and Hartley knows

that I do not."

Her cheeks burned and her eyes sparkled.

"If it will give him pleasure to ride out," said Rose, in a gentle

soothing manner, "you cannot but have the same feeling in

accompanying him."

"I beg your pardon!" replied Irene, briskly. "If I don't want to

ride, no company can make the act agreeable. Why can't people learn

to leave others in freedom? If Hartley had shown the same

unwillingness to join this riding party that I manifested, do you

think I would have uttered a second word in favor of going? No. I am

provoked at his persistence."

"There, there, Irene!" said Miss Carman, drawing an arm tenderly

around the neck of her friend; "don't trust such sentences on your

lips. I can't bear to hear you talk so. It isn't my sweet friend

speaking."

"You are a dear, good girl, Rose," replied Irene, smiling faintly,

"and I only wish that I had a portion of your calm, gentle spirit.

But I am as I am, and must act out if I act at all. I must be myself

or nothing."

"You can be as considerate of others as of yourself?" said Rose.

Irene looked at her companion inquiringly.

"I mean," added Rose, "that you can exercise the virtue of

self-denial in order to give pleasure to another--especially if that

other one be an object very dear to you. As in the present case,

seeing that your husband wants to join this riding party, you can,

for his sake, lay aside your indifference, and enter, with a hearty

good-will, into the proposed pastime."