THE WIFE.

THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 作者：华盛顿·欧文投票推荐加入书签留言反馈

百度搜索 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 天涯 或 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.

The treasures of the deep are not so precious

 As are the cealed forts of a man

 Lockd up in womans love. I st the air

 Of blessings, when I came but he house,

 What a delicious breath marriage sends forth--

 The violet beds no sweeter!

 MIDDLETON.

 I HAVE often had occasion to remark the fortitude with whien sustain the most overwhelming reverses of fortuhose disasters which break down the spirit of a man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give sutrepidity and elevation to their character, that at times it approaches to sublimity. Nothing be more toug, than to behold a soft and tender female, who had been all weakness and dependence, and alive to every trivial roughness, while threading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising ial force to be the forter and support of her husband under misfortune, and abiding with unshrinking ?rmhe bitterest blasts of adversity.

 As the vine, which has long twis graceful foliage about the oak, and been and been lifted by it into sunshine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, g round it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs, so is it beautifully ordered by Providehat woman, who is the mere depe and or of man in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with sudden calamity; winding herself into the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly supp the drooping head, and binding up the broke.

 I was once gratulating a friend, who had around him a blooming family, knit together iro affe. "I wish you er lot," said he, with enthusiasm, "than to have a wife and children. If you are prosperous, there they are to share your prosperity; if otherwise, there they are to fort you." And, indeed, I have observed that a married man falling into misfortune, is more apt to retrieve his situation in the world than a single one; partly, because he is more stimulated to exertion by the ies of the helpless and beloved beings who depend upon him for subsistence, but chie?y because his spirits are soothed and relieved by domestidearments, and his self-respect kept alive by ?nding, that, though all abroad is darkness and humiliatiohere is still a little world of love at home, of which he is the monarch. Whereas, a single man is apt to run to waste and self-; to fancy himself lonely and abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin, like some deserted mansion, for want of an inhabitant.

 These observations call to mind a little domestic story, of which I was once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, had married a beautiful and aplished girl, who had been brought up in the midst of fashionable life. She had, it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend le; and he delighted iicipation of indulging her in every elegant pursuit, and administering to those delicate tastes and fahat spread a kind of witchery about the sex.--"Her life," said he, "shall be like a fairy tale."

 The very differen their characters produced a harmonious bination; he was of a romantid somewhat serious cast; she was all life and gladn.９9ｌｉｂ.ess. I have often noticed the mute rapture with which he would gaze upon her in pany, of which her sprightly powers made her the delight: and how, in the midst of applause, her eye would still turn to him, as if there alone she sought favor and acceptance. When leaning on his arm, her slender form trasted ?nely with his tall, manly person. The fond, ?ding air with which she looked up to him seemed to call forth a ?ush of triumphant pride and cherishing tenderness, as if he doated on his lovely burden from its very helplessness.

 Never did a couple set forward on the ?owery path of early and well-suited marriage with a fairer prospect of felicity.

 It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have embarked his property in large speculations; and he had not been married many months, when, by a succession of sudden disasters, it was swept from him, and he found himself reduced to almost penury. For a time he kept his situation to himself, a about with a haggard tenance, and a breaki. His life was but a protracted agony; and what re more insupportable was the y of keeping up a smile in the presence of his wife; for he could n himself to overwhelm her with the news. She saw, however, with the quick eyes of affe, that all was not well with him. She marked his altered looks and sti?ed sighs, and was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid attempts at cheerfulness. She tasked all her sprightly powers and tender blandishments to win him back to happiness; but she only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he saw cause to love her, the more t was the thought that he was soon to make her wretched. A little while, thought he, and the smile will vanish from that cheek--the song will die away from those lips--the lustre of those eyes will be quenched with sorrow and the happy heart whiow beats lightly in that bosom, will be weighed down, like mine, by the cares and miseries of the world.

 At length he came to me one day, aed his whole situation in a tone of the deepest despair. When I had heard him through, I inquired: "Does your wife know all this?"--At the question he burst into an agony of tears. "Fods sake!" cried he, "if you have any pity on me doion my wife; it is the thought of h<bdo></bdo>er that drives me almost to madness!"

 "And why not?" said I. "She must know it sooner or later: you ot keep it long from her, and the intelligence may break upon her in a more startling mahan if imparted by yourself; for the ats of those we love soften the harshest tidings.

 Besides, you are depriving yourself of the forts of her sympathy; and not merely that, but also endangering the only bond that keep hearts together--an unreserved unity of thought and feeling. She will soon perceive that something is secretly preying upon your mind; and true love will not brook reserve; it feels undervalued and ed, whehe sorrows of those it loves are cealed from it."

 "Oh, but my friend! to think what a blow I am to give to all her future prospects,--how I am to strike her very soul to the earth, by tellihat her husband is a beggar! that she is to all the elegancies of life--all the pleasures of society--to shrink with me into indigend obscurit<q>?</q>y! To tell her that I have dragged her down from the sphere in which she might have tio move in stant brightness--the light of every eye--the admiration of every heart!--How she bear poverty? She has been brought up in all the re?s of opulence. How she bear ? She has been the idol of society. Oh, it will break her heart--it will break her heart!"

 I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its ?ow; for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his paroxysm had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I resumed the subject gently, and urged him to break his situation at oo his wife.

 He shook his head mournfully, but positively.

 "But how are you to keep it from her? It is necessary she should know it, that you may take the steps proper to the alteration of your circumstances. You must ge your style of living--nay,"

 a pang to pass across his tenance, "dohat af?ict you. I am sure you have never placed your happiness in outward show--you have yet friends, warm friends, who will not think the worse of you for being less splendidly lodged: and surely it does not require a palace to be happy with Mary--"

 "I could be happy with her," cried he, vulsively, "in a hovel!--I could go down with her into poverty and the dust!--I could--I could--God bless her!--God bless her!" cried he, bursting into a transport of grief and tenderness.

 "And believe me, my friend," said I, stepping up, and grasping him warmly by the hand, "believe me, she be the same with you. Ay, more; it will be a source of pride and triumph to her--it will call forth all the latent energies and fervent sympathies of her nature; for she will rejoice to prove that she loves you for yourself. There is irue woma a spark of heavenly ?re, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams, and blazes in the dark hour of adversity. No man knows what the wife of his bosom is--no man knows what a ministering angel she is--until he has goh her through the ?ery trials of this world."

 There was something in the earness of my manner, and the ?gurative style of my language, that caught the excited imagination of Leslie. I khe auditor I had to deal with; and following up the impression I had made, I ?nished by persuading him to go home and unburden his sad heart to his wife.

 I must fess, notwithstanding all I had said, I felt some little solicitude for the result. Who calculate on the fortitude of one whose life has been a round of pleasures? Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark, doath of low humility suddenly pointed out before her, and might g to the sunny regions in which they had hitherto revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable life is apanied by so many galling morti?cations, to which, in other ranks, it is a stranger. In short, I could not meet Leslie, the m, without trepidation. He had made the disclosure.

 "And how did she bear it?"

 "Like an angel! It seemed rather to be a relief to her mind, for she threw her arms around my neck, and asked if this was all that had lately made me unhappy.--But, pirl," added he, "she ot realize the ge we must undergo. She has no idea of poverty but in the abstract; she has only read of it iry, where it is allied to love. She feels as yet no privation; she suffers no loss of aced venienor elegancies. When we e practically to experies sordid cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations--then will be the real trial."

 "But," said I, "now that you have got over the severest task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let the world into the secret the better. The disclosure may be mortifying; but then it is a single misery, and soon over: whereas you otherwise suffer it, in anticipation, every hour in the day. It is not poverty, so much as pretehat harasses a ruined man--the struggle between a proud mind and ay purse-the keeping up a hollow show that must soon e to an end. Have the ce to appear poor, and you disarm poverty of its sharpest sting." On this point I found Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride himself, and as to his wife, she was only anxious to to their altered fortunes.

 Some days afterwards, he called upon me in the evening. He had disposed of his dwelling-house, and taken a small cottage in the try, a few miles from town. He had been busied all day in sending out furniture. The ablishme<dfn></dfn>nt required few articles, and those of the simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold, excepting his wifes harp. That, he said, was too closely associated with the idea of herself it beloo the little story of their loves; for some of the sweetest moments of their courtship were those when he had leaned over that instrument, and listeo the melting tones of her voice.--I could not but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in a doating husband.

 He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife had been all day superintending its arra. My feelings had bee strongly ied in the progress of his family story, and, as it was a ?ne evening, I offered to apany him.

 He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and, as we walked out, fell into a ?t of gloomy musing.

 "Poor Mary!" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from his lips.

 "And what of her," asked I, "has anything happeo her?"

 "What," said he, darting an impatient glance, "is it nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation--to be caged in a miserable cottage--to be obliged to toil almost in the menial s of her wretched habitation?"

 Has she then repi the ge?

 "Repined! she has been nothing but sweetness and good-humor.

 Indeed, she seems ier spirits than I have ever known her; she has been to me all love, and tenderness, and fort!"

 "Admirable girl!" exclaimed I. "You call yourself poor, my friend; you never were so rich,--you never khe boureasures of excellence you possessed in that woman."

 "Oh! but, my friend, if this ?rst meeting at the cottage were over, I think I could then be fortable. But this is her ?rst day of real experience; she has been introduced into a humble dwelling,--she has been employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments,--she has, for the ?rst time, knowigues of domestic employment,--she has, for the ?rst time, looked around her on a home destitute of every thing elegant--almost of every thing ve; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty."

 There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence.

 After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest-trees as to give it a plete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet; a had a pleasing rural look. A wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over it; and I observed several pots of ?owers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass-plot in front. A small wicket-gate opened upon a footpath that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as roached, we heard the sound of music--Leslie grasped my arm; we paused and listened. It was Marys voice singing, in a style of the most toug simplicity, a little air of which her husband eculiarly fond.

 I felt Leslies hand tremble on my arm. He stepped forward, to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel-walk. A bright beautiful face glanced out at the window, and vanished--a light footstep-was heard--and Mary came tripping forth to meet us. She was in a pretty rural dress of white; a few wild ?owers were twisted in her ?ne hair; a fresh bloom was on her cheek; her whole tenance beamed with smiles--I had never seen her look so lovely.

 "My dear Gee," cried she, "I am so glad you are e; I have been watg and watg for you; and running down the lane, and looking out for you. Ive set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage; and Ive been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them--and we have such excellent cream--and everything is so sweet and still here-Oh!"--said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, "Oh, we shall be so happy!"

 Poor Leslie was overe.--He caught her to his bosom--he folded his arms round her--he kissed her again and again--he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes; and he has often assured me, that though the world has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more exquisite felicity.

百度搜索 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 天涯 或 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.