Back Aa

That Mother-in-Law of Mine

Close

<h2>CHAPTER IX. THE SHADOW ON OUR LIFE.</h2> Another summer with all its glory was upon us. It was nearly a year since we were married, and I was beginning to feel the dignity of a family man. As Bessie regained her strength and bloom, she seemed to have a matronly grace and self-command quite new to her. As I looked back over our married life I saw no dark shadows, no coldness between us two, no misunderstandings that need occasion regret, but somehow it seemed as though that year had not been so bright and happy as it ought to have been. We had lived under an irksome restraint that was depressing. I had felt it more than Bessie, for she had been accustomed to submit to her mother, and did not chafe, but she plainly saw that my life had not that blithesomeness that would have been natural to me, and which she would have been glad to give it. It was the presence and influence of the mother-in-law that gave a chill to my home life, and yet I could accuse the good woman of no special offence. She was no vulgar meddler, and never wished or intended to mar our domestic felicity. She had managed to keep control of our household arrangements and we had passively acquiesced, but I felt that it would be better if Bessie would take command and cater more to our own desires. We could then have things our own way, and her position would be more becoming as the lady of the house. She began to regard it in the same light herself. Our social life, too, had been restrained and restricted. I was very fond of having my friends about me, and wished them to come in for the evening or to dinner or to pass a Sunday afternoon in our little bower, as often as they could find it agreeable. Mrs. Pinkerton made no open objections, but I knew the company of my friends was not congenial to her, and so was reluctant and backward in my invitations to them. Besides, they were apt to be chilled and disconcerted by the widow’s stately presence and rebuking ways, and were disinclined to make themselves quite at home with us. Fred Marston and his wife had been quite driven away. Mrs. Pinkerton had declined to speak to the latter, and had told the former in plain terms that he used language of which no gentleman would be guilty. “By thunder!” roared the impulsive fellow, “I’ll have you to understand that my wife and I are just as good as you, with your cursed airs of superiority!” and he stormed out of doors, and incontinently returned to town. When I met him afterwards he condescendingly declared that he didn’t blame me, except that I ought to be a man and not allow “old Pink” to insult my guests. I did not particularly regret his discontinuing his visits, for, to tell the truth, I did not like his manners, and he had drifted into a circle and among associates not at all to my taste, but it galled me to have any one whom I chose to entertain driven out of my house. I think nothing saved our charming friend, Miss Van Duzen, to whom we had both become greatly attached, from being gracefully snubbed and insulted, except the presence of her uncle, whenever she came out to visit us in the evening. Mr. Desmond’s indisputable social rank, his unimpeachable demeanor as a gentleman, and the dignity and impressiveness of his presence, though it could by no means overawe my mother-in-law, made it impossible even for her to give him an affront. Besides, she seemed to have a real respect for that fine old gentleman. She would doubtless have thought better of him if he had been a regular attendant at St. Thomas’s Church, but she could not learn that he was very constant at any sanctuary. His views were decidedly what are called liberal, and yet he was very considerate of the religious beliefs and practices of others, and would cheerfully acknowledge the worthy aims and good works of all the different Christian denominations. He seemed to understand why other persons should choose to join one or another, while he preferred to stand aloof, have his own ways of thinking, and do whatever good he might in his own way. He had large business interests and great wealth, and though he maintained his mansion in the city in great elegance, his family expenses were comparatively small, and he was reputed to make it up fully by supporting more than one poor family in a quiet way. He was liberal in his conduct as well as his belief, and his character and habits were above the reproach of the severest critic. Hence it was that the widow was forced to respect at least this one of our visitors, and to treat his niece with common civility, though cordiality was out of the question. In fact, we owed to Mr. Desmond not a little for what relief we obtained in our social life from the chilling restraints of the mother-in-law’s presence. He seemed to take a real pleasure in coming out to our little snuggery. His stately establishment in town could not be very home-like. His niece presided over it with great skill, and saw that every wish or taste of his was gratified. She could always entertain him with her sprightly wit, and their social occasions were among the most elegant in the city. He had his club to go to, which furnished every means that ingenuity and lavish resources could contrive to minister to the pleasures of man. And yet, there was wanting to his life that element that was the essence of home. He had longed for it when he was young, and had provided for it in his household; but the wife of his youth had been called from him early, and he had vainly tried to fill all his life with business, with silent works of charity, with elegance and profusion in his house, with his clubs, his studies, and his travels; but still there was a void, and when he came to visit us, he seemed to find something akin to the home feeling in our little circle. So he came far oftener than was to be expected of one in his position. Clara was his excuse, but it was plain to see that he liked to come on his own account, and he made himself very agreeable to us all; and when he came, we noticed the chilling influence of Mrs. Pinkerton much less than when he was not there. Sometimes we had a whist party. It was generally Bessie and I against Clara and George, but the widow had no objection to whist and was occasionally induced to take a hand, while Mr. Desmond was quite fond of the game and was a consummate player. When we young people made up the set, Mr. Desmond would converse with the widow, for though reticent where politeness did not call upon him to talk, he was incapable of the rudeness of sitting silent with one other person, or in a small party of intimate friends; and these conversations, showing his wide information on all manner of subjects, his sympathy with all charitable movements, and his tolerant regard even for the widow’s pet ideas on church and society, evidently increased her respect for him. George must not be forgotten as a member of our circle, and never can be by those who were in it. His vivacity did much to relieve us from the depression that brooded over us. He and Clara Van, as he had taken to calling her as a sort of play upon caravan,—for was she not a whole team in herself? he would say,—he and Clara had many a lively contest of words, and were well matched in their powers of wit and repartee. Thus there were lights as well as shades, relief as well as depression, in our social life, but over it all was a shadow, the shadow of my mother-in-law. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2