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I mourned for my child-wife, taken from her blooming world, so young. I mourned for him who might have won the love and admiration of thousands, as he had won mine long ago. I mourned for the broken heart that had found rest in the stormy sea; and for the wandering remnants of the simple home, where I had heard the night-wind blowing, when I was a child.
When I am very disappointing, say, "I knew, a long time ago, that she would make but a child-wife!" When you miss what I should like to be, and I think can never be, say, "still my foolish child-wife loves me!" For indeed I do. I had not been serious with her; having no idea until now, that she was serious herself.
Just as Dogget was supreme in such parts as Fondlewife, so was Fisher superb in the uxorious husband whom the demure child-wife bamboozles, in the comedies of Molière.
I have dim recollections of the preparation of the trousseau by the nimble fingers of the officers' wives, of the pleasureable excitement and merry chat over the unusual event, and of the starting off of the excursion on that long, cold ride, the "good-byes," the tears, the smiles and the blushes, and of the hearty welcome home of the beautiful, happy bride, and the proud but dignified bridegroom, and I there and then yielded my fealty to the sweet child-wife, and always loved her as a dear relative.
Am I, or am I not, flatly exaggerating in this summary of losses? Would I have the little child-wife back again if I could? Can her loss after this lapse of well nigh two score years have left anything, at most, but a humanising tenderness in my memory?
No doubt the other two Chinamen had joined Li Choo in his hiding-place, wherever it was. Why had the Chinamen come? What were they after? It did not matter for the moment. What he wanted was Louise, his bad child-wife, who had broken from her cage and flown from him. Where would she go? Where, but to Slow Down Ranch?
On further consideration this appeared so likely, that I abandoned my scheme, which had had a more promising appearance in words than in action; resolving henceforth to be satisfied with my child-wife, and to try to change her into nothing else by any process.
Then the countess seized the hand of the child-wife and led her into her bed-chamber. On the wall hung a fine large battle-piece, a splendid oil painting by a Viennese master. "A magnificent picture, is it not?" enquired the countess with a broad smile. "Yes," replied Henrietta absently. "How do you like the central figure? I mean the hero on horseback with the standard in his hand?"
One of the first objects shown us here was the tomb of Mercedes, the child-wife of the present king; also, in a deep octagonal vault, the sepulchres of some thirty royal individuals, kings and mothers of kings. Among them were Philip II., Philip V., Ferdinand VI., Charles V., etc.
No, no; I was not going to disturb the peace of a good man by telling him that his child-wife of twenty years ago was still living, but lost to him by a fall far worse than death. No I let you remain dead to him." "Oh, misery! misery! misery! I would to Heaven I were dead to everybody! dead, dead indeed!" she cried, wringing her hands in anguish. "Come, come, don't be a fool!
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