The Wedding Guest

THE following passages from the diary of a young English wife may be read with profit here.  The lesson taught is well worth treasuring in the memory.

May 1.—­Just three months to-day since William and I were married.  What a happy time it has been, and how quickly it has passed!  I am determined to begin and keep a journal again as I used to do before I married, if it be only to mark how the days go by—­one happier than the other.  How different from the days of our long courtship, when there was always something to be anxious about; whilst now, nothing but death can ever part us, and it seems to me as if all the trials of life must be easy to bear when borne together.  Dear William!  How kind he has been to me, and how cheerful and good-tempered he always is.  He was saying only this morning that he did not think we had had a single tiff since we married; and I am sure it would have been my fault if we had.  Gratitude alone ought to keep me from quarrelling with William, if nothing else would, considering all he has done for me.  How nice he made this place ready for me when we married!  I cannot think how he ever contrived to save enough out of his salary to buy such handsome furniture.  To be sure he always says that it is my setting it off so well that makes it look better than it is; and yet, except the muslin curtains to the window, and the table-cover, and my work-box, and the flowers, I have not done much.  I almost wish he had left me more to do, for time does hang heavy on my hands sometimes when he is away.  I wish that some of my neighbours would make acquaintance with me; for I know no one hereabouts.  That Mrs. Smith who lives next door, looked towards the window as she passed this morning, and seemed inclined to stop—­I only wish she would; it would be so pleasant to have a neighbour occasionally coming in for a chat, and I should pick up a bit of news perhaps to tell William in the evening.  Now I think of it, I will just go up stairs and take a look at his shirts; it is just possible that there may be a button off, though they were all new when he married; or perhaps his stockings want running at the heels.  I wonder I did not think of that before.  There is nothing like preventing holes from coming.

May 2.—­Told William last night of my plan of keeping a diary, and he thinks it a good one, and has given me the old ledger, in which he says I can scribble away as much as I like.  And really, after writing so much as I used for Aunt Morris, it is easier I believe for me than for most people to write down what happens each day and what passes in my mind.  To my great surprise, who should come in this morning but Mrs. Smith, from next door!  One would think she had peeped over my shoulder, and seen what I wrote about her yesterday—­but she says that she has long been thinking of coming in, only she did not know whether I should be inclined to be sociable.  She seems a most respectable and pleasant kind of person, and really quite superior to the other people in the lane.  She said she felt sure by my looks as she had seen me going to church on Sunday with William, that I was not a common sort of person, and said moreover that William was a very genteel-looking young man, and remarkably like a nephew of hers who is in quite a large way of business in Manchester.  Mrs. Smith admires my room very much, only she says her house has an advantage over ours, in having a passage, instead of the front door opening into the room.  She had, in fact, a partition put up after she came, to divide one off, and says it is astonishing how much more comfortable it makes the place, besides looking more genteel.  I have often wondered myself that William did not choose a house that had this convenience, and I am sure it will be cold in winter to have the door opening right into one’s room in this way, besides making the chimney smoke.  Mrs. Smith has asked me to look in, as often as I can, and says it will be quite a charity to sit with her now and then, she is so lonely.

May 3.—­I think William is glad that I am at liberty to have a friendly neighbour—­only he says he is afraid that Mrs. Smith is rather above us in the world, and might not suit our humble ways.  I do not think this, however; but if it were so, I would rather associate with those who are above me than below me.  I mentioned to William what she told me about the alteration she had made in her house, but he did not seem as if he thought it would be so great an improvement.  After breakfast I put on my bonnet and shawl, and went in to Mrs. Smith’s.  She keeps a little maid-servant, I find, which I had no idea of before.  I found her sitting at work quite in style, and really it is quite astonishing how snug her house seems in consequence of the alteration she has made.  The sitting-room is of course so much smaller, but that is nothing compared to the comfort of the passage; I should not have thought that the houses could ever have been built alike, hers is so superior to ours.  To be sure the style of her furniture is perhaps better than ours, and the papering handsomer, and her carpet goes all over her room, and she has a very handsome hearth-rug.  Altogether I could not help fancying our place looked quite mean and shabby after I came back.  But then I said to myself, that William and I were after all only beginning the world, and who knows what we may not be able to do by-and-by.  Nothing is more likely than that William should have his salary raised in a year or two, and perhaps some day go into business himself.

May 4.—­William got home nice and early last night, and read aloud to me for more than an hour.  It was very kind of him, and the book was very interesting, but somehow or other I think I would rather have talked to him.  I wanted to tell him several things that Mrs. Smith had said to me—­especially about the putting up of that partition being such a trifling expense.  I did get it said at last; but it is astonishing how little he seems to care about what would be such a great improvement to our place.  Of course he cannot understand as well as I do how disagreeable it is for people to be coming to the door, and lifting the latch and looking straight in at me as I sit at work—­just the same as in any cottage in the country.  I think William rather forgets that I never was accustomed to this kind of thing at home.  Last night even, when the postman came; if he had not been so anxious to read his letter, he might have noticed how the draught from the open door made the candle flare, and the tallow ran down all over my nice bright candlestick.  The letter was from his father, asking him to give a couple of pounds toward’s fitting out his brother George for Australia.  William means to send it, I see, and really I am very glad that he can assist his relations, and should never think of saying a word against it—­only it shows that be has plenty of spare money, and that it is not so much the expense of the thing that makes him seem to dislike the idea of altering our place.  He keeps saying, “My dear, I think it is very well as it is,” and “My dear, it seems very comfortable to me;” but that is no reason why it should not be better, as I tell him.

May 5.—­Mrs. Smith came in this morning and brought her work, to have, as she said, a friendly gossip with me.  She is really a most pleasant and sociable person, and says she is sure we shall suit each other uncommonly well.  I told her that I had mentioned to William about the passage she had contrived to her house, but that he did not seem to think it would be so great an improvement.  “I dare say not,” said she, laughing; “husbands very often don’t like new plans unless they are themselves the first to propose them; but such a young wife as you ought to have your way in such a matter.”  I took care to tell her that William was the kindest and most good-natured creature in the world, and that no husband could be more anxious to please a wife.  “Then,” said she, “if that be the case, take my word for it he will end by making the alteration you want.”  This quite emboldens me to say a little more to William about our having this partition put up; because I should not like Mrs. Smith to fancy that my wishes have no weight with him.  I will see what I can do to-night when he comes home.

May 6.—­I am afraid I vexed William last night, and only wish I could unsay two or three things that I said about the making of this passage.  I begin to think I was foolish to get such a fancy into my head.  After tea, just as he was going to open out his book, I ventured to say, “I wish you would talk to-night, dear William, instead of read, for I have so little of your company.”  In a minute he had shut his book, and drawn his chair up to mine, and said so good-naturedly, “Well, little Fanny, and what shall we talk about?” that I felt quite afraid of beginning upon the subject I had in my mind.  By-and-by, however, I broached it, and said I really had set my heart upon having our room altered like Mrs. Smith’s, and that I was sure it would be done for very little expense, even supposing our landlord would not do it for us.  William said he could not think of even asking him to do it, after having put the house into such complete repair when we came here; and he added, that he had fancied that I was pleased with the place, and thought it comfortable.  “So I was, dear William,” said I; “but I had no idea till I tried, how uncomfortable it is to sit in a room with a front door opening into it in this way—­it is like sitting in the street.”  William looked so vexed as I said this, I did not speak for some time.  Then all at once he said, “Well, Fanny, as I wish you to be happy and comfortable, I suppose you must have your way in this matter.  I cannot exactly say that I cannot afford it, because you know I do not spend all my salary upon housekeeping; but there were some books that I thought of buying, that, after all, I can wait for very well:—­So if you like to speak to John Wilson, I dare say he would do the job as cheaply as any one—­he can make an estimate of what it would cost, and let me know.”  I thanked William, most heartily, for his consent, and I am sure that when the passage is once made, he will be as pleased as any one with the improvement.  And yet I do not feel quite satisfied at the idea of his going without his books, and only wish he had the money for them as well.

May 7.—­Happening to see John Wilson passing down the lane on the way to his work, I called him in to consult him about putting up the partition.  He made a very careful measurement, and then after calculating wood-work, and paint, and time, he said he thought he could do it for two pounds ten.  I thought it would not have been more than two pounds at most; but i had forgotten about the inner door, with its handle and hinges, &c.  It seems a great deal of money, I must say.  William’s books I know would only have cost thirty shillings, for I have a list of them that he made one evening.

May 8.—­Somehow or other I could hardly make up my mind after all, last night, to tell William about John Wilson’s estimate; but when I did get it said, he made me feel quite at ease by the open way in which he talked about it with me, and planned it all just as if he thought it as desirable as I do.  This is particularly kind of him, because I know he thinks all the time that we could do very well without it.  Before we went to bed, too, he took out the little purse in which he keeps his savings (the very purse I made him before we married), and taking out the L2 10s., told me to keep the money myself ready to pay John Wilson, as he said he might be spending it perhaps if it was not out of his way.  “You know,” said he, laughing, “I pass the book-shop every evening on my way home, and I cannot answer for myself.”  I could not help feeling very much this kindness of William’s in giving up his wishes so readily to mine in the matter, and I told him so—­and really it quite kept me awake half the night thinking about it.  I think the very sight of that purse brought back to my remembrance how I used to say to myself that when once I was William’s wife I would try so hard to make him happy, and sacrifice all my wishes to his.  I began to feel that after all it would not make me half as happy to have my own way as for him to be pleased with me; and in spite of his trying not to let me see it, I cannot help fancying that he was a little hurt at my being discontented with my little home, that had given me such satisfaction at first and in which we have been so happy.  I begin to think that I was foolish in being persuaded by Mrs. Smith that my snug little house wanted anything to complete my happiness.  Happiness!  How ridiculous it seems to write that word in connexion with such a trifle as this.  As if William and I were not too happy to care about whether our house is as good as our neighbour’s!  I am determined after all to give up this affair of the passage altogether.  I have half a mind—­nay, I am quite, resolved, to spend the money instead upon those books for William.  How surprised he will be!

Afternoon of the same day.—­After coming to the decision I did this morning, I put on my things, and set off into the town.  I don’t think I ever walked faster than I did to that bookseller’s shop.  Luckily they had all the books I wanted, or if they are not quite right William has only to change them afterwards.  They did not cost as much as I had calculated, too, and with the discount that they gave me I had enough left for the little hanging bookshelves that William took such a fancy to at the cabinet-maker’s the other day.  I got them all home this afternoon—­books as well as shelves—­and in less than an hour after their arrival, the nail was knocked into the wall opposite the fire-place; the shelves hung, and all the books arranged upon them.  How nice they look, and how pleased will dear William be when he returns!  I declare I would not exchange the happiness I now feel in giving him pleasure for the finest house, with the grandest entrance to it too, that ever was built.  Six o’clock:  and William will be home at seven!