Miscellany: Ellen Carlton: Or, The Capricious Bride

The little capriciousness of some wives is more unendurnble ihan tlio right down angry temper oí a virago. The one is a continunl dropping of a rainy day; thé other a smart April shower, heavy while it lusls, but soon - J. Taylor. Louis Carlton was a young and happy husband. Ho had been manied some montlis to a very beautif'ul girl, five years his junior, he being now, twenty se ven or little past. He had mnrried lier for love, but had loved her for her beauty, which is pretty ofien the case in these matrimonial aflairs. She provod, however, to be sensible as well as beautiful, ond he os good a husband as he was a devoted lover. The first six monihs of their marr;ed life glided by as smoothly as a summer's 8tream winding through green meadows. - Not an angry word had passed between them - no nngry glunce exchanged! Louis feit himself tü be the happier t of men - but it was because his lioncy tnoon chanced to be six nioiuhs ong. ile congratulated himself every where he went, nnd triumphed over his friends who still remained in the bachelor ranks. 'You iiave not been married a year yet, Louis,' said Fred Turner, a young lawyer, who had long been looking out for a rich widow, or an oíd entailed eslate with a flaw in the deed, he_carrd Jittle which. 'Wait till you have diffèred from her in iho color of her new Int,' snid Charles Amesly, nn M. D., thirty-seven years of agc, seventeen of which he had spent like a mo Ii iluttering nbout a candle, trying to muster courage to give ap his independence to the management of a womnn. 'You have had no liltle rosponsibiüties yet, Curlion,' said Col. Thornton, n bachelor beau of a doub.ful ugo, old townsmen asseveratingthat he would never seo sixty again, while young men nirde him their companion. But .the Colonel had put his grey hairs in mourning, not that any person had dyed, save hin self. 'Ah mine goot fiient, Monsieur Carltong,' eaid the attaché of the French legation, 'you liave tievaire let your voife, Madame De Cari tng go to de gran asácmblee at Vashington, ma foi ! Ven she sall soe herself dere, and you eall see her riere, and she sall see every bodie dcre - wid a,l de foine gint lemen, &he sull 'ave to see dere - den you snll be jealous, MonsieurCarltong, mine goot frient, eb! Den coom de pretty curtain scène - de lecture nuptials - de tear - de cross - de scold - de-de-de devil, altogether! Eh, nh, you eall see, Monsieur Carltong!' Louis langhed at his friends' prophecies, nd, happy in the love of Ellen, he believed he should ahvays remain so. He went home, and he told her lauglringly ,what his bachelor friends had said. 'And do you believe theun, dear Louis?' asked the lovely bride with txn insinuating sniile and coptivatmg look, as she gracefully poured cream into his lea. 'Believe them! No, dearest! The barbarians! they envy me my felicity, and wouid destroy it if they couVl.' 'I am 6iire we ehall nlways love each other as we do now,' said the bride. 'And never quarrel,' responded Louis. 'Nor look cross.' Nor sour.' No.' 'No.' 'And jou will alvvays indulge me, won't you?' 'To be sure.' 'And let me do as I please?' 'Certainly.' 'We shall be so happy!' 'Won't we?' and Louis buttered a huge piece of toast, and swallowed it. Afler tea Ellen came down dressed for an Evening party. Louis gazed on her with pride and admiration. 'You look divinely, Ellen. 'Do I, Louis?' and the pretty wifeturned to the mirror and surveyed her person with a emile. 'But I would suggest one altcration, dearesl!' 'What, Louis?' 'That purple ribbon about the neck! 1 don't think purple becomes a brunette!' 'Why purple always became me, Louis!' 'Cherry colored would be most becommg decidedly.' 'Indeed! don't think so. Captain Mortimer, of the Navy, told me I looked truly cha rm ing in purple.' 'Confound Captain Morlim3r of the Navy,' cxclaimed Louíb, angrily . 'I teil you Ellen, Ilike j't now less thnn before. You shall not wear purple.' 'Iwill wear it; you are jealous, Louis!' 'I am nol.' You are.' 'I teil you, Ellen, I am not.' Weli, have your cwn way. I will wear the purple ribbon, or 1 won't go to the porty.' Here was a matrimonial climax! Louis looked upon his wife wilh perfect astonishment. She had not spoken a tsharp word be fore, since their marriage: but then her tastes had not been crosscd. He was thunderstruck! He did not kuow she possessed the least bit of spirit. She now had opcnly rebelled. On his part he had never spoken so to her before. She was astonished, and began to tremble for the first time, at a husband's authority. But Ellen Carkon was naturally spirited and opportunity was only wanted to draw her out. She was a spoiled beauty, capricious, and very fond of having her own way. Her parents had never thwarted her inclinations, nor before had Louis done so. She' now internally resolved, mnch as she loved Louis, not to yield to him. She had imbibed certaïn notions 6he had learncd in girlhood, cf woman's rights, and that if a bride yielded the first time to a husband's temper, she was henceforth hi& slaye, Now, thought she to herself, the crisis and the hourhas come, and J will not submit. Louis shall yield. Such a weak resolution ae this has been the means of prodvicing much of the connubial unhappiness that exists in this world. Wlien Louie saw that Ellen was determinad on wearing the purple ribbon, he quietly gave up to her; for he was naturally of a yielding nature, But this discovery of temper and wilfulness in the bride of his bosom, grieved him to the heart. He went with her to the party, but dnring the whole evening he was sad and ahsent in mind, wbile Ellen was goyer than usual. The ensuing morning, Ellen, who really loved Louis, and feit proud of his love, came to him, and putting her arms about his neck, afi'ectionately kissed him. He returned the caress, and smiles once more took the place of sndness. But the bright chryslal vase of their wedded love had received a flaw, and from that day their happiness was chequred nndunsieady. The current of affection was interrupted by many of Ellen's caprices, and cach day she seetned to be more and more reckless of her husband's domestic pence. - The least incident would cause a qnick frown to form bot ween "her eyebrows, and a sharp reply . Her temper grew sour au ehe gave indulgeuce to it, and poor Louis feit that all the tiappiness he had belicved in store for him as fi husbaii't, was d;stined to perish. A year elapsed, and Ellen became a proud and happy mother. In the f uil tide of her maternal love and happiness, all lesser streams of discontent were swallowed up. Her temper became cheerful, her disposition gentle, lier voice afFectionate. Louis háiled this change with joy, for he hod began to believe that the capriciousness of Ellen's temper had ruined her own and his happiness forever. Thrce months passed after the birth of their little girl, and not one unkind word or look had been inlerchnnged beivveen them. One morning Ellen appeared in the parlor dressed for the street, the nurse following her with the infant.Where are you going, my dear?' asked Louis, lifting his eyes from a book, on seeing her come in, and tben rising and going to wards the babe, to give it a proud parental kis?. 'To give little Mary nn airing in the square. Don't she look sweet?' and Mrs. Cailton turned and gazed upon her infant with a look of maternal delight. 'A little cherub, Ellen! lts eyes, Capfain Mortimer tells me, are just like mine.' 'Confound Captain Mortimer, Louis,' said Ellen laughing; 'I teil you every body say her eyes ate exaclly like mine!' ' Why your's are jet black. Ellen, and the babe's are hazel, ond so are mine.' 'IIow you do love to coniradict, Louis,' said Mrs. Carlton, pettishly. 'Come, Jane, let us jo before he quarrels with us." 'Are you not ashamed, Ellen, to spcak of me in this way, before and to a servant? I had no intention of quarrelling. I merely said the baby's eyes were bazel.' 'They are black.' 'Well, black, then.' 'Well, black, then, - T say they are black.' 'What is the matter, Ellen?' You are as cross as you can be! I declare I never could have believed this. I did hope. after my confinement, you would have treated me a little diíFerently;' and Mrs. Carlton suffered tears to come into her eyes, and threw herself into a rocking chair. 'My dear - really I did not mean to - ' begon Louis approaebmg her. 'Go away - I don't want nny my deoring,1 and her cambric handkerchief sought her eyes - sob. 'But, Ellen-' 'ou are always fiuding fault' - sob, tob. 'Indeed' - 'I can never please you' - sob, sob, sob. 'What a scène are we making before the nurse1' ' You began il.' 'I dul.: Airs. Garitón did not expect so candid a confession, and was at a loss to go on. At length she rose up, and without looking at Louis, left the house, followed by the blackeyed l.ttle infant, in the nurse's arms. Louis soon after followed, and went to the United States Hotel, to forget his domestic discomforts i the society of his bachelor friends, and in the excitement of a glasa or two of brandy and water. If pctlish wives kuevv how oftenthey drove their husbands to the brandy bot - tle, they would pause ere tliey gave way to a capriciousness which would bring forth to them 8iich bitter fruits. 'You don't seem in good spirits, Louis,r said his bachelor friend, the lavvyer, whom he met there; 'I suspect you are on the stool of repen tance.' 'I- -1 havo a- that is- I hove a toothache.' 'Oh, ah,' said Charles Amesly, with a look of well teigned sympathy; 'that is bad, Louis! Toothaches are very bad thinge, especially doublé teeth!' 'ifou look os if you were jealous of your baby, Cari ton,' said Col. Thornton; 'married men teil me they sink into insignificance as soon as a baby is bom.' 'No, no, Messieurs, said the attaché to the Prench Lcgation, taking a huge pinch of 6nuff, and shrugging his shoulders till they met his ears; Monsieur Carltong, my frient isdisciplined! He carry de eye down - de head droop, de hand cross behint de back, and looking so triste as if he lose all de frients he ever sa 11 'ave! He feel de chain, de bondage - eh, mine goot friend, Monsieur Carltong?' Louis endeavored to laugh off the railery of his friends; but the ill success of the effort only ser ved to aesure them of the truth. So when Carlton left them they followed him with eeveral ejiculations: 'Poor Carlton, he sighs for freedom!' 'Unhappy Louis, he envies us arjd feels sad!' 'YVhat would he not give to be free, like ourselves?' _ 'Pauvre jeune! He vill neveire be like himself, no more nevairs!1 That evening Louis eat in his library alone and gloomy. He was reflecting upon the probable wreek of his matrimonial hopes. - Me thought of the svveet hoürs of courtship, when Ellen &eemed all that a lover could dedesire, a husband hope for. He thought bf their first difference about the color of a ribbon, and groaned at remembering how many had followed it. He could not question the deep and devoted ]ove of his wife: but not much skilled in the female heart, he marvelled how pure love couü exist where there wasso much capriciousness. He feit that if Ellen loved him, she would hesitate to' make him unhappy, as she did do, twenty times a day. by her liltle petty bursts of temper. To be sure they were transient, and always followed by a smile, but nevertheless the wound of his heart rankled long after she seemed to have forgotlen that she had given offence. While he wasthus engaged in thinking, an oíd married friend called in. He was twenty years older than Louis, and had a grown up family. He was attached to Carlton, who returned his friendship with his confidence. 'So, you are alone,' he said gaily; ''where is Madam?' 'Ellen hasretired, I believe,' said Louis; 'I have not seen her since morning.' 'Not seen her since morning, and not been two years married. Why, man, now I look at you, you appear sad or ill. What ia the matter?' 'Nothing.' 'That is to say, something. What goes wrong?' 'Nothing.' 'Your business prosperous?' 'As I could wish.' 'Ellen and baby well?' 'Quite so.' Are you sick?' 'No.' 'Then what is the reason of this long face?' Louis faintly smiled, and then rose and walked aoross the room. His friend followod him and took his arm. 'Louis, something is wrong! You and Ellen have quarrelled ngain!' 'You have hit it,' answered Louis, yet looking unhappy. ']t is your fault. You let her govern you by her caprices and tears! If she frown, you are ready to speak and notico il! If she speak quick, you resent or reprove it. If she is in ïll-humor, you make it worse by trying to put her into a better.' 'But what shall I do?' I can't live and have her constanlly frowning. If I look up from my book, it is a chance if I do nol see her looking cross; it has got to be habitual to her. She can't speak without a petite scolding key. Absolutely she keeps me in hot water all the lime. I can't endure a frown on her face. It should be all smiles, genlleness and love!' 'All fudge! Women are like men; they have their feelings, and must express them. - If they smile, thank Heaven! if they frown, endure it insilence. Don't mind them. It only spoils ihem, and makes them worse. - Their faces are April skies, and he who looks to them lor constant fair weather, has his troble and disappointment for his pains.' 'But what sholl I do when Ellen answers me in a cross tono?' 'Say nothing.' 'She will get anry.' 'Let her.' 'She will shed tears.' 'Offer her your pocket handkerchief.' Louis could not help lnughing at his experienced friend's matrimonial philosophy; and he promised to follow his advice. 'Do so, LoUiá, he said to him as he left him; 'and I assure you, you will be a grcat deal happier. So soon as she sees that you are indifferent to her caprices and pretty sulkiness, or finds that you can endure them with philosophy, she will put an end to them. Don't let her think you care so much about her as to be made miserable if she contract her eyebrow, or speak in an octave. Good bye.' The judicious friend of Louis had not beenong gone before the library door opened, and tfrs. Carlton stole in, in her night dress. L.ouig sat still without seeming1 to see her. He mevv she was coming to make vp with him; br such was her disposition, that thotigh she ivas careless about hurting Louis's feelings, she was as ready to atone for it. It was faling out and falling in again with them twenty times a day. Louis therefore expected ler. She ad vaneed softly to him, and stole her land into the grasp of his, and bonding down cissed his forehead. 'You will forgive me, Louis?' He replied by her to his heart. 'Oh, Ellen, if you were always so kind and jentle - so full of all that commands a husband's love. Í wish you would try and pleasd me.' 'I will, Louis. Come now to bed. I could not sleep, knowing that you were displeased with hie.' 'Why, then, do you eo often anger me?' 'I cannot help it, I don't mean to.' 'We will spenk no more of this to-night. May this peace be permanent, is my fervent jrayer.' 'It shall be, Louis.' Several days elapsed, and Ellen seemed really trying not only to avoid giving Louis offence, hut to make him happy. But this calm was of short duration. At dinner she insisted on giving the babe a chicken bone to suck, and Louis contended for the impropriety of it, as the child was scarcely four montha old. 'It will not hurt him,' said Mrs. Carlton, sharply. It will, indeed it will, Ellen. I- I- .' Louis remembered his experienced fnend's advice, and was silent. What were you going to say?' asked Ellen, seeing he paused. Louis commenced deliberately to mix dressing for salad. 'The child shaü have the bone,' and Mrs. Carlton looked to her husband for conlradiction. 'I say he sliall have it.1 Louis scientifically mixed the oil and mustard, and seemed so absorbed in the proces? that he appeared to notice nothing around him. Mrs. Carlton looked at him with angry surprise. 'Why don't you speak, Mr. Carlton1' Louis salted the amalgam, and then peppered it. Mrs. Carlton's beautirul complexion vm heightened. Her fine eyea grew dark and her lips compressed. She covld not get her husband io quarrel with her! the worst situation for a wife to be placed m in the world. After w.itching him for a few moments with a steady look, she rose quickly from the table, threw the chicken bone at the nurses head, and 'exit in a passion.' An hour elapsed, and finding Louis did not come to her chamber to see if she had taken laudanum, or cut her throat, she went down - for she could not bear this suspense. She entered the dining room. The cloth was removed, and there sat Louis, with one leg over the chair, his wine beside him, a cigar between his lips, & an evening paper before him, which he was reading. This indifference to her displeasure cut her to the heart! She was angry, yet trembling for his affection. She feared he had ceased to love her! Shc entered the room and walked up to the vvindow. - He paid no attention to her, nor eeerned to notice her presencu. She rustled the curtain; she tapped nervously on the glass; she even hummed a few notes of an air- 'yet he kept on reading his paper, and alternately sipping his wine and puffing his cigar. She could endure it no longer. 'Louis!' ehe said in a low tone, without looking round. 'My dear !' - puff- sip - the news. She approached the table and stood near his right shoulder. 'Louis!' in a still lower tone. 'My dear!' in a tone of inimitable nonchalance. She sat down and burst into tears. He took no notice of her. She sobbed much louder, and he puffed the harder. She put her 'kerchief to her eyea, and he the wineglass to his lips. She got up and r8pidly walked the room, and he knocked off the ashes of his cigar into the spitoon. At length she came and Jaid her hand hesitatingly upon his shonlder. 'Louis.' 'Ellen.' 'You are oisplea&ed.' 'No, mydear.' 'Why do you act so? 'How.' 'Not to speak.' 'When?' 'At the table?1 'I tvns silent for peace. I was afraid o you, Ellen.' (j3fraid of me! My husband afraid of me? she repeated, distressed. 'I was in truth. I am afraid to speak before you, now.' 'Are you speaking the truth, as you feel?' 'Most solemnly,' he answered, impressively. 'And you fear me - me - the wife of your bosom.' 'Ido, Ellen!'. 'Then am f a wretch, indeed! Is my temper 60 hateful? have I been but two years married, a.nd yet Louis Carlton feais me - fears to contradict me! Is it possible that I have fallen so low? she cried with feeling, - 'Louis, can you forgive me?' 'For whot, Ellen?' he asked, deeply moved by her distress. 'For my evil temper - my capricious disposition - my rëcklessness of your peace - m indifFerence io your wishes - my utter selfish uesb! I sec now all my hateful character iats true light. Oh, how must I have appeared o you? How do J appear to you, Lou6?' 'As an ongel of light- a seraph of peace, earing loveand joy upon its vvinge,' he cried, lis eyes filling. 'You areforgiven. Hencebrlh I fcel you will be the sweet, gentle, loved and loving Ellen, whom I loved and wedled, ere au angry passion marred our bliss.' 'Indeed, Louis, from this day you shall never have occasion to complain of want of afection in me. You shall never find frowns where you listen for the accento of love.' And Ellen Carlton kept her promise. Vlade to see the hideousness of her moral failings by their efTect6 upon the manners of her husband towards her, she had saved from wreek, ere it was too late, the fair and richly neghted bark of their domestic peace. Let all capricious and pettish young wives who read this tale, but reflect for a moment how lateful they appear m their husband's eyeE, and that they irresistibly inspire fear where heir labor should be to inspire love, and let hem foüow the wise example set them by the repentant Ellen Garitón.