Master of the Vineyard

od Hath

tunat

bit of dusting which she would trust no one else to do, gathered up the weekly mending and came into the living-room, where the gues

ng as in the evening. Last night, in the glow of the pink-shaded candles, she had been beautiful, and

asked for no touch of carmine. But the big brown eyes were wistful beyond words, the dark hollows beneath spoke

She

u anywhere," Madame began. "You

ut her picture on my dressing-table

monosyllabic answers, then waited. The silence was not awkward, b

I came," the younger woman

u told me in your note that you were

ther told me about coming to you, if I were in trouble, but two or three days ago, it came to me

mured. "I shall be very glad to,

eyes filling with mist. "Of course it'

ing

it should be. Is

isn't coarse. But there's a refined sort of cruelty that hur

ling for yo

ask him. I

istocratic nose in astonishment. "Wh

ughed bitterly. "Don't be kind to me, for I'm not used to it and it weak

eathed Madame. "

, keeping back the tears by evident effort. Th

r used to say she always had her suspicions of a wom

e, taking up a dainty lavender silk sto

iction between us, but nobody knows it, except you-unless he's told his friends, and I don't thi

al Tr

Madame, missin

riticise him to anyone, nor permit anyone to criticise him. I endeavour to look ahead, protect him against his own weakness or folly, and, as far as a woman's tact and thought may do, shield him from the

w s

staurant or hotel, that is, when he's there. I dare not ask people to dinner, for I never know whether he's

s of Sub

ested Madame, glancing

using it in any way that seems advisable. In fact, if I had to, I'd rather pay the household bills than beg for money, as many a wife is compelled to do-or, for that matter,

ying for the food they themselves eat, and by paying their own laundry bills. Then, every once in a while, I see in some magazine an article written by a man who wonders why women prefer to work in shops and factories, rather than to marry. It must be better to get

fi

in, "is new to me. I live so out of the world, th

Money may not be your best friend, but it's the quickest to act, and seems to be favourably recognised in mo

onger sweet and womanly, but set into a hard, tight line. Colour burned in her cheeks-not a delicate

py?" queri

he comes, sit at the head of his table, dressed in her best, when he deigns to honour dinner with his presence, ask no questions as to his comings or goings, keep

t Re

pified me so precisely. It would be nice, wouldn't it, to have at your front door something that exactly indicated the person inside, like the overtur

a tone of quiet rebuke, "I don't think it was quite rig

y n

nder wher

f opportunity to w

hink, when he finds

of my gowns, with its back to the door and its head bent over a book, I could have been well on my way to China before I was missed, or, rather, that I was among

u Lov

. To her, it was the divine reagent of all Life's complicated chemistry; the swift turning of the prism, with

"but marriage is a gr

or. As though in answer, the clock struck ten, the canary sang happily, and a rival melody

l the clocks to going and the little dogs to barking outside. Don't let me talk you to death-I've been chatter

me extremely, I wish I kn

, it comes to this-either go on

arria

hed Madame. Her violet e

n. Personally, I feel bound by the solemn oath I took at the altar, 'until death do us part,' and 'forsaking all others keep thee only unto

at the altar, 'Until death or divorce do us part,' or 'Until I see someone else I like better,' there'd be rea

es that masquerade as marriage. Mother used to say," she resumed, after a little, "that when you're more miserable without a man than you think you ev

ous

adame, "in which c

's with me and wretched when he isn't. As he mostly isn't, I'm more wretched than u

f I'm caught in the rain. They think, if they had my gowns and my grooming, that they could win and keep love, which seems to be about all a woman wants. But these things are, in reality, as useless as painting the hou

As far as my taste can discover, it's artistic and even unusual. The dinner my cook sends up every nig

Thing

a sick woman. If I have a headache I don't speak of it. I neither nag nor fret nor scold, and I even have a few parlour tricks which ot

men call 'a good fellow,' admiringly among women and contemptuously among themselves. And, in return, I

ealth and strength and sufficient income. How m

hafing-dish or on the stove, I'd want someone to think it was good, just because I did it! If I embroidered a red rose on a pink satin sofa cushion, or painted a Winter scene on a wooden snow-shovel and hung it up in the parlour, I'd want someone to think

s Cla

id Madame, consolingly

mind your knowing it. If he kisses you dutifully, without a trace of feeling, and, by preference, on your cheek or neck, he doesn

ge changes love, but, with us, it only grew and strengthened. The beginning was no more the fulness of love than an acorn is

May

through me. I've known poverty, defeat, humiliation, doubt, grief, discouragement, despair. I've had illness and death; I've borne children onl

else but love. Believe me, I'd take all you've

," said Mada

head. "That's wh

Why be

n there was another man on earth except my husband, but his persistent neglect has made me open my eyes a little, and I begin to see others, on a far ho

r woman, "you couldn't l

the C

ey give, the sacrifices they make, the neglect and desertions they suffer from, the countless hu

with 'Welcome' printed on us in red letters. Eagerly trustful, we keep on buying tickets to the circus, and never discover unti

ezes are, or in the middle, opposite the tank. Sometimes the band plays and sometimes it doesn't, but all you need in order to be thorou

hed Madame, "that you'

e coming to me still. I only hope and pray that I'll manage to keep my head and not make the fatal, heart-breaking m

Meta

nd circuses, and herds, and precipices and door-mats. I f

hey would only print the picture on the cover of the box, or tell us how many pieces there are, and g

Madame said, rolling u

Edith rose from her chair and came to Madame. The dark hollows under her

in a low tone, "

rn times are too confused for me. The old way would have been to wait, to

ed to

ited and I've done the best I

to act, one knows what to do and the way is clearly opened for one t

ch was right-I'm sure of that. The train had scarcely s

stay with me until yo

into the sweet old face. "Do you

o matter how

ith brushed them aside, half ashamed. "It me

to have you with us

you s

not at all sure, but sh

ith, with a smi