"i met howard deane a few nights since. he appears to be sadly out of health and somewhat consumptive," remarked mr. wyman to his wife, a few evenings subsequent to mrs. dalton's departure.
"and the reason is quite apparent. he lives too closely in one atmosphere. he needs a change of surroundings, mental and physical."
"no one of our course of thinking can fail to perceive that the long, uninterrupted companionship of his wife, she being naturally weaker than himself, has so drawn upon his magnetism, that his vitality has become thoroughly exhausted," remarked hugh.
"i do not doubt that it is so. his nature is large and social, and he requires a circle of varied minds to keep him in a good, healthy condition of body and spirit, as we all do; for though they may be those who can unite with one alone, and lose nothing by such exclusiveness, yet generally, the larger the orbit of life, the better the results that accrue to both, and the greater the development of each.
"you are right; yet how closely we have lived together, arline, since we were married."
"because we both had large experiences and had mingled in many spheres, previous to our union."
"right again; ever right," and he gazed on her with tenderest emotion, while she wondered if the time would ever come when she should not hold him as she then did. the thought made her tremble, so deeply did she love this man who supplied her nature so richly every day with that element of manliness which all women need, but so few receive.
"i will invite howard here to spend an evening," said her husband, little knowing how tenderly the heart of his wife was going out to him, at that moment.
the next evening mr. deane came with hugh to tea. mrs. wyman was surprised to see how pale and care-worn he appeared, and longed to reach his mind, that she might give him that life which he so much needed.
mrs. deane, after the recovery of their child, finding her husband's tenderness revived towards her, settled into her own ways of thinking and living more completely than ever. for a time she with her husband lived in a state of undivided love. when that passed away, she was the same exacting woman as before, allowing him no life but what he gathered from her; no thoughts but her own to live upon. in such an atmosphere he drooped, and would have died, but for the timely aid of mr. wyman and his wife; those truth-loving souls who cared not for the popular sentiment when principles were to be maintained, and who stood up courageously for the truth, regardless of those who turned sneeringly aside from them, or ridiculed and misrepresented their views.
mrs. deane's course amply illustrated one of the evils of our present marriage system, the removal of which will cause confusion and perhaps some wrong doing. but we have confusion and wrongs at present, and all history testifies to the truth that revolutions in political, religious and social institutions, though seemingly disastrous for the time, have been followed by better conditions for humanity, and advanced mankind to higher states. in a relation so intimate, so holy, as the union of two souls, human law has but little to do. when it enters as an external agent, with its rites in conformity with custom, this human law is liable to err, but the divine law which governs internal relations can never err. hence, marriage should be subject only to this divine or higher law. the questions which grow out of this statement are many, none of which are probably greater, or about which the public pulse is more sensitive than those relating to property. but they, too, may have had their day, and higher conditions as regards material wealth, be ready to descend upon us. of woman's right to be paid according to her labor-of her right to the college and the various professions, her eternal right to follow her inspiration, and become just what she feels she is fitted for, and thus fulfil her destiny, we have been in the dark, and have groped and stumbled; and our theory and practice of marriage have been as imperfect as all others. whatever has been, has been right and proper for its time, but now a change is called for. the advancement of the race demands it. no more shall one man amass great wealth, and in so doing leave thousands penniless; no more shall politicians, who twaddle and toady for offices, deprive themselves and others of manhood and all that is noble; no more shall the pastor love his money, his position, and the praise of men, better than an opportunity to speak the truth fearlessly.
we are living in a great age, and the age demands great men and women, who dare brave the public voice and popular side, if that voice and side are wrong. we would not confound daring with heroism, or mistake boldness for bravery. nor should we throw our truths away upon the dull and listless. there are seekers enough, who, when they receive these gems of truth, will value them. let those who possess, learn to know when and where to utter them. then will the darkness flee away, for every ray of light aids the advance of the golden age.
mrs. wyman did not speak to howard deane of himself, but upon subjects of equal interest to both, until of his own accord, he alluded to his own state. hugh left the room to write letters, leaving them to that close communion which is never perfect with a third person present.
"i think disease often commences in the mind, and acts upon the body until that may succumb to its power," said mrs. wyman, in answer to a remark of mr. deane upon his bodily state.
"do you think mine is of the mental?" he inquired, looking at her so earnestly that he seemed to penetrate her very being.
"i do."
"what has caused it, can you tell me?"
"i think the need of cheerful and varied society. your nature is large, social in its proclivities, and has great needs. it is therefore wrong for one person to claim all of your society, and injurious to you to grant it."
"i know it, and, feel the truth, but society allows me no communion or association with women. i need their society more than all else just now-their thought, their inspiration."
"take whatever comes in your way, when it is in order, and let society quibble. how is the world to be made any better, if each one goes on in the old way for fear of speech."
"yet we cannot explain our course to those who do not perceive these truths, and our innocent enjoyment may be misconstrued."
"can the higher ever be revealed to the lower? can the less understand the greater? never. through the moral and natural worlds no recognition takes place, save when the lower comes up to a higher plane. the rose which needs more sunshine, more air, can never expect to reveal its need to, or be understood by one of the fungus order. we must work and wait, and expect to be misunderstood every day of our lives. we may be in order and in perfect harmony to some higher law, the relation of which to ourselves it is impossible to explain to our brother, our sister, or our friend. there would be no individual life, if there were no separate harmonies and methods of action. you need, my friend, more of woman's sphere to help you to live in strength and harmony with the one you are united to. she is mentally strong, and gives you of your own quality too much. find your balance, your mental and spiritual poise, by mingling with those who supply your deficiency."
"you have given me life, mrs. wyman, and hope. if i had your independent mind, i might be my own helper."
"i may be the one to give you independence of thought and action, or, rather, to stimulate yours, for all have some independence."
"i feel stronger, now, bodily, than i have for a long time," he said, looking at his watch, "and hope i shall have the pleasure of seeing you again soon."
"come whenever you feel to; you will always be welcome."
they bade each other good night; he, refreshed and encouraged by her thoughts and words; she, happier, as all are, by extending their life.
but we must turn another leaf, and look at life as it appears to the narrow-minded and opinionated.
"you have been gone a long time, howard; i'm very tired," were the words that came from the lips of mrs. deane, as she looked at the clock, which was just striking ten as her husband entered.
"not so very late, my dear. i am sorry your head aches; would you not feel better to go out a little oftener?"
"howard, you know i am not able. besides, i'm weary of society. i do not find any congenial souls here; the most of them are growing so radical i feel heart-sick and weary whenever i think of mingling with them. no, howard, i must be left to myself; my home and my husband are all on earth i care for. by the way," she said, a trifle brighter, "have you heard that hugh wyman and his wife have been the means of separating a mrs. dalton and husband? i do wish that man was at the bottom of the red-"
"mabel!"
"why do you always flare up so when i mention his name? i do believe that in your soul you care more for him than all the good men in this village."
"i do."
"you do? then you are no better than he, in my opinion, and others, howard; you will ruin your reputation if you associate with him."
"i wish i was half as good as he is; that i had one fraction of his independence and manhood to help me through life. o, mabel, lay aside your prejudices, and learn to see life for yourself, with unclouded vision."
"you would have me mingle, then, with people who have no respect for the holy law of marriage; and people who talk as coolly of separation of men and women as they would of parting animals?"
"who told you they were the cause of their separation?"
"mrs. ford. she spent an hour with me this evening."
"and you believe her, and think that she has all the facts of the case?"
"i do. she is a christian woman, and leads a blameless life."
mr. deane felt the peaceful state he had that evening gained, fast leaving him, and he sought his bed, hoping to lose in sleep the inharmony that swept over him. he did not, however, and morning found him unrefreshed and weak, the mind restless, seeking for something which it could not grasp, though within its reach.
"i think i will not go to the office to-day," said he, after trying to swallow a little breakfast.
"if you are too ill to work, you surely need a doctor. i shall send for dr. barrows when charley goes to school," said his wife.
"do no such thing. i am not sick. i only need rest."
"you would have your own way, howard, if you were dying; but i really think you do look ill, and ought to have something done."
that "something" she could not do. she could not reach the mind which needed ministering to, because she had kept her own so impoverished.
reader, did you ever have one attempt to do anything for you, and while the labor was being performed, have your nerves strained to their highest tension, and the assistance thus kindly and obligingly rendered, wearying you far more than to have done all yourself? such was somewhat the way in which mrs. deane administered to her husband's needs that day. she made him realize every step she took. she called him a hundred times from his meditations into her sphere of thought, concerning some petty detail or minor question. she professed to take care of him, but kept him ever caring for her.
"howard, these blinds need new fastenings. howard, the children's shoes are wearing out. howard, i wonder if my new dress will fit; i fear it's spoiled. howard, i must have fifty dollars to get the children's hats and dresses for next month, i'm behind-hand now. now you are at home, do you suppose you could help me arrange some magazines i want bound?"
"i'm tired to death. i've been up and down stairs twenty times, at least, this morning," she said, as she handed him some drink which he asked to have brought up when convenient. all these questions, suggestions and requests added to his weakness, so that by night, he concluded he would have been far better off at his office.
when night came mrs. deane was too weary to bathe his aching head. they occupied, as they should not, the same room, and exhausted each other, and arose in the same debilitated state in the morning.
"yesterday was a most fatiguing day to me," said his wife. "are you well enough to go to the office, to-day, howard?" he thought he was, and thanked heaven that he had strength enough to get there.
it was no wonder he sought what gave him life and strength. it was his right, and he followed the strong impulse of his being, and went often to the home of hugh wyman. he felt greatly relieved on learning that hugh and his wife had no knowledge of the separation of mr. and mrs. dalton, until it was over; and could not realize that it made no difference to them what judgment public opinion passed upon them. they looked only to the right and justice of the movement; he had not sufficient strength thus to brave the opposition of popular error. his vital life, the real breath of his manhood came to him only in the inspiring presence of hugh and arline. in their atmosphere he grew, therefore he felt drawn to them by a power that he could not withstand, and would not if he could.
the years swept on with majestic step. many went over the silent stream; among them mrs. temple and her two children, leaving the home of herbert desolate and cheerless. dawn stood beside her to the last, and saw her go down to the valley, and then she could almost feel the pulsing of her new birth.
"how fast they travel home," said hugh, when the rosy lips were sealed forever, and the poor stricken husband looked on the form that would never more spring to greet his coming.
"where is she now?" again and again the question would force itself upon herbert's mind, until his heart so wearied with its long watching, and waiting, and hoping, sank overpowered with grief within him. three days had worked a sad change in his family, by that disease which was laying parents and children in one grave, and left few households unvisited.
we have been so poorly schooled in the past, that it is not strange when one passes from this world, or state of existence, to another, that we should speak of them as having gone away, little realizing that loving hearts can never be separated: that what we call spirit life is but a natural continuation of this, with no "river" running between.
words could not add to the impressiveness of the scene, when, as the friends met to look their last upon those they should know no more as of earth, the grief-stricken husband and father bowed himself and kissed the cold lips of the forms that once enshrined the spirits of his wife and children. many mourners were there beneath the shadow of the cloud that had not as yet disclosed its silver lining; but when was read that beautiful psalm: "the lord is my shepherd, i shall not want," every soul was lifted into the region of faith; that faith so calm and comforting to
"hearts that are broken with losses,
and weary with dragging the crosses,
too heavy for mortals to bear."
it seemed to herbert to be florence that they placed in the earth; he could not separate her from that lovely form of clay. how could he see her lowered into the grave, and his two darlings beside her? how bear this great grief? not alone. only by the help of him whose ways are not as ours, and who doeth all things well. long was the night of sorrow; it seemed as though day would never dawn, so deep and chastening was his grief.
"i would i had your faith to sustain me," he said to hugh, a few weeks after the burial.
"it's the only thing which takes the sting of death away, and makes the tomb but a passage to the skies," was the response. "i would not be without its blessed, consoling influence for all this world can give, aside from the light which we daily receive into our lives from those who have passed the vale."
"are they not about us the same, whether we believe in their presence or not?"
"no, not the same. you are not the same to your friend who has little or no faith in your life, and your motives of action, as you are to one who has full trust and belief."
"no, i am not. in order, therefore, that our unseen friends may fully aid us, we must believe in their presence and ability to do so. christ could not help some because of their unbelief."
"even so. he who gives us no heed, has no communion with us. but the faith of which i speak, is not gained at once; it is of a slow and natural growth. again and again must we thrust our hand through the darkness, ere we grasp the anchor. often will the cloud envelope us, and all seem dark as night. there will be hours and days when florence will come into your atmosphere, bringing her own state of loneliness and longing to be felt by you; days when you must both mourn that the veil is dropped between you; but above all, the sun of spiritual light will shine gloriously."
"then you think that they suffer after they have gone?"
"i certainly do. it is perfectly reasonable to suppose that they mourn for us as we for them. reverse the case. suppose that you were where she now is, and that she were here, and that you made strong efforts to approach her, and having thus far succeeded, endeavored to impress her with the fact of your presence. if she recognized you, would you not feel rejoiced? and if she did not, would you not feel grieved, and all the more so, if instead of honestly admitting self-evident facts, she sought to evade them?"
"true; all that would be most natural. i have never thought of it in that light before. do you think i may sometime feel and know that florence is with me?"
"i trust, indeed, i know you will. in some unexpected manner some human instrument may be used to give your mind the test it needs."
"will it be real to me? o, tell me if i shall feel and know that it is really her?"
"if genuine there will be no doubt in your mind. all this is something which must be experienced, and not told. a thrill will come to your heart and brain which you have never felt before, when you first realize the possibility of our departed friends communing with us, and this because the truth will be more intimately related to your inner self than anything you have before felt. dawn is too much affected by the death of florence, yet, to see her; too much in her own state. when she returns to herself-becomes disengaged from the anxious condition of florence, she will see and bring her in communion with you; yet a stranger can do better, and give your mind more satisfactory evidence of her ability to speak to you."
"one of the conditions of this communion has been, that we must receive it through strangers. this robs it of its sacredness to me."
"you will never have that feeling after having once felt her presence through another. you will feel the blending of humanity more sensibly, and see how we are all conjoined, that there is very little that is yours or mine exclusively; yet we hold all things, and all hearts that inspire us. human souls belong to god and humanity. it follows not, because one is near us, blessing us with her daily presence, that she is ours, wholly. she belongs to humanity, and becomes ours through dissemination. it is like a truth which we give unto others; it is more within us, the more we give it forth. whatever thrills me with joy, is far more to me when i have told it to a multitude. it is the same with those we love; the more humanity claims them, the greater they are to mankind, the more they become to us. florence was more to you, because she was beloved by dawn and myself. if she was much to you here, how full and replete with love will be her ministration to you now. her immortal spirit is with you each hour, and will act on you through all time. when you know that she is with you, you will feel the thrill of her joy, and your hours will be greatly relieved of their present loneliness. it is strange that for so many years we have laid our friends in the tomb and sat sorrowing at its door. but spiritualism has rolled away the stone, as the angel did of old. it comes with its teachings and humble appeals to earnest, truthful souls. it reaches our daily wants, and is to us a life-book, not a musty, worthless creed. it is a stream of life, flowing from heart to heart; not for one only, not for a few, but for all. it winds by eternal habitations, and flows to the city of our god. happy is he who drinks from this lowly stream, so untainted by the opinions of men, and clear and crystal. herbert! happy will thy day be when thou hast tasted of its living waters."
