After the Storm

The lady was sobered in a moment.

"To make light of what to you is sacred would be impossible," she

replied.

"I believe it, and therefore I am going to speak of things that are

to me the saddest of my life, and yet are coming to involve the

holiest sentiments. I have more than one reason for desiring now to

let another look below the quiet surface; and I will lift the veil

for your eyes alone. You know that I was married nearly twenty years

ago, and that my wife separated herself from me in less than three

years after our union; and you also know that the separation was

made permanent by a divorce. This is all that you or any other one

knows, so far as I have made communication on the subject; and I

have reason to believe that she who was my wife has been as reserved

in the matter as myself.

"The simple facts in the case are these: We were both young and

undisciplined, both quick-tempered, self-willed, and very much

inclined to have things our own way. She was an only child, and so

was I. Each had been spoiled by long self-indulgence. So, when we

came together in marriage, the action of our lives, instead of

taking a common pulsation, was inharmonious. For a few years we

strove together blindly in our bonds, and then broke madly asunder.

I think we were about equally in fault; but if there was a

preponderance of blame, it rested on my side, for, as a man, I

should have kept a cooler head and shown greater forbearance. But

the time for blame has long since passed. It is with the stern,

irrevocable facts that we are dealing now.

"So bitter had been our experience, and so painful the shock of

separation, that I think a great many years must have passed before

repentance came into either heart--before a feeling of regret that

we had not held fast to our marriage vows was born. How it was with

me you may infer from the fact that, after the lapse of two years, I

deliberately asked for and obtained a divorce on the ground of

desertion. But doubt as to the propriety of this step stirred

uneasily in my mind for the first time when I held the decree in my

hand; and I have never felt wholly satisfied with myself since.

There should be something deeper than incompatibility of temper to

warrant a divorce. The parties should correct what is wrong in

themselves, and thus come into harmony. There is no excuse for

pride, passion and self-will. The law of God does not make these

justifiable causes of divorce, and neither should the law of man. A

purer woman than my wife never lived; and she had elements of

character that promised a rare development. I was proud of her. Ah,

if I had been wiser and more patient! If I had endeavored to lead,

instead of assuming the manly prerogative! But I was young, and

blind, and willful!