been done.
“I am afraid, Amanda, that you have only made matters worse,” said she, as soon as she could venture to suggest any thing at all upon the subject. “It is always easier to prevent than to heal a breach. The day has not yet closed. There is time to go back. Your husband need never know what has been in your mind. This hasty act may be entirely concealed from him.”
But the long suffering wife had been roused to opposition. A new current of feeling was sweeping across and controlling her mind. She was, therefore, deaf to the voice of reason. Still her friend, as in duty bound, urged her to think more calmly on the subject, and to retrace the steps she had taken. But all was in vain. This being so, her husband, as has been seen, called upon Mr. Lane, and informed him that his wife was at his house. From this interview Mr. Edmondson returned disheartened, and reported all that had been said on both sides to his wife.
“My husband saw Mr. Lane last evening,” said Mrs. Edmondson to Amanda on the next day.
“He did!” Amanda looked eagerly into the face of her friend, while she became much agitated.
“Yes. He called to let him know that you were here.”
“What did he say?”
“He wishes you to return. All will be forgotten and forgiven.”
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“I have done nothing for which I desire forgiveness,” said Amanda, coldly, and with the air of one who is hurt by the words of another. “If he will not have me return as his wife and equal, I can never go back.”
“For the sake of your child, Amanda, you should be willing to bear much.”
“My child shall not grow, up and see her mother degraded.”
“She is his child as well as yours. Do not forget that,” said Mrs. Edmondson. “And it is by no means certain that he will permit you to retain the possession of an object so dear to him.”
The face of Mrs. Lane instantly flushed at this, a suggestion which had not before been presented to her mind.
“Did he refer to this subject in conversing with your husband?” inquired Amanda, with forced calmness.
“He did.”
“What did he say?”
“That, in any event, he could not and would not be separated from his child. And you know, Amanda, that the law will give to him its guardianship.”
“The law!” There was a huskiness in Mrs. Lane’s voice.
“Yes, Amanda, the law. It is well for you to view this matter in all its relations. The law regards the father as the true guardian of the child. If, therefore, you separate yourself from your husband, you must expect to bear a separation from your child; for that will be most likely to follow.”
“Did he speak of the law?” asked Mrs. Lane, in a still calmer voice, and with a steady eye.
“It would not be right to conceal from you this fact, Amanda. He did do so. And can you wholly blame him? It is his child as well as yours. He loves it, as you well know; and, as its father, he is responsible for it to society and to Heaven. This separation is your act. You may deprive him of your own society; but, have you a right, at the same time, to rob him of his child? I speak plainly; I would not be your friend did I not do so. Try, for a little while, to look away from yourself, and think of your husband; and especially of the consequences likely to arise to your child from your present act. It will not be a mere separation with passive endurance of pain on either side. There will come the prolonged effort of the father to recover his child, and the anguish and fear of the mother, as she lives in the constant dread of having it snatched from her hands. And that must come, inevitably, the final separation. You will have to part from your child, Amanda, if not in the beginning, yet finally. You know your husband to be of a resolute temper Do not give him a chance to press you to extremity. If he should come to the determination to recover his child from your hands, he will not stop short of any means to accomplish his purpose.”
Mrs. Lane made no reply to this; nor did she answer to any further remark, appeal, or suggestion of her friend, who soon ceased to speak on the subject and left her to her own reflections, hoping that they might lead her to some better purpose than had yet influenced her in the unhappy business. On the day after, Mr. Edmondson met Lane in the street.
“I was about calling to see you,” said the latter, “on the subject of this unhappy difficulty, to which, so reluctantly to yourself, you have become a party. It may be that I am something to blame. Perhaps I have been too exacting—too jealous of my prerogative as a husband. At any rate, I am willing to admit that such has been the case; and willing to yield something to the morbid feelings of my wife. What is her present state of mind?”
Mr. Edmondson looked surprised.
Remarking this, Lane said quickly, “Is she not at your house?”
“No,” replied Mr. Edmondson, “she left us yesterday. We believed that she had gone home. My wife had a long conversation with her, in which she urged her, by every consideration, to return; and we had reason to think, when she left our house, that she went back to you.”
“Such is not the case,” said Mr. Lane, with disappointment, and something of sadness in his tone. “I have not seen her since the morning of our unhappy difference. Where can she have gone?”
Mr. Edmondson was silent.
“Did she say that she was going to return home?” asked Mr. Lane.
“No. But we had reason to think that such was her intention. Have you heard nothing from her?”
“Not a word.”
“It is strange!”
