■ ■ Mrs. ^e^mUgBam M jfourna I 1 A |A = -^— <- Ai — ° B c_ o m S 1 c\ ^= ___ 2 1 U | IE 3 S = CD V = = ^ ^^^ [ — = i h ^ iiii__ ... o - === ~ 8 = __ O ^^™ 1 — 1 — -< 1 3 ■ ^w*-*,. ,....;. >■ ■ Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES R 7 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL bonbon MACMILLAN AND CO. 1869 All right* reserved LONDON : PRINTED BY SPOTTISVVOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUAKE AND PARLIAMENT STREET • 7 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. PART I. Married six weary weeks to-day ! How sad is life that was so gay ! How desolate the street appears — Alas, that I must live in it ! I see the houses through my tears, And do not like the sight one bit ! How can I pass the heavy hours Without my darling birds and flow'rs — A scamper on the lawn — a ride — B K MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. With other girls a merry chatter, Where we our partners can deride, The merits of our dress decide, And settle much important matter? A comfortable luncheon, then Croquet, or archery ; and tea With half a dozen lively men Who come to laugh and flirt with mel O life was sweet and beautiful ! Its pretty pleasures all my own ; O life of life was very full, And ev'ry minute lived alone ! And ev'ry minute was so strong, It brought its little new-born bliss, Sweeping in tender light along, Or leaving shadows like a kiss. l 5 MRS. JERN INGHAM'S JOURNAL. What lent its glory to the flow'r, And gave the nightingale her pow'r, And made the sky so very blue 1 My little heart, could it be you 1 My little heart, why did you beat As if delighted to be me 1 O, was It youth that was so sweet 1 ? Or was it youth's sweet liberty 1 They said I danced when I should walk (My gay feet worked my gayer will); They said I laughed when I should talk, And chattered when I should be still. I'd wake with laughing in the night — Ah, happy nights I can't forget ! — I'd catch my dreams they were so bright, And find my thoughts were brighter yet. B 2 MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURAAL. I'd wink my little eyes and peep, With slumber waging weary strife ; — It seemed so hard to be asleep And lose the smallest bit of life ! Of life that moved with airy sway, Like singing music — making play Like wavelets dancing on the sea In even measures — all for me ! And when the sun illumed the dark, I'd sing good morning to the sky, And wake the little lazy lark, And curtsey to the butterfly. O, sweet to flutter 'mid the grass, In charming dews the wise condemn, And when the busy swallows pass To nod my friendly head at them ! MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. It did die litde squirrels good To see a thing as gay as I, When I came running through the wood To hide from the delighted sky ; The quaint old cuckoo said his say, I mock'd him with my artful word ; I think he knows not to this day Whether I am a girl or bird ! 'Twas ' cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo,' he ; And 'cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo,' I: — It was The grandest sight to see That puzzled cuckoo round me fly ! In ev'ry bird I found a friend — A confidante in ev'ry leaf; The little breezes would attend, The robins knew I was their chief. MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. The good old trees would rustle so, In stately gossip, when I came ; The grass that kissed my feet, I know, Kissed no one else's quite the same. Life was a most triumphant fact ! — What could my ecstasy destroy? I did not care to think or act — Just to be living was a joy ! lovely earth ! O lovely sky ! — 1 was in love with nature, I ; And nature was in love with me • — O, lovely life — when I was free ! And then I'd spread my shining wings, And fly away without a care To those bewitching balls and things Where I discovered I was fair. MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. And when I found how fair I am, I felt a new delight in life, Nor guessed that Mr. Jerningham Had asked me from Papa as wife. How vexed I was when I was told ! I hardly could my patience keep ; And then Papa began to scold, And then poor I began to weep. But one thing's pleasant, I confess; Marriage a trousseau doth entail ; I had 4o choose a satin dress, And was allowed to wear a veil ! The wedding day came all too soon- I'd rather it had not been mine — But still I liked the Honeymoon At Paris and the pretty Rhine. MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. And now Fve not a thing to do, And nobody to say a word ; I've got to keep my house, 'tis true,- / keep a house ! — it's too absurd ! She's such a clever woman, Cook, I heartily dislike her look ; She really seems to fancy I Know nothing useful 'neath the sky, And with her stuck-up chin and head Her silence is a thing to dread ! And then when she begins to speak, She asks such dreadful questions — O ! How many quarts of milk a week Shall I require ? how should I know ! And what may be the price of coals ? How many tons will be enough? Shall she take quartern loaves, or rolls? And do I want the kitchen stuff? MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. I've ordered dinner — 'tis a fact That I was frightened at the act ! Says I, ' A leg of lamb you'll get/ Says she, ' It's not in season yet ; ' So turning somewhere for relief, I said, ' Then get a leg of beef : ' She look'd so keenly in my face She made, me feel the whole disgrace, And so I cried, ' Get anything,' And ran upstairs to play and sing : — I hope we'll have some dinner, though, Or John may be displeased, you know. "Why did they make me marry him 1 Life was so bright and is so dim ! I cannot understand why men Should stop their growth at five feet ten ; I meant my husband to be tall, — Short men have such a shabby look, — io MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. And then his nose is rather small, Without a notion of a hook. I wish he was a barrister, Then he could talk and cause a stir, And wear a lovely curly wig, To make his face look brown and big; A captain in a uniform Might take a woman's heart by storm ; And sailors are the best of all, Such charming partners at a ball : But just a banker — don't you see, It is so very tame and flat — Why did he want to marry me? How could Papa consent to that? John Jerningham's a horrid name ! Alas ! my cards must bear the same ! I do not think that it is wise Young men should be so spick and span ; Jl/JHS. JERNINGHAftPS JOURNAL. u John is so dreadfully precise, He ought to be a clergyman ! He says I am untidy — he Dislikes to see a hair astray, And everything I use, you see, He thinks I ought to put away. He will not let me walk alone, Studies he likes me still to con — 0, how I wish I was my own, And never had belonged to John ! At breakfast it is rather nice — Making the tea is like a play ; Only he" gives me good advice, And tells me how to spend the day. At ten he goes — always at ten, The most precise of business men : At six I know he will return, But rather stiff and taciturn, Till dinner makes him kind and good — I think men look a little small, 12 MRS. JERNTNGHAWS JOURNAL. They do depend so much on food, While we need hardly dine at all ! The dinner over, as I rise, He, leaning in his easy chair, Regards me with approving eyes, Saying my muslin dress is fair. But if he wants to kiss me, then (Another tiresome way with men) I pout — because it is no joke Saluting lips perfumed with smoke. MRS. JERXINGHAM'S JOURNAL, To-night we're going to a ball; John says I must not dance too much — John says I must not waltz at all — He thinks men murder with their touch ! At least I have a lovely dress, And when my hair is frizzled dry, Done in a fashionable mess, It's quite the thing — and so am I ! I've got a charming little waist, And I can make it smaller yet ; John hates to see me tightly laced, But now and then I must forget! 14 MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. My skirt is gored delightfully, With train so skilfully design'd, It floats away three yards from me, While I sail on nor look behind. . Well — it is over — let it go — When I was ready for the ball, John said my dress was cut too low, And talked about a horrid shawl. I felt that I should like to cry, So down I sat and tried to pout ; John fixed me with his steady eye, And said I should not go without. Most kindly he remarked, 'You know There's no occasion you should go ! ' And then he gave a little laugh, And fetched me my Chantilly scarf. My robe was of another lace, And as he wrapped my shoulders round, MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. 15 I thought if he but turned his face, I'd dash the thing upon the ground. The room was splendid — hung with flags, And flow'rs as bright as they were sweet, And all the ladies dressed in bags Straight from their waists down to their feet. Fixed on John's arm, I moved about, And thought he might be more alert, And wished some man would take me out, That I once more might dance and flirt. The moonlight through the window came (I wor\der if it likes a ball), And laid itself in silver flame Across the floor and up the wall : The dancers did not pause or start, Affrighted at its beauty sweet ; I think the girl can have no heart Who treads the moonlight 'neath her feet ! 1 6 MRS. JERN1NG HAM'S JOURNAL. Invited by my host Sir James, I helped to form a prim quadrille. He gaily told the people's names, And why some danced and some sat still. To Lady Graeme John took me then, And said, ' I'll leave you safely here : I'm wanted by some other men To play a little rubber, dear ! ' I did not tell him I was glad (I wonder if I was or no !) Would he have minded if I had? I thought it cool of him to go, So talked and laughed with Lady Graeme — A pretty woman, kind and gay ; And she politely did the same, And so the moments slid away. Up came a man I liked to see Extremely — for he look'd at me. Just six feet two (delightful height), With lazy eyes and classic nose, MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. 17 And teeth that flashed, they were so white, And air of indolent repose, And trailing whiskers, rather red, But quite brown hair upon his head. He sauntered up with languid air, To Lady Graeme he murmured low, 'Aw — real-ly — aw — I don't much care — Aw— introduce me — don't you know?' And with a glance politely free, Just with his eyebrows signed at me. The waltz is forming — off we go — How .could I think of John's desire ? He danced divinely — to and fro, We whirl away and never tire. The stately frizzle of my hair Just hung about a little bit. My scarf? I'd left it on a chair, I'm sure I had no need of it — 18 MRS. JERNINGHAArS JOURNAL. Reflected from the shining glass, I saw our charming figures pass, And must confess I thought we were A most distingti£-\o6kmg pair. Enraptured at the rapid flight, My heart leapt up with new delight, And sparkled in my lips and eyes, And flushed my cheek with rosy dyes. Gay words and gayer laughter sprang, As round and round we lightly swang. When in came John ! appalling sight ! Ah, John, you should have stayed away Is it the moonlight makes you white? Or is it passion kept at bay? The naughty spirit seized me then, Which makes us women tease the men. As John stood- scowling in the door, I danced more wildly than before. MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. 19 The music ceased, so cease we must, My partner bent and whispered praise, John saw how he admir'd, I trust — He ne'er look'd so in all his clays. The roses on the window lay, And almost touch'd me as I stood. They were as good as they were gay, Alas ! I felt more gay than good ! Roses are very beautiful, And innocent, and sure to please : But even roses would be dull Without their butterflies and bees ! Quite cool and pleasant, John came up, Offered his arm, and said 'twas late. 'I will not go before I sup.' ■' You must,' he cried, 'the horses wait.' c 2 20 MRS. JERNINGIIAAPS JOURNAL. He held himself extremely high : I did not like his looks by half, I think I'd have begun to cry, Only I felt inclin'd to laugh ! He wrapp'd me in the cloaking room, With air of most portentous gloom ; No carriage waiting in the street, He called a cab, and off we went ; I kept on dancing with my feet, And felt too lively to repent. Arrived at home, he paid the fare, In silence led me to my room, In silence placed me in a chair, Then stood erect to speak my doom- Saying in voice with anger fraught, ' I told you not to waltz, I thought.' My spirit rose at being chid — And leaning languid in my chair MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. 21 I answered, 'Did you? — so you did — It's late, I think — I'll brush my hair.' John ! you frowned witli such a frown, 1 almost thought you'd knock me down, And felt excited, pleased, and vext, Wondering what was coming next. Silent he stood — in silence looked — And tho' my wrath I nursed and cooked, It gave my heart a little turn, That silence was so strangely stern. Then with reproachful solemn face He sat "him in my writing place, And took my paper, pen and ink — Well, John, that's rather cool, I think ! And so he wrote and wrote and wrote — And I my ringlets brush and plait, As he does up each tiny note, I wonder what he means by that ! 22 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. He rings the bell, and Fanny knocks — ' Three letters for the letter-box ! ' Then turns to me with tranquil air — 'The summer-night has met the day, You must have fmish'd with your hair : But I have something still to say : I shall not take you out at all This spring to any other ball. I've written notes to Mrs. Payne, To Lady Vaux and Colonel Vane, Explaining that we cannot go.' ' Oh John ! you never have done so ! ' ' Of course I have ! ' his eyes flash light ; ' My wife to waltz I do not choose : I've learned the task she taught to-night, Another lesson I refuse.' ' Oh John ! you know — I never meant ' — ' It is too late,' he said, and went. And I, undrest, began to weep, And fairly cried myself to sleep. MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. We met at breakfast — hard and cold Was John — and I was dignified — I thought it was not right to scold And then shut up a six weeks' bride ! I read my letters, he the news, Calmly I handed him his tea, And his politeness can't refuse To cut a slice of ham for me. And now and then a look I slid Out" of the corner of my eyes; But glance at me, not once I did From this philosopher surprise, And then I sighed — a little loud, And then I rattled with my cup, But John read on serene and proud, And never once — not once — looked up ! 24 MRS. JERNINGHAArS JOURNAL. He does not love me ! — whence the thought, Or why it came — or how it fell — Or if I cared — or what I sought — Or false or true I cannot tell. He rose at ten to say goodbye, I said it too — I think he sigh'd ; There was a trouble in his eye, And I again felt dignified ! O dreary, dreary drawing-room, Where never merry sound is heard — O little chamber full of gloom, The cage of a reluctant bird ! There is a shadow in the street : There is a shadow on my heart. O sky and grass you are so sweet : O London house how sad thou art ! MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. I feel the outer shadow creep To meet the shadow in ray breast, And shut my eyes or I should weep With such a weary sense of rest. could I stand beneath the sky, With shining grass about my feet, And catch one bright blue butterfly : I think that life would be too sweet ! The shadows darken as I sit Around this home that is my own : 1 feel a sudden fear of it, I am so lonely and alone. How wearily the hours pass by, And yet the day is beautiful. O was he sorry 1 did he sigh 1 O I am young, and life is dull ! 26 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. It is no use that John should talk, How can I stay at home all day? My head aches— I must take a walk, What harm can happen on the way 1 ? Through half a dozen streets I run ; All nicely dressed : free as the air : Free as the wind : gay as the sun : If John is cross I will not care ! I enter on a lovely lawn, Where trees a happy shadow made ; I ask the name — almost in scorn, "Tis Kensington,' the woman said. O lovely lawn of Kensington, How very good and kind thou art, To put such radiant colours on, To please one little longing heart ! MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. 27 Fair is the life by any led, That holds no brighter joy than this, The pleasant sky above the head, And daisy buds the feet to kiss. Who do I see beneath the trees ?— Unless my vision plays me false, That charming fellow sure to please — My partner in that wicked valse ! garden full of new delight ! — He says gay words ; I make replies ; 1 know he is enchanted quite, And he admires me with his eyes : "We walk, we sit, we sit, we walk — O happy chance that brought us there ! How I enjoy his sprightly talk And knowledge that he thinks me fair ! He slyly hints with half a smile At how I vanished from the ball, MRS, JERNINGHAlWS JOURNAL. And lets me understand the while That when / went, joy went from all ! He's not a thing to do, I see, But talk to me 'neath summer sky ; The hours pass on, and so do we — If he is happy, so am I. I'm flirting just a little bit — But flirting keeps a girl alive : I turn my watch and look at it — I almost scream — 'tis half-past five ! I go in haste — he sees me home ; I beg him not— he says he will : I'm so afraid lest John should come ; The terror almost makes me ill. When Westbourne Terrace is in sight I stop him firmly, once for all, To persevere he's too polite, But begs to be allowed to call : MRS. JERNIXGIIAM'S JOURNAL. 29 I faintly murmur, ' Number eight ' ; He shakes my hand with tender touch, And laughing cries, ' I see you're late — I fear the husband scolds too much ! ' grand escape ! I'm barely in When John comes knocking to the door ; 1 feel as if I'd sinned a sin, I never felt so strange before. At dinner John is solemn still ; I'm too excited far to eat, But John would eat or well or ill (Men~never seem to turn from meat, Their dinner never comes amiss). When to the drawing-room I go He does not ask me for a kiss — He does not care for me, I know ! How can I tell him that I did The very thing he most forbid? — MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. I think he'll kill me ; but I'll try, I hope I could not act a lie. In stately pride our tea we drink, Now is the time to speak, I think ; But John speaks first, ' Pray, have you read The book I marked for you?' he said. ' 1 1 no ; I never opened it ; 'You spend your time as you think fit.' Grimly he answered, 'Will you play The symphony you learned to-day?' ' I did not learn one.' ' Ah, indeed, You did not care to play or read ; What did you do 1 ' What could I say 1 Tell him the truth I never can, Which is — I walked about all day With an extremely pleasant man ! And so I murmur, ' Many things,' And from my fingers pull the rings. MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. 31 John looks at me, I look at him — His eye is stern, and mine is dim : He takes a book — some pamphlet light, Nor says another word that night. 32 MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. He called to-day — sent up two cards ; For the first time I learned his name- Arthur Fitzmaurice, of the Guards : O how I wish John's was the same ! I thought I must not let him in — Visits from men John holds a sin, Unless he's present when they call, To make the talk political : But just as ' Not at home,' I cry, His entrance is his sole reply — ■ So easy, smiling, tall, and gay, I'm charmed he did not go away. I chatter like a merry girl; He talks of half a hundred things — MRS. JERNINGHAiWS JOURNAL. Of how to wear the latest curl, Of how divinely Nilsson sings, Of how the Prince upon the Nile Has bravely bagged his crocodile, While Ministers will hardly dare To bag a paltry Irish mare ; Of how no fellow in the land Would undertake to understand Or for the hidden meanings look That give its weight to Browning's ' Book,' While beauties stare him in the face In every line of ' Lady Grace,' And 'tis a work of love alone To make those beauties all his own. JO Each little word is slyly meant To introduce a compliment, And show (although he does not stare) He thinks me pretty, nice, and fair, — D 34 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. Just in the way some people can — The way that makes a pleasant man I Ah, as we speak the present flies, And forms the past before our eyes ! With half a smile and half a sigh, So earnest is his last good-bye, That Juliet's words I could repeat, And own the pain of parting sweet MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. 35 A fortnight since a word I writ ! Each day was beautiful and kind, But, somehow, when I'd done with it It left a little sting behind. I can't believe that they are wrong— The converse sweet and merry walk : Why should I have my legs and tongue If 'tis a sin to run and talk? 1 wish I'd let John truly know, But then the meetings he'd forbid, And shut me up and scold me so, And be annoyed at all I did. D 2 36 MRS. JERNINGHALTS JOURNAL. If Arthur was my husband, then I'd never talk with other men, A tctc-a-tcte with him would be The most enchanting chat for me — ■ He is so charming and refined, And all I say he seems to mind ; So 'tis not that I could not prove Good wife to husband that I love ; But that my husband's not the one I can like best beneath the sun. Why, since the evening of the ball He hardly spoke to me at all Until last night, all suddenly, He sat him down and lectured me : He call'd me headstrong, giddy, wild, And chid me like a naughty child, Then spoke of meekness, patience, faith, The woman he could love till death, ' The perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command.' MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. ' I'm ready to command,' I said ; And then I cried and hung my head : He asked me did I love him] what Could I reply? — -I answered not ! And then he stared in sudden gloom, And stalked about and left the room. Why did he marry me? I see He does not care a bit for me ! Ah, if he did, he would not scold, Nor wish me to be dull and old ; His happy love would gild my days With glances fond and tender praise ; — A petted Queen, I'd shine on all, And then — ah, me ! — I'd give a ball : I softly ask'd him if I might (By Arthur's generous advice) ; His answer was uncivil quite — O John, your manners are not nice ! 38 MRS. JERNINGIIAM'S JOURNAL. And Arthur says men should not reign, That is the woman's place, 'tis plain ; And Arthur says such eyes as mine Would change to day the darkest night, And those who think such eyes divine Are those for whom they wear their light. To lock the sunlight in a room, Trying to make it shine by rule, And keep the outer world in gloom, Would be the action of a fool ; And he who'd shut me up alone, Nor let me fling about my rays, But keep me only for his own Is just as silly, Arthur says. You plant a lily in a cave — Poor, pretty thing, it can but die ; You would enchain the ocean wave — It dares you as it dances by ! MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. 39 It mocks you with its ceaseless foam, Your dripping heads you fain would free, And little laughters slyly come For him who would enchain the sea. And I must gently fade away, And like the lily end my days, Or like the waves be brave and gay, And spurn my fetters, Arthur says. 4Q MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. And day by day the days glide on, And I glide on and cannot stay ; I wonder if the busy sun Is tired of always making day ! Weary with an excess of light, I think he holds the dark a boon ; I think he'd like to see the night, And would enjoy to be the moon ! O change, I hold you best of all ; Nothing is good that must remain ; Vanish my street — my houses fall, And let me be a girl again ! MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. 41 To-night we dined with Lady Graeme ; I wore my skyblue silk — the same At Mrs. Payne's I'd meant to wear, Had John allowed me to be there. Fanny my hair did well enough, Over a most triumphant puff. It rose a yard above my head, Crowned by a wreath of roses red. Sir James, goodhumoured, frank, and gay, Received us in his pleasant way, And cried ' At half a dozen balls, And all in vain, I've sought your face : Believe me in those garnished halls, \<>ne shone with such a saucy grace — Alas, why do you stay away? Youth is the time to make your play.' 42 MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. I answer'd coolly, ' Yes — 'tis so — My husband will not let me go, All invitations he's refused.' John blushed at that, and looked confused, But I was glad that he should see His dear Sir James thought much of me. 'Twas a large party — we were late ! Sir James said, ' Ring the dinner bell, For one young man we will not wait. Arthur's a most uncertain swell.' The door flew open as he spoke — ' Captain Fitzmaurice ' said the man, I almost thought it was a joke, And little shivers through me ran. I bit my lips and sat upright ; I blushed and felt extremely hot ; He bowed to me with air polite, Looking as if he saw me not — Nodded at others, smiled to some, And said, ' Aw — aw — I'm glad I've come ! ' MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. 43 When good Sir James, as bridal guest, Politely gave his arm to me, I thought that he must be in jest ; For I forgot my dignity. It seemed so strange that I should go Heading the grand procession so. The table was extremely gay With little heaps of fruit and flow'rs, And all the dinner hid away, And eating it took two good hours. Arthur sat opposite to me, And never seemed my face to see ; Asking the lady at his side, ' Aw — really — is that girl a bride 1 ' I thought it wrong to make pretence With such a show of innocence, And something whispered very low. John never would have acted so ! 44 MRS. JERNItfGHAftTS JOURNAL. The ladies to the drawing-room go, Tis deadly lively there, I own ; Why is it so extremely slow, When women find themselves alone 1 We sit about and mildly chat, Each sips and stirs her coffee cup ; But conversation's rather flat, We want the men to brisk us up. They come, and round my chair they crowd, My spirits rise, my heart is free ; Some murmur low, some chatter loud ; And all that's said is said to me. I bandy repartee and wit, With smiles their nonsense I reward, Whatever's said I answer it, And all I say the men applaud ! John stands and talks to Lady Grasme, Unsympathetic, calm, and cool ;• MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. 45 But then John always is the same, To care for that I'd be a fool. But Arthur gnaws his handsome lip, And looks with thunder in his eyes ; While careless I my coffee sip, Smiling in innocent surprise ! Tis charming to attract and please, But still more sweet it is to tease. Ah ! he approaches — listlessly — Dropping a sentence here and there — Looking at prints he does not see — Pretending not to see my chair — Stopping a moment to address Some one he hardly saw or knew. — I know that manner purposeless, That always has an end in view ! 46 MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. He leaned upon my chair and said, ' When shall we have another valse 1 ' His whiskers almost touch my head — I'm glad my chignon was not false ! I try to speak, but I am dumb ! Tis this concealment makes me shy — Instead of words, hot blushes come ; Arthur may triumph now — not I ! Softly my drooping glance I raise, To meet Sir James's wond'ring gaze ! All out of countenance I rise ; I know not what I say or do — There's such amazement in his eyes. And something like reproval too ! Where is my self-possession 1 O ! I should not have jumped up like this ! (I wish I was unmarried tho' ; Then flirting never came amiss) ! MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. 47 ' Sit down,' said Arthur in my ear, And down I sat abashed and weak ; I wish I had not felt that fear — I wish I'd had the wit to speak ! Uncounted thoughts come rushing in, My self-approval to destroy ; And every thought is like a sin, And every sin is like a joy. Deceit is such an ugly word — I did not utter the untrue — John's strictness really is absurd ; John, the fault is all with you ! Life is so innocent and sweet, 1 must be happy, and I will ! My youth is lying at my feet ; Can I the radiant creature kill ? Must I blot out the perfect sun? Fling the unopen'd buds away? Nor let the silver river run ? My heart leaps up and will be gay 48 MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. My life is such a lovely game, It charms me ere I understand, With little joys, like birds, so tame, They come a flying to my hand. Why am I shamefaced and perplexed? And why is John so cross and grave ? And why with Arthur am I vexed ? Why am I not serenely brave? Then Arthur whispered, ' How you blush ! I answered angrily, ' Don't talk — ' You must not call again — and — hush — I'll never meet you when I walk.' ' Alas ! ' he cried, ' but then — 'tis true — You can't prevent my meeting you P I tried to look a little grim, But down he sat and rattled on ; My ready laughter answered him ; My fears are fled — my grief is gone. MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. 49 He talked in such a pleasant strain, With tones so soft and wit so bright, I was my merry self again, And quite forgot my foolish fright. I wore a rosebud in my dress, He vowed for him that bud should shine. (Just fancy John in such distress For anything because 'tis mine !) I held the rosebud in the air, And uttered half a dozen noes. He said than me it was less fair; I told him that my name was Rose. He caught my hand — he snatched the flower, Kissed it. and laid it 'neath his vest, Saying that from that happy hour He'd always love the roses best. The million stars that deck the skies Have no such meaning for his eyes, E 50 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. Nor priceless gems such joy impart As one small rosebud on his heart. Sir James approached me very grave, Enquiring coldly, would I sing 1 His altered looks I laughing brave, And could not think of such a thing ! Like sentry at my side he stood, And all the pleasant chat is o'er. I think Sir James is very good, But just a little of a bore. John took me home grave as a judge ; No word was spoken on the way ; He seems to owe me quite a grudge ; He's always sulky when I'm gay. Wrapped in a peignoir fresh and cleai, I view my face and find it fair. John enters then, and standing near Watches me while I brush my hair. MRS. JERNINGHAftPS JOURNAL. 51 ' Rose, do you ever think at all 1 ' ' Oh yes,' I said, ' I often do ; I think I'd like to give a ball, And not to be reproved by you.' ' But do you ever think of life, How great it is — how fair might be ; And of the duties of a wife, And kind submission due to me ? ' A troop of little thoughts like sighs, All uninvited fill my breast ; Sweet little thoughts of woods and skies, And moments fetterless and blest. 1 And do you ever think,' I cry, 'That duties also fall to you, And since you chose to wed me — why You ought to make me happy too V He viewed me sternly where he stood — • Ah, Rose ! your life might joy impart, 52- MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. If you were gentle, kind, and good, With woman's wisdom in your heart.' I twisted round each glossy curl, I mocked him with my saucy eyes : ' I'm not a woman, but a girl — I'd rather far be fair than wise ! ' ' Time is so pitiless/ he said ; ' Shall time be pitiless in vain % When youth is fled and beauty dead, What will remain'? — what will remain]' Laughing, I cried, ' Ah ! see the foal, It scours the field, it can't keep still, The kitten — little merry soul — For ever plays, for ever will ; The horse is steady, and the cat Is dull as you can wish, I'm sure ; She sits all day upon the mat, And licks her paws and looks demure. MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. 53 ' Oh let me while I'm young be gay, Just to be happy never hurts ; When I am old I'll sit all day And read your books and mend your shirts I ' I let my golden hair run down, And on the ground its beauty trail ; And, as an answer to his frown, Laughed at him through the shining veil. With angry grasp my arm he took — His temper from its bondage broke- ' I will not let you speak and look As but to-night you looked and spoke.' Strange shadow flits athwart his brow, Strange light makes glitter in his eyes, A moody passion shakes him now, The shadow's gone — the glitter dies. 54 MRS. JERNINGHAUPS JOURNAL. His face my spirit shall not daunt, I will not let him win the day, So give my voice a little taunt, And smiling up at him, I say, ' You'd like to beat me.' ' Yes, I would,' He cried, ' my anger I'd restrain, But if I thought 'twould do you good I'd beat you now and yet again ! In marriage there are double lives, Where each to each must law allow; Men have a right to beat their wives When women break their marriage vow.' ' I break my vow 1 ' ' Yes, every day.' He turned to where I breathless sat, 'You swore to honour and obey.' 'O dear !' I cried, 'who thinks of thatl ' 'Think of it now you must and can, And answer ere you leave this place — Why did you blush to meet that man 1 How dared you flirt before my face 1 ' MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. 55 ' What man 1 ' asked I. He did not stir ; And so I softly cried — ' Alack ! And would you really, John, prefer That I should flirt behind your back 1 ' He grasped my arm — my arm is small — He left a mark — (I see it now) And cried, ' You shall not flirt at all, A glance may break a marriage vow ! I ask you where you met that man 1 ' How hard I strove to get away ! Tell him the truth I never can : Ah, foolish girl ! what can I say 1 * I will not speak — ah, John, you hurt- — Ah, let me go.' ' Then answer quick.' My heart beat fast — no longer pert, I trembled, wept, felt faint and sick. ' Where did you meet that man before ? ' 'Ah, John, 'tis hard.' 'I do not care, MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. I will not let you pass that door Till you have answered me, I swear.' ' I met him at Sir James's ball.' ' Where else V 'I don't remember — I — 'Where else?' 'Ah, nowhere else at all.' 'I fear,' quoth he, 'you've told a lie.' And so he went ! — I cried all night, Sitting defenceless in the cold, Crying with sorrow and affright, And horror at the lie I'd told. I meant no harm those pleasant days, 'Twas the excitement led me on ; I liked the flattery and praise, Things that I never get from John. It was so sweet to wander out, And then I was afraid to tell ; MRS. JERNINGHAJSPS JOURNAL. 57 If John had let me run about And chatter it had all been well ! I sought my bed with weeping eyes, When morning broke and housemaids stirred. At breakfast time I could not rise — John left the house without a word. 58 MRS. JERNIXGHAArS JOURNAL. And all that day I stayed within, And mused with horror on my sin ; And little did I do but cry — I never thought I'd tell a lie ! I felt relief in my distress, When I determined to confess ; To speak the truth to John once more Would bring a calm unknown before. But then my aching eyes I hid, Thinking how great his wrath would be ; I'd done all things that he forbid, And let a man make love to me ! Perhaps he'd beat me ! once again I was a child in shame and fear, MRS. JERXIA r GHAl\rS JOURNAL. 59 I knew the terror and the pain, And thought John's hand would be severe. I pushed my sleeve, made bare the mark That dumbly threatened future harm : Four little shadows — lightly dark — Laid on the whiteness of my arm. As on my boudoir couch I lay My thoughts seemed melting quite away; Slow and more slow the fancies crept, I shut my eyes — I think I slept. I dream that I am in a wood ; There is a rustling 'mid the leaves : A robin comes to seek his food, A happy thing that never grieves. Is it the colour on his breast That makes a robin's heart so light? Or is it that we love him best And praise him when he's out of sight ? 60 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. The rustling wakes me — some one's near, Whose eye my sleeping face regards ; I see with quite a pang of fear Captain Fitzmaurice of the Guards ! My hair is hanging all astray (If John had seen it, he'd complain), I had been crying half the day, I felt I must be looking plain ! That's my first thought — my second is I'm wishing to be good and true : John would be quite enraged at this, Why did he come 1 — what shall I do 1 He shakes my hand — my arm is bare, The open sleeve the mark displays, He cries, ' The villain ! did he dare 1 ' His lazy eyes are in a blaze, A little kiss is on my hand, I hang my head and blush with shame, MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. 61 Wishing to make him understand That John is not so much to blame. While thus we stand the door's flung wide, John enters with a haughty stride, The rightful master of the place, With dreadful anger in his face. I snatched my hand from Arthur — ran To John ; ' I was asleep,' I cried, And he looked at me as he can And as no other can beside ! Coolly he turned to Arthur (then I quite admired him), calm his tone : 'There's some mistake, sir — gentlemen Don't call here when my wife's alone.' On Arthur's face there broods a frown ; 'A gentleman I think I'm styled — 62 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. Your wife's the prettiest girl in town — Are you a man to beat this child 1 ?' '/beat her?' John with scorn replied — (I wonder did he recollect His little lecture when he cried Men should chastise and wives respect 1 ?) With lordly air he paced the floor And said, ' I'll have no words of strife, Captain Fitzmaurice — there's the door — No man shall meddle with my wife.' Captain Fitzmaurice blushed at this, And cried, ' No child's more innocent, And guileless as a child she is,' And then he bowed to me and went. I somehow felt quite proud of John, I liked his cool, determined ways ; We were alone — Fitzmaurice gone ; John looked at me — I hid my face. MRS. JERNINGHAirS JOURNAL. 63 Now I must speak, or not at all, I need not wait for strength to come, So spoke, beginning at the ball And ending with this day at home : I told him how I broke his laws, And let each day its pleasure bring, And how I liked to flirt, because I found it such a pleasant thing; How we had met outside the door, And how he called upon me here, And how I tried to speak before, And how I lied to him from fear. And when 1 I had confessed my sin, I felt so desolate and poor, And drew my little shoulders in, Thinking, ' He'll beat me now, I'm sure.' He spoke no word, he made no sign, My breath came fast, my heart beat thick f 4 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. I thought, if this were wife of mine I'd beat her and forgive her quick. Slow speech at last — ' You told a lie, I doubt whate'er your tongue asserts, I have no faith in falsehood, I, Nor yet in faithless, fickle flirts ! ' Out burst his wrath : ' I gave you trust ; I loved — O God, I was deceived ! My love is shattered in the dust: Can I believe as I believed 1 ' Half fainting on the wall I lean, I never knew my heart so stirred ; Oh, if each stroke had only been A blow, and not a cruel word ! I cannot speak, I cannot cry, I am so dull and turned to stone ; I hear a sound, a step, and I Am in the chamber all alone. MRS. JERNINGHARRS JOURNAL. 65 He came not near me all the day, He came not near me all the night ; I almost wept my life away In sorrow, penitence, and fright. A letters brought — what can it be? A manly hand — I know it well, He wrote two little notes to me When I was only Rosa Bell. Ah, were I Rosa Bell again, And once again he made me wife, He'd have no reason to complain, I'd lead so excellent a life ! Why is it ever just too late, When what was living is a ghost We cease to quarrel with our fate, And what is lost could prize the most? 66 MRS. JERNINGHAiWS JOURNAL. THE LETTER. ' I leave my home this night for Spain, And though for ever must remain The sin, the sorrow, and the stain, If time my feelings should constrain, And take the anger from the pain, In time I may return again.' The letter fluttered from my hand, I hardly seemed to understand ; Startled, bewildered, and confused, My eyes to teach my brain refused. For Spain? — I knew that sunny clime Some claim upon his house could lay— A trouble of the troubled time, To vanish with a brighter day; MRS. JERNINGHAArS JOURNAL. 67 And he had meant to seek her skies, And for a little while remain, Just when he first beheld my eyes, And bade a blithe good-bye to Spain. An apt pretence the mission made To leave the love his lips disown ; And I, repentant and afraid, Weep o'er that ruined love alone. f 2 68 MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. That night Sir James sent in his card, Saying it was a business call; He bowed with such a stiff regard, I trembling felt he knew of all : He told me Mr. Jerningham Had asked him to arrange affairs, ' And so,' he mutter'd, ' here I am,' And ran his fingers through his hairs. Bending my head I could not speak, Trying to swallow down my tears, Wondering how I'd grown so weak — ; I A day had done the work of years ' While he's abroad, he settles it That you should sojourn by the sea, MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. 69 With some companion, as is fit — But where and who ?— How shall it be?' 'Whate'er you please,' I faintly said, Viewing my life with vacant stare ; My life ! — I was already dead, And might be buried anywhere? ' So be it ; I'll arrange it all, And choose a place that's free from crowd ; To-morrow, if I may, I'll call At half-past two ; ' he stiffly bowed. My heart was ice, my fiice was flames — I said, 'Oh won't you say "good-bye" 1 ? Won't you shake hands with me, Sir James?' And bitterly began to cry. The kind, good creature seized my hand — ' Crying,' he said, ' does good to none ; 70 MA'S. JERNINGHAAFS JOURNAL. I'd really like to understand, Poor little thing, what have you done 1 ?' I told him all, from first to last — So grave his looks my tears fell fast, And I accepted my disgrace, Reading my sentence in his face. He whistled very soft and low, And cried, 'It is a precious mess ; How could you treat your husband so? He'll not forgive you soon, I guess ! Youth, beauty, health, friends not a few, An easy income, pleasant lot, A noble fellow fond of you — What could you want you had not got ? To shatter such a life to bits ! And all for what ?— for nothing ! or To let that foolish fellow, Fitz, Say things he should be horsewhipped for ! MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. 71 ' Pray, do you know the use of life ? That no one's life is his alone? Or what it is to be a wife And call a good man's love your own? And to be trusted with a trust — Trusted and yet to be untrue ; To lay his honour in the dust And break a heart that beats for you?' Each word he said appeared a law That if accepted might restore, And each a picture seemed to draw Of beauty never known before. I caught a glimpse of Paradise — Of lovely order, pleasure fit ! And then I hid my weeping eyes Because I was shut out of it ! ' And such a man as John — by Jove, A woman might adore that man! 72 MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. He loved you with a real love, As only real fellows can ! How dared you play with life like that, Making a trifle of a sin 1 ?— Child ! did you know what you were at, Or half the danger you were in 1 ' ' Danger ? Ah yes ! ' I sadly cry — ? 'I've lost my husband's love, 'tis plain, And told him such a wicked lie We never can be friends again.' He stared at me. ' Is that the whole 1 ' — While yet he frowned he almost smiled, And softly said, ' God bless my soul ! How could John marry such a child?' And then, with quite a tender look (Cause for the change I could not find), He talked like fathers in a book — Papa was never half so kind. A/US. JERNIXGUAJSPS JOURNAL. 7; ' You have been frivolous and vain, But yet I think your heart is good ; I think you will not err again, I think you'll learn what women should : And so, for fear the world should blame, And mingle falsehood with the truth, I'll take you home to Lady Graeme, £. And we'll protect your foolish youth ! ' 74 MRS. JERNINGHAArS JOURNAL. PART II Three bitter months have passed away. I could not — could not write a line : But in the welkin dim and gray A little star begins to shine. A little star — though not for me, Still by its light I wander on ; It was a sort of joy to see A letter to Sir James from John ! Oh, sort of joy, how sad I am ! — He says he comes to-night, tho' late, And ' hopes that Mrs. Jerningham Will be at home at Number eight.' MRS. JERNWGHAArS JOURNAL. 75 So I'm to live with him again ! — It is his will to have it so ; Oh dreadful pleasure ! — happy pain ! Oh senseless joy ! — too real woe ! I cross the threshold of the door, How sad I am — how changed is all ! — Am I the girl who oft before Ran up the steps and through the hall? If I am not that creature gay, I hope I'm something better far ; — Shine in the welkin dim and gray, Though not for me, my little star ! I sit beside the silent fire, The passing minutes work their will, I have no wishes or desire, I never felt so very still. 76 MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. I think I have wept out my tears, For future grief can none allow ; I've lost the knack of hopes and fears, And am a quiet woman now. He likes a woman full of grace, By reason's law her heart to quell — (Why did he like my happy face "When I was only Rosa Bell?) I see a girl's face in the glass, All light and shadow, smiles and tears ; Alas, it is my own ! alas ! And am I still what that appears 1 He will not like me ! Ah, I thought My heart had learned in sorrow's school, And, once the teacher, now the taught, Had ruled my face with iron rule ! MRS. JERNINGHALPS JOURNAL. 77 He will not like me ! Oh despair ! To meet him with such changeful eyes? Ah ! face that I believed so fair, Can you not look a little wise 1 ? Alas ! a distant sound I hear ; The cruel moments reel and fly ; It is his step, and he is here — If I could hide away and die ! I stood so friendless in the room, I felt so lonely and afar ; The house was filled so full of gloom, I could not see my little star! John entered — shook me by the hand, And said, ' How cold the weather is The train was late, I understand.' This was our meeting — only this ! 78 MRS. JERNINGHAATS JOURNAL. I said 'the train is always slow;' And then I laughed — indeed I did— Tho' what I meant I do not know ; Nor how the laughter from me slid. He called it cold, and I was hot ; I longed to look at him, but feared- One glance I gave, and saw he'd got Upon his chin a great black beard. I saw no higher — I was dumb — I vaguely wondered, was it he? Or had some bearded Spaniard come To pass himself as John on me? I did not dare to look again — How could I tell if it was John 1 Never, unless I looked, 'tis plain — And so my foolish thought ran on ' I wondered did he glance at me 1 And did he find me beautiful ? MRS. JERNINGHAAFS JOURNAL. 79 And then I poured him out his tea ; And there we sat so cold and dull. 'How is Sir James?' 'He's very well.' ' And Lady Graeme ? ' ' She's better too.' ' Has she been ill? ' 'I cannot tell — O yes — I mean — she did — you knew.' And then I stopped and turned from John — And coloured up and bit my lips, And played a little tune upon The table with my finger tips. John gazed intently in his cup, And spoke with kindness in his tone : (Why did my heart at once freeze up, And wish he'd let me quite alone?) ' They have been good to you ? ' 'Oh yes, Sir James is all that's good and kind, And Lady Graeme — I like her less ; But she is pleasant and refined.' So MRS. JERNINGHAWS JOURNAL. I spoke with fluency and ease, I felt provoked — I know not why ; John stirred his tea and crossed his knees, And did not make the least reply. And then I wished I had not spoke, And wondered what would happen next. And then the clock gave forth its stroke. 'Twas twelve — he rose — and I was vexed. ' Good night/ he said. ' Good night,' said I — (How could we hope for a good night?) He left me — I sat down to cry, And of his face I'd had no sight ! MRS. JERNINGHAAPS JOURNAL. At breakfast it was just the same, But I looked at him, bolder grown — One little look — when, full of shame, I met his eyes, and dropped my own : His face was stern and resolute, His mouth was hard as cut in steel ; Cold were his eyes, yet from them shoot Looks that my very soul must feel. He is my husband — once he loved ; His heart was mine, and might be still : It was my hand, his hand removed, That would have sheltered me from ill ; I asked my heart — could his be stirred, That love once slighted to restore 1 And still my heart replied one word, And still that word was Nevermore ! G 82 MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. And when the clock was striking ten,. He rose — I felt a dreamlike fear ; O most precise of business men — He's gone — but was he ever here? Is it a dream 1 am I alive ? Has life begun again for us ? And can I live — howe'er I strive, In such a dreadful fashion thus? MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. Through all that night I had not slept : In cushion'd chair I languid lay, Nor knew that slumber softly stepped, And drew the outer world away ; And when the twilight's tender gloom Gave shadows like primeval trees, I felt the sounds within the room, And then I felt the sounds were these. ' She was a welcome guest, you know — ' ' Your kindness will be ne'er forgot — ' ' And she's a charming creature, tho' She has her faults — and who has not ? ' 'Your pardon— tho' our friendly lives Have known each other long — -what then? G 2 84 MRS. JERNINGIIAM'S JOURNAL. Men do not talk about their wives, And their wives' faults, with other men.' Tut tut — your words I shall not heed ; My love of chat you will not balk : John, I must speak — I must indeed ; Be a good fellow — let me talk : I lectur'd her too — on my life, She took it sweetly — ne'er forgot : And John, altho' she is your wife, I was her friend when you were not ! ' ' I acted for the best, Sir James, And think I did extremely right — Pray have you seen the members' names Who voted for the Church last night % ' 'to' ' Confound the Church ! — you needn't frown ; I say you were too hard with her ; You should have let her see the town, And shop, and dance, as girls prefer. MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. 85 ' Your wife's a beauty — others see, And tell her — and she knows 'tis true. John, if you'll be advised by me, You'll let her hear the same from you. With rosy cheeks and shining curls You fell in love — for all your nous : Men should not marry little girls, Who want old women in the house ! ' v Sir James, when I require advice, I'll ask for it, as custom is — Pardon me, I may be too nice, But I'm a trifle tired of this.' ' I'll do my duty — say my say — We had her for three months with us. She's young and skittish — fond of play — A little vain and frivolous — Most women are — shall men condemn? Let us be wise and reason thus — We'd better make the best of them, As — bless their hearts — they do of us ! 86 MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. ' Don't leave your wife too much alone : Just to amuse and please her try. John, you've a temper of your own ; Don't frighten her, and make her cry ! She's a fine creature — good at heart, Without a particle of vice ; And if she shies or tries to start, Don't pull the curb — that's my advice ! ' ' Advice not asked for nor required ; Thank you— I'll manage as before ; I think I'm just a little tired ; Sir James, excuse me, there's the door ! ' ' With all my heart, and welcome too ! From no man's house I'm turned out twice You managed nicely — didn't you? You stuck-up fellows scorn advice ! ' MRS. JERNINGHAMS JOURNAL. 87 The door was slammed, and all was still — John stood erect — I feared him most ; But left my chair against my will, And glided forward like a ghost. John started — ' YouV