Home Comforts | AdventAI

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Apr 24, 1879

Home Comforts.

"WHERE are you going, George?" asked Mrs. Wilson as her husband rose from the tea-table and took his hat.

"O, I am going out," was the careless response.

"But where?" asked his wife.

"What odds does it make, Emma?" returned her husband. "I shall be back at my usual time."

The young wife hesitated, and a quick flush overspread her face. She seemed to have made up her mind to speak plainly on a subject which had lain uneasily upon her heart for some time, requiring an effort, but she persevered.

"Let me tell you what odds it makes to me," she said in a kind but tremulous tone. "If I cannot have your company here at home, I should at least feel much better if I knew where you were."

"But you know that I am safe, Emma, and what more can you ask?"

"I do not know that you are safe, George; I know nothing positively about you when you are away."

"Pooh! pooh! would you have it that I am not capable of taking care of myself?"

"You put a wrong construction upon my words, George. Love is always anxious when its dearest object is away. If I did not love you as I do I might not be thus uneasy. When you are at your place of business I do not feel thus, because I know I can seek and find you at any moment; but when you are absent during these long evenings I go to wondering where you are. Then I begin to feel lonesome; and so one thought follows another, till I feel troubled and uneasy. O, if you would only stay with me a portion of your evenings!"

"Aha! I thought that was what you were aiming at," said George, with a playful shake of the head. "You would have me here every evening."

"Well, can you wonder at it?" returned Emma. "I used to be very happy when you came to spend an evening with me before we were married; and I know I should be very happy in your society now."

"Ah," said George with a smile, "those were business meetings. We were arranging then for the future."

"And why not continue to do so, my husband? I am sure we could be as happy now as ever. If you will remember, one of your plans was to make a home."

"And havn't we got one, Emma?"

"We have certainly a place in which to live," answered the wife somewhat evasively.

"And it is our home," pursued George. "Besides," he added, with a sort of confident flourish, "home is the wife's peculiar province. She has the charge of it, and all her work is there, while the duties of the husband call him to other scenes."

"Well, I admit that, so far as certain duties are concerned," replied Emma. "And you must remember that we both need relaxation from labor; we need time for social and mental improvement and enjoyment, and what time have we for this save our evenings? Why should not this be my home of an evening as well as the day-time and in the night?"

"Well, isn't it?" asked George.

"How can it be when you are not here at all? What makes a home for children if it be not the abode of the parents? What home can a husband have where there is no wife? And what real home comforts can a wife enjoy where there is no husband? You do not consider how lonesome I am all alone here during these long evenings. They are the very seasons when I am at leisure to enjoy your companionship and when you would be at leisure to enjoy mine, if it were enjoying. They are the seasons when the happiest hours of home-life might be passed, if we determined it should be so. Come, will you spend a few of your evenings with me?"

"You see enough of me as it is," said the husband lightly.

"Allow me to be the best judge of that, George. You would be very lonesome here all alone."

"Not if it was my place of business, as it is yours," returned the young man. "You are used to staying here. All wives belong at home."

"Just remember, my husband, that previous to our marriage I had pleasant society all the time. Of course, I remained at home much of my time; but I had a father and mother there, and I had brothers and sisters, and our evenings were happily spent. Finally, I gave up all for you. I left the old home and sought a home with my husband. And now have I not a right to expect some of your companionship? How would you like to have me away every evening while you were obliged to remain here alone?"

"Why, I should like it well enough."

"Ah! but I know you would not be willing to try it."

"Yes I would," said George at a venture.

"Will you remain here every evening next week and allow me to spend my time among my female friends?"

"Certainly I will," he replied, "and I confidently assure you I shall not be as lonesome as you imagine."

With this the husband went out and was soon among his friends. He was an industrious man, and loved his wife truly, but like thousands of others he had contracted a habit of spending his evenings abroad, and thought it no harm. His only practical idea of home seemed to be that it was a place that his wife took care of, and where he could eat, drink, and sleep as long as he could pay for it. In short, he treated it as a sort of private boarding-house, of which his wife was landlady; and if he paid all the bills he considered his duty done. His wife had frequently asked him to stay at home with her, but she had never ventured upon any argument before, and he had no conception of how much she missed him. She always seemed happy when he came home, and he supposed she could always be so.

Monday evening came, and George Wilson remained true to his promise. His wife put on her bonnet and shawl, and he said he would remain and keep house.

"What will you do when I am gone?" Emma asked.

"O, I shall read, and sing, and enjoy myself generally."

"Very well," said Emma, "I shall be back early."

The wife went out and the husband was left alone. He had an interesting book, and he began to read it. He read till eight o'clock and then he began to yawn, and looked frequently at the clock. The book did not interest him as usually. Ever and anon he would come to a passage which he knew would please his wife, and instinctively he turned as though he would read it aloud; but there was no wife to hear it. At half-past eight o'clock he rose from his chair and began to pace the floor and whistle. Then he went and got his flute and played several of his favorite airs. Then he walked the floor and whistled again. Finally the clock struck nine, and his wife returned.

"Well, George," said she, "I am back in good time. How have you enjoyed yourself?"

"Capitally," returned the husband; "I had no idea it was so late. I hope you have enjoyed yourself?"

"O, splendidly!" said his wife; "I had no idea how much enjoyment there was away from home. Home is a dull place, after all, isn't it?"

"Why, no, I can't say that it is," returned George, carelessly. "In fact, he added, "I rather like it."

"I am glad of that," retorted Emma, "for we shall have a nice, comfortable week of it."

George winced at this, but he kept his countenance and determined to stand it out.

On the next evening Emma prepared to go off again.

"Where are you going, Emma?" her husband asked.

"O, I can't tell exactly. I may go to several places."

So George Wilson was left alone again, and he tried to amuse himself as before, but he found it a difficult task. Ever and anon he would cast his eyes on that empty chair, and the thought would come, "how pleasant it would be if she were here!" The clock finally struck nine, and he began to listen for the steps of his wife. Half an hour more slipped by, and he became very nervous and uneasy.

"I declare," he muttered to himself after he had listened for some time in vain, "this is too bad. She ought not to stay out so late."

But he happened to remember that he often remained away much later than that, so he concluded that he must make the best of it.

At a quarter to ten Emma came home.

"A little late, am I not?" she said, looking up at the clock. "But I fell in with some old friends. How have you enjoyed yourself?"

"First-rate," returned George bravely; "I think home is a capital place."

"Especially when a man can have it all to himself," added the wife with a sidelong glance at her husband. But he made no reply.

On the next evening Emma prepared to go out as before; but this time she kissed her husband ere she went, and seemed to hesitate about leaving.

"Where do you think of going?" George asked in an undertone.

"I may drop in to see Uncle John," replied Emma. "However, you won't be uneasy. You will know I'm safe."

"O, certainly," said her husband; but when left to his own reflections he began to ponder seriously upon the subject thus presented for consideration. He could not read, he could not play, or enjoy himself in any way, while the chair was empty. In short, he found that home had no real comfort without his wife. The one thing needed to make George Wilson's home pleasant was not present.

"I declare," he said to himself, "I did not think it would be so lonesome. And can it be that she feels as I do when she is here all alone? It must be so," he pursued thoughtfully; "it is just as she says. Before we were married she was very happy in her childhood. Her parents loved her, and her brothers and sisters loved her, and they did all they could to make her comfortable."

After this he walked up and down the room several times, and then stopped again and communed with himself.

"I can't stand this," said he, "I should die in a week. If Emma were here I think I could amuse myself very well. How lonesome and dreary it is! And only eight o'clock! I declare; I have a mind to walk down as far as uncle John's and see if she is there.

It would be a relief if I could only see her. I won't go in. She sha'n't know yet that I hold out so faintly."

George Wilson took another turn across the room, glanced once more at the clock, and then took his hat and went out. He locked the door after him, and then bent his steps toward uncle John's. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the air was keen and bracing. He was walking along with his eyes bent upon the pavement, when he heard a light step approaching him. He looked up—he could not be mistaken—saw his wife. His first impulse was to avoid her, but she had recognized him.

"George," she said in surprise, "can this be you?"

"It is," was the response.

"And do you pass the evenings at home?"

"This is the first time I have been out, Emma, upon my word; and even now I have not been absent from the house ten minutes. I merely came out to take the fresh air. But where are you going?"

"I am going home, George; will you go with me?"

"Certainly," returned the husband.

She then took his arm and they walked home in silence.

When Emma had taken off her things she sat down in her chair and looked at the clock.

"You are home very early to-night," remarked George.

The young wife looked up into her husband's face, and with an expression half smiling and half tearful she said, "I will confess the truth, George—I have given up the experiment. I managed to stand it last evening, but I could not bear it through to-night. When I thought of you here all alone I wanted to be with you. It didn't seem right. I havn't enjoyed myself at all. I have not any home but this."

"Say you so?" cried George moving his chair to his wife's side and taking one of her hands. "Then let me make my confession. I have stood it not a whit better. When I left the house this evening I could bear it no longer. I found that this was no home for me, while my wife was absent. I thought I would walk down to uncle John's and see your face, if possible. I had gazed upon your empty chair till my heart ached."

The next evening was spent at home by husband and wife, and it was a season of much enjoyment. In a short time George began to realize how much comfort was to be found in a quiet and peaceful home, and the longer he enjoyed this comfort the more plainly did he see and understand the simple truth that it takes two to make a happy home, and if the wife is one party the husband must be the other.—Ladies' Repository.