THE HENPECKED HUSBAND

Is an ill-considered title ; for it not only conveys no notion of the scope of the book, but suggests an idea of its subject which is the reverse of the reality. A "henpecked husband" generally calls up the appearance of a rather feeble-minded if not a foolish person, crouching submissively to the tyranny of something like a virago, and furnishing materials for comedy or farce. Mark Chetwode, the husband in the novel before us, is not a person of this stamp ; nor can the character of the tale be ac- counted comic, but something better. It points the moral of hasty and unequal matches. In carrying out the idea, or rather perhaps in carry- ing on the story, exaggerations and faults of detail occur, with gene- ral repetitions from the common sources of novelists ; the staple of the tale may be deficient in that breadth which is necessary for fiction, and overloaded with subordinate and insignificant incidents, while some of the persons are too equivocal to be pleasing : but a leading idea is seized and embodied, and steadily adhered to. Such as nature and circumstances have made the husband and wife, such they continue. There is no violation of the probability of character to please readers who like persons to " turn out good," no shrinking from the legitimate consequences to make all end happily. The elements are sad—socially tragic; and they are allowed their course. It is this distinct presenta- tion of a leading principle that gives a stamp to The Henpecked Hus- band, despite of matter slight in proportion to the length of the book, and an indifferent moral tone, not in the writer, but in most of the scenes and persons.

The leading story runs thus. Mark Chetwode, a lawyer of retired habits, has quietly lived with his mother till he is turned of thirty. From the isolation of his pursuits; and his ignorance of the female world, he gets entrapped into a marriage with Theresa Dering ; whose mother, a friend of Mrs. Chetwode in early life, is an adventurous match-banter of the worst kind—poor, unprincipled, and needy, but keeping up appearances, and contracting debts, which she expects the future husbands of her daughters to pay. Trained under such a person, Theresa is very badly educated ; but even the example of her mother cannot altogether destroy a natural pride and a woman's heart. She is attached to Edward Sydenham ; but circumstances forbade marriage, and an accident causes their separation just at a time when the lover inherits a fortune. Theresa, ignorant of this change, consents to marry Chetwode, though her affec- tions are still engaged to her first love. The :marriage is unhappy in the extreme; Theresa's pride, self-will, loose notions, and love of society, lead- ing to conduct diametrically opposed to all Chetwode's ideas of propriety and oomfert. . But -tituftb: log&tyieldigRdistpsition, and the superior strength of his wife's tvT1;'iritlliV him give way to her arts or her demands, it can hardly be said that lie is henpee,ked; and when opportu- nity and her old affection have placed her in a questionable position as re- gards Sydenham, Mark Cbetwode is firm as adamant. After a half clan- destine intercourse, Sydenbani addresses a letter to Theresa, suggesting an elopement from a party ; the signal of consent being that Mrs. Chetwode should wear a particular- ornament. By a necessary though not very natural contrivance, Theresa drops the letter, without reading it; Chet- wode picks it up, passes at once to his wife's dressiogroom, and seeing the ornament, determines on a separation. A duel ensues ; Sydenham is wounded; and though the wound is not immediately it is eventually fatal. Theresa, accompanied by her mother, wanders listlessly about from place to place ; sees her first love, by accident, when he is evidently dying; and some months afterwards she dies too.

We have indicated faults in the book, but the two principal are want of matter and of tone. The studies of the writer would seem to have lain amongst the better novels of the circulating library, or the class of society which they depict. The persona of The Henpecked Husband are either singular or questionable, wanting the solidity of the respectable classes, and the breeding and finish of fashionable life. Hence the book flags unless in scenes where there is direct interest in the story, because there is no interest in the-manners.

A scene of the deeper kind will best exhibit the writer's powers. We take the one where Mrs. Dering has come over from Paris to get her daughter to pay a budget of bills. -

"When they were shut up together in cabinet council, Theresa rather im- patiently inquired what could have brought her to England just as she and Mr. Chetwode were leaving town.

"` You shall see,' was all Mrs. Dering said; but from the voluminous folds of her dress, in every gigantic plait of which there appeared to be a pocket for the reception of articles of every degree of magnitude, she soon produced a reply as satisfactory as any words could be. " A handful of papers, some small, but mostly long, narrow, and delicately lined with blue, emerged from the depths; and, laying them down one by one in a file on the table, she exclaimed—' Now you will guess what brought me over !'

" The very sight of these papers, which Theresa saw in a moment were every one of them bills, hardened her heart; and, leaning back in her chair with that face of desperate determination which she knew so well how to assume, she said in the coldest of voices—' Thank Heaven, nothiug in which I have any concern; for I did not leave a single bill in Paris.' "' No, my dear—not in Paris, I allow: these little accounts have nothing what- ever to do with Paris—they are small debts contracted by you in England.'

"` In England!' repeated Theresa in amazement: what can you mean ? Mr. Chetwode was so exceedingly generous to me abroad, that before I employed any dressmaker in town, I made an arrangement that my bills of this year should not come in till next: how then can you possibly call them' bills contracted by me in England ?' " The faintest tinge of colour rose to Mrs. Dering's nose; additional colour; for

her blushes seemed never to patronize her cheeks, but preferred going where the tint that should have animated them was now established permanently: " ' Not since your marriage, my darling—I do not mean since your marriage— I mean before.'

" It was now Theresa's turn to blush; and the rich red hue that dyed cheek, and brow, and throat, showed her mother that prosperity had refined her feelings, and that a diflicult task was before her.

" But the mother had less delicacy than the daughter: she did not respect the feelings of shame which thus spoke in Theresa's face, and choked her very ut- terance: she rattled on, indifferent to the scorn which was settling on the counte- nance of her child; and explained to her, with the most fluent effrontery, that the bills which she had brought over with her, and which she insinuated that Theresa must pay, were contracted at the different expensive shops in town at which the trousseau of Theresa had been procured! " In silence Theresa listened; in silence she overlooked them; and then, when each bad been carefully examined, she exclaimed—' Mamma, I do wonder you are not ashamed !'

" The sentence was an outburst of earnest and honest iudignation, thrown as it were from her curling lips, with all the fervency of the most utter contemptc but it failed to make due impression on one whom a life of similar acts had rendered canons to public opinion. " Mrs. Daring, on the contrary, laughed; she actually laughed, and said—' Oh, Theresa, marriage has altered you!' " And Theresa, still glowing with vexation, gave vent to a torrent of reproaches.

" ' How you can possibly come here, mamma! here, where even I am but a guest! hoe v you can come with that array of bills—bills contracted by you, with- out, I fear, the slightest intention on your part of ever paying them yourself, surpasses my:comprehension I Well do I recollect in our young days the many ways and means we resorted to, when such odious letters as these came upon us; but never, never, mother, have you yet stooped to anything like this!'

" ' My dearest Theresa!' protested Mrs. Dering,' you are dreaming: count these bills op once more—see the sum to which they amount—how could you ever have imagined that out of my small means I could have paid them myself?' " 'I did imagine it,' retorted her daughter; ' and I expected it too: I little thought I should ever have the humiliation of asking my husband to pay for the very clothes in which he married me!' "' Of course I do not expect you to say anything to Mr. Chetsle; said Mrs. Dering hastily; 'surely with your handsome pin money—' "' With that, mamma, you have nothing to do; you do not know my re- sources, nor my expenses. Only tell me, how is it you cannot defray these bills?'

"‘ Bee-ease 1 never intended, said the mother, determined not thus to be put down by her child. ' I told you before you were married, that if I gave you a trousseau such as Mr. Chetwode's wife should have, it was not in my power to pay for it: so here are the bills. You must remember my writing that to you, down at Tunbridge Wells.'

"Theresa considered a moment; and then she had a faint recollection of some letter, saying something about Mr. Keating's insisting on having no bills, and Mrs. Dering's resolution to manage better when it came to Theresa's turn. This she did remember; but she had never dreamt that the sentence ' manage bettor when it came to Theresa's turn' bore this signification. "'And really and truly you cannot pay them?' she said. "'I cannot: they amount to nearly half my yearly income; and I lived on cheese-parings to pay for what Georgy had on her marriage, which was not nearly so much as 1 bestowed on you.'

"'Bestowed I' repeated Theresa, in a contemptuous murmur; ' a very inappro- priate term, mother!' '" It leeks very much as if you will make me bestow-them; retorted Mrs. De- ring, angry in her turn, and inwardly terrified lest Theresa or her husband should decidedly refuse her request. ' I tell you honestly, Theresa, if . CI encenEti had not written me a most impertinent and threatening letter, I -never would have put myself in this abject position. "Theresa's pride, not her heart, was touched, and she gathered up the papers. aile ".4.'Net a word more,' said she, ,. a syllable farther, oa so odious a subject;, I will take the only course which my uty suggests; `and tar* I will place thing accounts in the bands of my hutib " ' You will ruin me!' ale-Myer ring': 'you certainly are mad, Theresa.) . expose me to Mr. Chetwode, when the sole reason that incited me to the ex- travagance was love for you, and pride in your appearance l'

"'All the more likely that you will be forgiven,' returned Theresa: ' at all events, that is the only course I choose to pursue. The bills amount to 2151. I will not stop to inquire of you if I had the lilac glace silk dress charged byCle- mence at eleven guineas—nor this white capote and feathers—nor this pelerme of richest blonde—nor a mantelet de velours—nor several other items which cer- tainly never formed part of my trousseau—Do not speak, mamma l it only makes . matters worse '; and suddenly seizing the papers, Theresa darted out of the room. "Mrs. Dering had not expected her to wind up the conversation in this abrupt manner; and she sat trembling in that quiet little room by herself, alike alarmed at her position and at the probable refusal which Mr. Chetwode might give to aiding and abetting her in what she considered to be the most clever thing she had ever done.

"At last, Theresa returned; and her hands, instead of holding the expected check, were empty.

"Mrs. Dering nearly dropped; but at last her daughter spoke. ' He will pay them, mamma—he has them all ready to settle this afternoon. One thing only he insisted on; and that was, that he should do it himself; and he begged me to tell you as delicately as I could, that never from this hour—'

" ' I know—I know,' interrupted Mrs. Dering nervously; • not to do it again, you mean. Yes—yes: but I have no more daughters, thank goodness ! Was he an- gry, my dearest?' "‘ Why ask ?' said Theresa bitterly. ' Since he has promised to save your credit, and pay the bills, what care you whether be were angry or not? No mo- ther: but remember, the next time you come to England on such an errand, donot come here.' "