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The Manchester Marriage
by
The pack of doctors could do no good to little Ailsie; she was beyond their power. But her father (for so he insisted on being called, and also on Alice’s no longer retaining the appellation of mamma, but becoming henceforward mother), by his healthy cheerfulness of manner, his clear decision of purpose, his odd turns and quirks of humor, added to his real strong love for the helpless little girl, infused a new element of brightness and confidence into her life; and, though her back remained the same, her general health was strengthened, and Alice never going beyond a smile herself–had the pleasure of seeing her child taught to laugh.
As for Alice’s own life, it was happier than it had ever been before. Mr. Openshaw required no demonstration, no expressions of affection from her. Indeed, these would rather have disgusted him. Alice could love deeply, but could not talk about it. The perpetual requirement of loving words, looks, and caresses, and misconstruing their absence into absence of love, had been the great trial of her former married life. Now, all went on clear and straight, under the guidance of her husband’s strong sense, warm heart, and powerful will. Year by year their worldly prosperity increased. At Mrs. Wilson’s death Norah came back to them as nurse to the newly-born little Edwin, into which post she was not installed without a pretty strong oration on the part of the proud and happy father, who declared that if he found out that Norah ever tried to screen the boy by a falsehood, or to make him nesh either in body or mind, she should go that very day. Norah and
Mr. Openshaw were not on the most thoroughly cordial terms, neither of them fully recognizing or appreciating the other’s best qualities.
This was the previous history of the Lancashire family who had now removed to London.
They had been there about a year, when Mr. Openshaw suddenly informed his wife that he had determined to heal long-standing feuds, and had asked his uncle and aunt Chadwick to come and pay them a visit and see London. Mrs. Openshaw had never seen this uncle and aunt of her husband’s. Years before she had married him there had been a quarrel. All she knew was, that Mr. Chadwick was a small manufacturer in a country town in South Lancashire. She was extremely pleased that the breach was to be healed, and began making preparations to render their visit pleasant.
They arrived at last. Going to see London was such an event to them that Mrs. Chadwick had made all new linen fresh for the occasion, from night-caps downward; and as for gowns, ribbons, and collars, she might have been going into the wilds of Canada, where never a shop is, so large was her stock. A fortnight before the day of her departure for London she had formally called to take leave of all her acquaintance, saying she should need every bit of the intermediate time for packing up. It was like a second wedding in her imagination; and, to complete the resemblance which an entirely new wardrobe made between the two events, her husband brought her back from Manchester, on the last market-day before they set off, a gorgeous pearl and amethyst brooch, saying, “Lunnon should see that Lancashire folks knew a handsome thing when they saw it.”
For some time after Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick arrived at the Openshaws’ there was no opportunity for wearing this brooch; but at length they obtained an order to see Buckingham Palace, and the spirit of loyalty demanded that Mrs. Chadwick should wear her best clothes in visiting the abode of her sovereign. On her return she hastily changed her dress, for Mr. Openshaw had planned that they should go to Richmond, drink tea, and return by moonlight. Accordingly, about five o’clock, Mr. and Mrs. Openshaw and Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick set off.