Mrs. Wood

“ Wood. "He knows no better," said Sarah. "Bosh!" said Sarah's husband later. "It was a very manly thing to do." Thus did consternation rage in the house at Bennington. Molly might have spared herself the many assurances that she gave concerning the universal esteem in which her cow-puncher was held, and the fair prospects which were his. So, in the first throes of her despair, Mrs. Wood wrote those eight not maturely considered pages to the great-aunt. ”

“ The declaration of authorship came as a surprise, for the tales, which are subdued, quite unmelodramatic, and, at their best, approximate Mrs. Gaskell's in manner, had been held by some of the critics to exhibit qualities in which Mrs. Wood was believed to be deficient.
Shortly after her husband's death in 1866, Mrs. Henry Wood removed from Kensington to St. John's Wood Park, South Hampstead. There she lived for the remainder of her life, working assiduously at her novels. As may be gathered from their pages, she was a strictly orthodox churchwoman and a strong conservative. ”

“ Woods answered her smile. “Bless you,” she said, “I’ll do it. Watch the baby, Ina, and keep the other children in here while I go down to Rosie’s.”
Throwing her apron over her head, Mrs. Woods led Budd, Betty and Kathryn down the rickety, dingy stairway to the second floor, where she knocked on a door once shining in its dark wood. ”

“ Aunt Maude had no children of her own, but loved the little Woods very dearly, and explained to their mother quite often how they ought to be brought up.
They were to stay a day or two with Mrs. Wood’s brother, and then go to a boarding-house in Montrose, to wait until their own [194] cottage was ready, for Mrs. Wood did not believe in making long visits, with a family of children.
Weejums was more than glad when they left New York, for of course she had not gone to any of the theatre and Eden Musée parties with Uncle Rob, or been invited to have an ice-cream soda. ”

“ Wood's stories already mentioned, into which an element of freshness, then somewhat unusual in fiction, is largely introduced. These are the stories which have much to do with boys and [Pg 189] boy-life—notably "The Channings," "Roland Yorke," "Orville College," "Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles," "Lady Grace," and the "Johnny Ludlow" series. These books, less sensational in plot than many of Mrs. Wood's novels, have been peculiarly successful, perhaps because the scenes and characters are largely drawn from real life. Mrs. ”

“ It is not probable that Mrs. Wood got much comfort from this communication; and her daughter Sarah was actually enraged by it. "She grows more perverse as she nears her dotage," said Sarah. But the Virginian's letter was sent to Dunbarton, where the old lady sat herself down to read it with much attention.
Here is what the Virginian had said to the unknown mother of his sweetheart.
Mrs. John Stark Wood,
⁠Bennington, Vermont.
Madam: If your daughter Miss Wood has ever told you about her saving a man's life here when some Indians had shot him that is the man who writes to you now. ”

“ I had better tell you the way I know I love Miss Wood. I am not a boy now, and women are no new thing to me. A man like me who has travelled meets many of them as he goes and passes on but I stopped when I came to Miss Wood. ”

“ Wood's novels, particularly well drawn. They are not prigs; they are anything but angels, in spite of their white surplices and their beautiful voices; and their escapades and adventures in [Pg 185] the old cloisters were wild enough to make the old monks turn in their graves. No doubt many incidents of this kind were drawn from life and owe their origin to Mrs. Wood's acquaintance with the Choir School belonging to Worcester Cathedral.
It was not the only occasion on which the manufacturer's daughter turned her knowledge of Worcester to good account. ”

“ Nevertheless the spectacle of the mother nursing the dying boy, who does not know her, is one that will always appeal to the heart of the ordinary reader, and will go far to account for the extraordinary popularity of "East Lynne."
A novelist of more aspiring genius would perhaps have concentrated our attention exclusively upon Lady Isabel's feelings and tragic fate. Here Mrs. Wood's failings, as well as her capacities, reveal themselves. She sees the tragic side of things, but she sees also (and perhaps too much) the pathos of small incidents, the importance of trifles. ”

“ And it asked that books might be sent, many books of all sorts, novels, poetry, all the good old books and any good new ones that could be spared. Cheap editions, of course. "Indeed she shall have them!" said Mrs. Wood. "How her mind must be starving in that dreadful place!" The letter was not a long one, and, besides the books, spoke of little else except the fine weather and the chances for outdoor exercise that this gave. "You have no idea," it said, "how delightful it is to ride, especially on a spirited horse, which I can do now quite well." ”

“ Wood's essential love of detail, and of somewhat commonplace detail, asserts itself over and over again. The incidents she takes pains to narrate are rational enough. There is no reason why pathos should be marred because a dying child asks for cheese with his tea, or because the sensible stepmother condemns Lucy to a diet of bread and water for some trifling offence, or because Miss Cornelia Carlisle displays her laughable eccentricities at Lady Isabel's bedside. ”

“ The thought of Wood Green revolted him; live there as long as he might, he would never be at home. He thought of his wife (now waiting for him) with fear, and then with a reaction of rage. Let her wait! He—Archibald Jordan—before whom women had bowed and trembled for five-and-twenty years—was he to come and go at a wife's bidding? ”

“ Woods again—we've about turned her out of house and home as it is."
"Mrs. Woods is a fine woman, a fine woman—heart of gold—splendid wife—Woods is a lucky man," jerked out the doctor, a quaint mingling of despotic assertion and lingering resignation in his tones.
"I am sure there must be other women with—with hearts of gold," prodded Janet naïvely.
"So there are, so there are," retorted the little doctor quickly; "but they're all too young—or else they're married, and their husbands are confoundedly healthy!" ”

“ I have watched her return again and again, each time taking in her careful teeth the tiny body of a babe, until five mouthfuls of precious pink were safely lodged within the fortress of the oak. And I could as soon believe that woman, when she saves her children from some fearful harm, is a soulless machine as think that that brave little wood-mother, out there alone under the trees, snatching her darlings from the jaws of death, was a heroine without sense or feeling. ”

“ Wood fulfils all the requisites of a good novelist: she interests people in her books, makes them anxious about the characters, and furnishes an intricate and carefully woven plot.”—The Morning Post.
16.
LADY ADELAIDE.
SIXTIETH THOUSAND.
“One of Mrs. Henry Wood’s best novels.”—The Star.
“Mme. Henry Wood est fort célèbre en Angleterre, et ses romans—très moraux et très bien écrits—sont dans toutes les mains et revivent dans toutes les mémoires. Le serment de lady Adelaïde donneront à nos lecteurs une idée très suffisante du talent si élevé de mistress Henry Wood.”—L’Instruction Publique. ”

“ Lake walk out at the garden gate and up the road, all to avoid her. Why? She had committed no wrong--as she counted wrong, as the world counts it: never a woman less likely to commit that than Lady Ellis. She had but amused herself, and he the same; and she really could not understand why Mrs. Lake should make a fuss over it.
Mrs. Chester, meanwhile, seated with Clara, was in her most amiable mood. That the episode of Christmas-day had taken her aback far more than it had taken Lady Ellis, was indisputable; but she was one of those easy-going women who never retain unpleasant impressions long. ”

“ With all Lady Laura’s exactions and caprice, she was a generous mistress, and the servants liked her. Stiffing made herself comfortable in the servants’ sitting-room before a blazing fire. They seemed curious to know what had taken her out; “O, only a little errand for my lady,” was the indifferent answer. They were all shut up snugly enough there, and Judith was among them. Lady Jane was with Lucy, and Mr. Carlton had gone out.
The stairs were creaking—as stairs will creak when a stealthy footstep is upon them, and the house in silence. They were the back stairs, not the front ”

“ Yea, and belike these others think no better of my attire, or not much better; for yonder they are gathering small wood for the burnt-offering; which, forsooth, shall be thou and I, unless I better it all by means of the wisdom I learned of the old woman, and perfected betwixt the stripes of my Mistress, whom a little while ago thou lovedst somewhat.
And as she spake her eyes sparkled, her cheek flushed, and her limbs and her feet seemed as if they could scarce refrain from dancing for joy. Then Walter knit his brow, and for a moment a thought half-framed was in his mind. ”

“ She married Henry Wood in 1836, and after her marriage lived for the most part in France, her husband, who died in 1866, being at the head of a large shipping and banking, firm. In 1860 she wrote a temperance tale, Danesbury House, which gained a prize of £100 offered by the Scottish Temperance League ”

“ As he walked slowly up the narrow bricked walk to the house, he noticed how the chestnut roots and the frost together had heaved up the bricks and rendered the walk irregular. He wondered anxiously if she could walk over it in those shoes, and as he reached his door, which stood open under its old-fashioned porch, revealing a dusky cool vista beyond, he suddenly saw, as in a vision, a woman's shape stand between the lintels, waiting for him!—a woman with slender hands outstretched in welcome, grave grey eyes, soft hair, tender lips: the woman he loved: his own. ”

“ In the house adjoining the one in which he resided, there lived a stout little man, a shoemaker, famous in the village for his great wit and his very considerable knavery. His jokes were mostly practical, and some of the best of them exceedingly akin to felonies. Poor Wood could not understand his wit, but, in his simplicity of heart, he deemed him honest, and would fain have prevailed on the neighbours to think so too. ”

“ So—that is well. Still like your mother, strangely like, with none of her hard passions or cruel hate. Your love might be fierce, burning, and strong, but unlike her you would sacrifice your own happiness to secure the well being of the one you love. Had she done so, what misery to her, what misery to me might have been spared?"
"Did you know my mother?" asked Mr. Linchmore.
"Tell him, Anne," said Jane, as Mrs. Marks held some wine and water to her pale lips, that seemed too feeble to utter another word. ”

“ Will not he be valiant in the greenwood? And see whether he be well shapen or not. Doth he not touch thine heart, when thou thinkest of all the woe, and fear, and trouble of the World beyond the Wood, which he hath escaped, to dwell in this little land peaceably, and well-beloved both by the Mistress and the Maid? And thou, my Squire, look a little at this fair slim Maiden, and say if she pleaseth thee not: didst thou deem that we had any thing so fair in this lonely place? ”

“ And when I add that the injured husband has been married before and that his first wife, honestly supposed to be dead, returns to threaten his happiness, you will see that Mrs. Woods sets forth upon a path trodden by many hundreds of thousands of incompetent feet. ”

“ I ain't so sure but what there's a pair of us children in this hyeh room.”
Molly Wood was regarding him saucily. “I don't think I like you,” said she.
“That's all square enough. You're goin' to love me before we get through. I wish yu'd come a-ridin, ma'am.”
“Dear, dear, dear! So I'm going to love you? How will you do it? I know men think that they only need to sit and look strong and make chests at a girl—”
“Goodness gracious! I ain't makin' any chests at yu'!” Laughter overcame him for a moment, and Miss Wood liked his laugh very much. “Please come a-ridin',” he urged. ”

“ Pepperfly nearly dropped the candle into the saucepan. Although they knew, had they taken a moment’s leisure to reflect, that the knock came from Judith, who frequently took that mode of making her visit known on coming in from the other house, it considerably startled them.
Judith it was. And she laughed at them as she stepped inside the passage from the yard, and entered the kitchen.
“What a simpleton you be, Judy, to come frightening folks in that fashion!” cried the widow, irascibly. “One would think you were a child. Can’t you come into the house quiet and decent?” ”

“ A man in my condition, about to leave the world behind, prefers to talk while he can. You will take care of my wife, Karl. There was no settlement, you know, and----"
"I will take care of her to the best of my power, Adam," came the earnest interruption. "She shall have a proper and suitable jointure as the widowed Lady Andinnian."
"No, Karl; not that. She and I have talked over the future at odd moments, and we do not wish it. Rose does not mean to acknowledge her marriage with me, or to live in any kind of state in accordance with it. She will be Mrs. Grey to the end. ”