Grace Livingston Hill's "According to the Pattern" is an engaging romantic story of a wife learning of her husband's attention to a wealthy married woman. The religious aspect happens later in the novel. Living life and accepting the worldly ways without God being the center of family is indeed becoming the norm and it is especially interesting to see that there was a loss of faith back then too. I love these old fashioned stories.
Story in short- Miriam who thought her marriage and life perfect until her world was shaken.
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and saw the discontented faces of the over-dressed man and woman who sat as far apart as the width of the seat would allow, and appeared to endure their drive as two dumb animals might if this were a part of their daily round. What if she rode in state like that with a husband such as he? She had shuddered and been conscious of thankfulness
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over her home and her husband. What if Claude did stay away from home a good deal evenings! It was in the way of his business, he said, and she must be more patient. There would come a time by and by when he would have enough, so that they could live at their ease, and he need not go to the city ever any more. And into the midst of the bright dream she had conjured came little Celia’s prattle: “Mamma, see! Papa tummin’! Pitty lady!” She had looked down curiously to see who it was that reminded the child of her father, and her whole being froze within her. Her breath seemed not to come at all, and she had turned so ghastly white that the baby put up her hand and touched her cheek, saying, “Mamma, pitty mamma! Poor mamma!” For there on the seat of a high, stylish cart drawn by shining black horses with arched necks, and just below a tall elegant woman, who was driving, sat her husband. Claude! Yes, little Celia’s papa! Oh, that moment!
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She forced herself to remember his face with its varying expressions as she had watched it till it was out of sight. There was no trouble in recalling it; it was burned into her soul with a red-hot iron. He had been talking to that beautiful woman as he used to talk to her when they were first engaged. That tender, adoring gaze; his eyes lovelighted. It was unmistakable! A heart-breaking revelation! There was no use trying to blind herself. There was not the slightest hope that he could come home and explain this away as a business transaction, or a plot between him and that other woman to draw her out into the world, or any of those pretty fallacies that might happen in books. It was all true, and she had known it instantly. It had been revealed to her as in a flash, the meaning of long months of neglect, supposed business trips, luncheons, and dinners at the club instead of the homecoming. She knew it. She ought to have seen it before. If she had not been so engrossed in her little world of the household she
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would have done so. Indeed, now that she knew it, she recognized also that she had been given warnings of it. Her husband had done his best to get her out. He had suggested and begged, but she had not been well during the first years of the two elder children, and the coming of the third had again filled her heart and mind. Her home was enough for her, always provided he was in it. It was not enough for him. She had tried to make it a happy one; but perhaps she had been fretful and exacting sometimes, and it may
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be she had been in fault to allow the children to be noisy when their father was at home. He had always been fond of society, and had been brought up to do exactly as he pleased. It was hard for him to be shut in as she was, but that was a woman’s lot. At least it was the lot of the true mother who did not trust her little ones to servants. Ah, was she excusing him? That must not be. He was her husband. She loved him deeply, tenderly, bitterly; but she would not excuse him.
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I did not like Claude until later in the story when he truly saw that he had sinned against his wife. I loved Miriam's plan and courage, she was careful how she approached and when it would be best. She had seen Claude and Mrs. Sylvester at the party, she had thought all was lost but the worse had to happen before things got better. I loved that both husband and wife found the need for Christ in their lives and they came to it separately but then they saw the importance of the whole family living a Christian life. It was sad that Mrs. Sylvester continued in her evil ways. Claude had a nice home and he started to want worldly activities, he should have talked to his wife and she should have spent more time with him. In the end they saw how important a life in a home that is centered on God and family.
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He should not have been riding with a wealthy woman of fashion while his own wife came to the park on the trolley and took care of her baby as he passed by. He was not a man of wealth yet, though they had hoped he would one day be; but how did he get into this set? How came he to be sitting beside that lovely lady with the haughty air who had smiled so graciously down upon him? Her soul recoiled even now as she remembered that her husband should be looking up in that way to any woman—that is, any woman but
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herself—oh, no! Not even that! She wanted her husband to be a man above, far above herself She must respect him. She could not live if she could not do that. What should she do? Was there anything to do? She would die. Perhaps that was the way out of it—she would die. It would be an easy affair. No heart could bear many such mighty grips of horror as had come upon hers that afternoon. It would not take long. But the children—her three little children! Could she leave them to the world—to another woman,
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perhaps, who would not love them? No, not that. Not even to save them from the shame of a father who had learned to love another woman than his wife. She reasoned this out. It seemed to her that her brain had never seen things so clearly before in all her life.
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Miriam Hammond Winthrop—who had thought when she married that she would be the most devoted of wives, she had let her husband drift away from her, and had helped on the destruction that was coming surely and swiftly to her little children. Was it too late? Was the past utterly irretrievable? Had he gone too far? Had he lost his love for her entirely? Was her power all gone? She used to be able to bring the lovelight into his eyes. Could she ever do it again?
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She longed to have her husband come home that she might throw herself at his feet and beg and plead with him for her happiness, to save their home; she longed to accuse him madly, and fling scorching words at him, and watch his face as she told him how she and his baby had seen him that afternoon; and then she longed again to throw her arms about his neck and cry upon his breast as she used to do when they were first married, and any little thing happened that she did not like. How she used to cry over trifles then! How could she, when such a world of sorrow was coming to her so soon? She was wise enough to know that none of these longings of her heart must be carried into effect if she would win her husband. In his present attitude he would laugh at her fears! She seemed to understand that her anguish would only anger him because he would feel condemned. Her own soul knew that she could not take him back into
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her heart of hearts until she won him back and he came of his own accord confessing his wrong to her. But would that ever be? He was a good man at heart, she believed. He would not do wrong, not very wrong, not knowingly. Perhaps he had not learned to love any other woman, only to love society, and—to—cease to love her. If her dear, wise mother were there! But no! She could not tell her. She must never breathe this thing to any living soul if she would hope to do anything! His honor should be
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hers. She would protect him from even her own condemnation so long as she could. But what to do and how to do it!
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But the wife’s heart suddenly overflowed with gratitude toward the paper. It was trying to do good in the world, it was ready to help the helpless. Why should she be ashamed to write? No one would ever know who it was. And she
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need not consider herself from last night’s view-point. She had come to a terrible strait. Trouble and shame had entered her life. She no longer stood upon the high pinnacle of joy in happy wifehood!