The weekly standard., 1869-09-08


she reflected that this other was her hus-
band, in whom only her happiness ought to
lie. What then She would not think out
her puzzle Instead with hope young again
in her heart, she made her hair smooth,
her dress tasteful and went down stairs to
sit in the moonlight besides the man from
whose coldness, only last night she had been
tempted to flee away. a'
Do not ask me for running commentary
on my story. show you woman as she
was. IF you cannot comprehend her, on ac-
count of her strange moods, be sure that you
are no worse off than he was, for she did not
at all comprehend herself.
For few days her husbands newly-born
devotion made her happy. Then reaction
came over her, and she was wretched. The
better satisfied she became with him, the
more dissatisfied she became with herself.
Not caress did he give her that she did
not think" Would he do this, and this, II
he knew how near l had come to loving
some one else 2" She grew at last to shrink
secretly from every demonstration of his
love; and he, watching her keenly, felt that
somehow the past was raising a barrier be-
tween them and wondered sadly if his best
endeavors were to fail, and this wife of his
heart was never again to be fully and freely
his own. .,... ...r.- ...... ...
As for her, she grew thin and pale. Her
bright lips were bright no longer, her eyes
had dark rings under them. Night after
night she lay awake and thought, and
thought, come always to the same conclusion
she had no right to his love until he knew
all: and if he knew all, he himself would
withdraw it from her. She was not ready
to trust him, because he had been so old for
his years, so fixed in his ways so unimpas-
stoned during all the first months of their
married life, that she could not believe it
would be in his power either to understand
or forgive her. So she went on, bearing
her burden through slow days and silent
nights, until the anniversary of their we'd
ding day came round. t.... .....l-
Through the day her uncle and his wife
were with them, and a few other friends.
The little festival was of the husbands plan
ming, and the wife felt that in barely living
through it, in bearing and answering con-
gratulations upon her happy fate, she had
gone to the uttermost limit of her endurance.
The guests wondered at this white still
wrath, the unwifelike bride, this woman
Wuou SluSic yCai oCoh0o " ho'O euihSA
to a stone. Joseph Hannaford's heart sank
within him. Was nothing, then, left for
him but to plant rosemary over the grave OF
his hopes How thankful he was when the
last guest was gone. HE came then and
stood by the side of his wife, and drew a
ring from his pocket. .......-..... 4
II don't know that you will care for it
now," he said; "but / got this ring to give
you as the token of new bridal. If you
could love me to-day as well as you did one
year ago could make you happier, tor
understand better what love means to
women" ..-.
She drew away the hand he had taken,
brilliant color famed in her cheeks, and her
heart throbbed chokingly, but courage
which was half desperation shone from her
eyes. She spoke passionately.
"You must not put that ring on; you
must never say one tender word to me again
until you know me just as am"
Then told clearly, steadily, unfalteringly,
without reserve or concealment, her story
came. 1t was the story OF her whole mar
ried life; her disappointment because he did
not love her enough; her patient little en-
deavors to please him, which bore no fruit;
then Hugh Warnings interest and tenderness,
and, last of all, his love, and the strong
temptation it was to her. And then she
cried. almost with a sob-"It has nearly
killed me to have you so good and kind as
you have been lately. Every fond word
or deed has pierced me like knife, for
have thought how different you would be if
you knew 1t all. And the more l loved you