Year: 1859

ms was bad beginning OF the lessoh'-
wanted to teach her, and | turned over my
papers in silence.


DO | annoy you, Francis ?


Not much


Her light hand was playing with my hair,
and her breath was warm on my cheek. |
felt my wisdom vanishing, and tried to make
up for its loss by an increased coldness Of
manner.


'Ono kiss, she said, just one, and I'll go
away


What nonsense, Alice What time have
to think Of kisses now


DO tease you, Francis 2


Very much


She gave little sigh--so faint that could
scarcely hear it--and left the room. had
scared her gaiety away for that morning.


This was the first cloud in our sky.


1t seems strange, now, when look back
upon it after the lapse Of years how persovor-
ngly labored to destroy the foundation OF
peace and happiness on which might have
built my life The remaining six months Of
that year were months Of misery to me, and
doubt not to Alice, for she grew thin and pale,
and lost her gaiety. | had succeeded only
too we'll in my pain, and she had learned to
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look in her eyes now and then, and by the
way in which she seemed to cling to her dog,
as if his fidelity and love were now her only
hope But ! was too proud to own myselfin
the wrong, and the breach widened day by
day.


In the midst of this enlargement the dog
sickened There was a week Of misgiving on
Aliccs part, when she sat beside him with
her book or writing all the time-there was a
day when both books and manuscript were put
away, and she was bending over him, with her
tears falling fast. as she tried to hush his
moans aud looked into his fast glazing eyes
and there was an hour of stiffness, when she
lay on the low couch, neither speaking nor
stirring. And when the poor creatures last
breath was done. she bent over him with a
passionate burst Of grief, kissed the white
spot upon his forehead, and then closed the
soft, dark eyes. that even in death were turn
ed towards her with a loving look
She did not come 30 me for sympathy She
watched alone, while the gardener dug a
grave and buried him beneath the study
window. She never mentioned him to me,
and never paid her daily visit to his grave till
was busy with my papers for the evening.
So the year which had begun in love and hap
piness, came to its close.


sat in the study alone, one morning in
the February following, looking over some
deeds that had been long neglected, when
heard Alice singing in the balcony outside
the window. 1t was the first time had heard
her singing since Fred's DEATH and | laid
down my pen to listen. But hearing her
coming through the hall, | took it up again
and affected to be very busy.


1t was a warm, bright, beautiful day, and
she seemed to bring burst of sunlight and
happiness with her as she opened the door.
Her own face, too, was radiant, and she look
ed like the Alice Of the old farmhouse, as
she came on tip-toe and bent over my chair,


Well, what is it :; l asked, looking up.


She laid a pretty little boquet Of violets,
tied with blue ribbons, before me.


Il have been to the conservatory, and have
brought you the first flowers of the season,
Francis. And something else, which, per-
haps you may not like so we'll


She bent over me as she spoke, and lean
ing her hand lightly on my shoulder, kissed
me twice. She had been chary of her cares
ses for some time, and when she did this of
her own accord ! wheeled round in my chair
and looked up at her.


You seem very happy to-day, Alice


1t is somebody's birthday, she said. sta
tioning herself upon my knee, and looking
into my eyes. And l wish somebody very
many happy returns'-her voice faltered a lit.
tle-'and if there has been any wrong feeling,
Francis, for the last six months, we will bury
it to-day, now and forever.


She clung to me in silence, and hid her
face upon my breast. was moved in spite
of myself, and kissed the brown hair that
was scattered over my shoulder, and said
was quito willing to forget everything as if
l had anything to forget , At which she
looked up with a bright smile, and | dare
say thought me very magnanimous.


And we will make a new beginning from
this day, Francis.


If you will, my child


She caressed me again, after a queer little
fashion of her own, which always made me
smile, and which consisted of series of kiss
es bestowed systemically, on different parts
of my face-four, believe, being allotted to
my forehead, two to each cheek, two to the
chin, four to my lips, and four to my eyes,
She went through this ceremony with pains
taking care, nd then looked me in the face
All her love and tenderness seemed to come
up before me in that moment, and eaace the
past and its unhappiness. held her closely
to my heart, and her arms were aroand my
neck


win any one believe it, My wife had
scarcely left me five moments before the fan
cy came to me that had shown too plainly
the power she had over me. For months
had been schooling myself into coldness and
indifference, and at her very first warm kiss
or smile, was completely routed She had
vexed, and thwarted, and annoyed me much
during those months it would not do to par
don her so fully and entirely before she had
even asked my forgiveness. | took a sudden
resolutions and, when she came back into
the room, was buried in my papers once more,
Poor child She had had one half hour :
sunshine, at least.


One moment she said, taking the pen out
Of my hand, and holding something up over
my head, 4 have birthday gift for you
DO you want il z


If you give it to me, certainly


Then ask me for it,


| said nothing, but took up my pen again
Her countenance fell a little.


Would you like it ? she said tmidly.


There was saint in old times | said
quietly, going on with my papers, "a name
sake of mine, by the way - Saint Francis Of
Sales-who was accustomed to say, that one
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