Year: 1877

the drawer her husband put the key in
his pocket, and then resting both arm.
on the leaf OF the secretary, buried his
face in them and sat motionless.


Turning away as noiselessly as she had
approached, Mrs. Rowland fed back Ia
her chamber in wild flight, and sat down
painting in bewilderment. As room a,
thought began to move in determined
way, the first result was Hood of ihdigl
nation, n burning sense of wrong, and il
was only by an effort that the outraged
wife could hold herself back from con-
fronting her husband and demanding to
see the miniature. A calmer, bu. no,
less painful state succeeded, In which
conscience whispered of Indifference and
neglect. Had she turned habitually her
most or her least attractive side TO her
husband? Had she kept herself lovely
in his eyes-lovely in temper and lovely
~ person. Her heart sank: it grew
DARKER apd darker around her; life
teeined crushed out


"Who is it?" This question marked
a change in the current of Mrs. How
lands thoughts. Rapidly she passed in
review one lady friend after another, but
without an incident to fix suspicion.
The times and seasons in which her hus
band had beeii abseht from home were
dwelt upon. Once week regularly he
went out in the evening, occasionally
twice. The regular absence was for the
purpose of attending literary society
at least 80, he had informed his wife.
Now, for the first time. doubt of his
truth crept in, and this doubt was the
sweeping away of all the sure founda-
tion on which her soul had rested.


For a time Mr.. Rowland remained sit
ting at his secretary with his face buried
in his hands. At length, rising with slow
weary motion. rs If of one exhausted by
bodily or mental eXertion, he drew out
bis watch.


"Half-past nine!" was CALCULATED in
surprise. And then he looked through
the door over towards the chamber
whittier his wife had gone with the
children, and stood listening for some
sound. All Wis silent. For short time
he moved in an uneasy, irresolhte way
about the room, and sitting down, tried
to find interest in the pages of book.
But in little while the volume closed
in his hand. Thought was too busy in
another direction to dwell even with a
favorite author.


"Ten o'clockv' The bell was ringing
its clear nDtes from neighboring steeple.
Mr.. Rowland started up,and turning out
the light. went over to the sleeping-room.
His wife was in bel. He spoke to her,
but she did not answer.


"Are you asleep?" No motion nor re.
sponse of any kind. She lay with her face
nearly hidden under the bed clothes. He
looked at her in strange earnest manner
for some moments, and then, moving
about noiselessly prepared for rest. The
day had been one of much activity, and
Mr.. Rowland was weary enough fol-
sleep. Soon after his head touched the
pillow he was in the land of dreams
His deep breathing had scarcely given
evidence OF the fact ere light movement
on the part of Mrs. Rowland showed her
to be awake. Presently she drew the
clothes from her face, and raised herself
cautiously. The heavy breathing of her
husband was not disturbed. She sat up
in bed he still slept on; she glided from
beneath the covering, and cropping in the
darkness, found her husbands vest, from
which she took key.


"Motherw The slight noise made
opening the chamber door had disturbed
one of the children. Mrs. Rowland
stood still holding her breath. The call
was not repeated, and she went out.
cropping her way along the passage with
a hand on the wall. Entering the room
she sought, she closed the door behind
her and drew the belt, fastening herself
In. After lighting the gas she went to
her husbands secretary, and with the
KEY in her possession unlocked one of the
private drawers. Her hand shook as the
key ratified on the scutcheon before a
way was found into the wards. The
first object that met her view as the
drawer came open was morocco minia-
ture case, which she seized upon with a
clutch as eager as that of bird of prey
and bearing it to the gas-light, unloosed
her clasp and exposed the free Of her
rival.


II was a young and lovely face, and
the eyes looked up into hers with ten
der and sweet expression. Away from
the pure forehead the hair OF golden au-
burn fell smsoth back, and lay in curls
about her meek, that was whittier and
purer thfA alabaster. The lips were
full, soft, and arched as il for fight of
arrows. Loves witchery was in the
picture counteDance.


Still, very still, did the wife sit and
gaze down upon her rivals face-that
face on which, scarcely an hour before,
she had seen her husbands kisses laid.
Still, very still, she sat, the tears creep.
ing out of her eyes, falling slowly over
her cheeks and dropping upon the mini
ature. Was she jealous of that rival ?
No Her heart was too glad for .jeal-
ousy, too full Of joy, too wild with new
born Happiness. The bride of ten years
ago was the rival of to-day, and the
heart of her husband was true 10 his
marriage vows II was no fault of his
that he could not love what had become
unlovely. Not unlovely in the poorer
sisnification of that word, a. indicating
changes wrought by the wearing hand OF
time, but unlovely through indulgence
and i'm patience, and fretiulness, and in
the neglect Of self-discipline--unlovely,
also, from carelessness of attire and per-
sonal neatness.


With the image Of herself as she was
ten years before, and with the image Of
her husband fondly, passionately kirsing
that image, dwelling in her imagination,
Mrs. Rowland went back to her bed.
She had suddenly awakened from a
dream, and the language of her heart
was "Thank God, am awakep