Year: 1875

Few women have ever loved more ten
derly than Mrs. Farley did when she
was married. She thought her young
husband the very flower of his race his
beauty delighted her, and the manly
nobility she fancied, and the genius to
which all testified, made it seem that if
man was little lower than the angels,
that he was little more than a man.
She wondered (Which was natural), and
told him of it (Which was unwise), what
he saw in her-small, poor, plain and
he would laugh and declare propinquity
did half the mischief that was done, and
sometimes add that she had beauty
which satisfied him.


In the first flush of her marriage, in
what sunshine, in what rosy happiness,
little Mrs. Farley walked Oh, but it
was brief flush Brief as it was, the
memory of it was all she had to warm
herself with for many dreary day that
followed. The honeymoon was not past
before she knew that hers was the too
common fate of those who marry an idol
she was to do all the worshiping.
Not that she recognized it in such set
style she only felt dimly that she had
little worship herself, yet somehow was
content-with vague shade in the back
ground-at being allowed to worship.
The worst was when Mrs. Farley found
herself unable to worship.


Yet that was not Immediately. What
was Immediately, though, was the cir
cumstance that Mr.. Farley so disliked
being considered uxorious that he
neglected his wife cruelty, and the nights
she lay crying alone taught her the
dominant key of his character, though
she dared not call it by name-in this
man she had SO adored Mr.. Farley
was much absent about his work, more
over, his steps being led here and there
for sketches, frequently where she could
not accompany him. That she never
minded, SO long as she could sit in the
studio afterward and watch his pictures
grow.


They grew very slowly. Mr. Farley
was dawdler; he liked to paint little,
and then light his pipe and lie down.
He said he was mellowing his ideas he
was really taking his ease. Then he
would paint little more, and suddenly
throw down palette, brush, maui stick,
declare he must change the poles, and
take his French novel, or else go for a
friend and stroll. When Mrs. Farley
had limited, in.the sweetest manner, that
little more effort would keep the tide
OF inspiration clear, Mr.. Farley had re-
piled that of all things looker-on was
the most hindering, and had locked the
studio door, where, of course, Mrs. Far
ley sat no more.


Nevertheless, it was not long before
many things were badly needed in the
household, When they were supplied,
MIR. Farley never inquired into their
source; he never gave enough thought
to them to imagine they had source :;
and when he saw Mrs. Farley busy with
the fancy work she had procured from a
dealer, he thought she might be better
employed. 1t never occurred to him.
when article by article of his underwear
was replaced, that it was not something
which had slipped out of sight and es-
capped use; and when now and then he
found an unexpected bank note in his
pocket, small though its dimensions
were, he called that pocket the widows
cruise, and said it was way his money
always had. OF course Mrs. Farley
never received any thanks for deeds of
which he was unconscious and not the
least of her pain was that he was so un-
conscious. He should have been CON
scious, he should have thought If he
had loved her, he would have thought.
Yet, after his way, he did love her-as
well as he could love anybody but him
self, the being in whom he was com
pletely wrapped.


When they were married, Mr.. Farley,
living after Bohemian fashion in a
couple of rooms, took his wife there,
and they dined at pretty restaurant a
pleasant walk away. But when Mr..
Farley learned trick of not coming
home from his stroll till midnight, hav-
ing found pleasant friends and forgotten
the rest, and his wife did not dine at all
unless there were chance cracker in
the closet, then the restaurant was
gradually given up for an impromptu
kitchen, where charming dinners we're