despair had made in the beautiful girl. Her cheeks were sunk and burning with fever, her eyes almost closed with crying, and in front of her, on the table, lay a piece of bread she had apparently endeavoured to eat, and failed; it was soaked with the tears that dropped between her fingers.

Her hand was burning as she put it into that of Mrs. Steyne.

"I am afraid you are very ill, Mrs. Hinton," said the other, kindly. She had always felt interested in the young wife, though their acquaintance had been of the slightest. "I came to see if I could be of any service," she continued: "my children told me you seemed ill."

"You are very kind, ma'am. I should-I meant to have come and seen you to-day, though I don't see as you can do me any good; but he forbid me ever to speak to you, or let any of you come inside the doors— even the children, ma'am, poor little dears; and I've not a soul to speak to."

"What has set your husband against us, think you ?"

"I don't know, ma'am: I cannot say, indeed. It's something about the work, and this evening he's worse than ever. He came in a bit since, and was swearing, oh! he did swear what he would do to Mr. Steyne-about some work of Mr. Crichton's, the publican's; and he thought to get it, and he says Mr. Steyne's to have it.-See there, maʼam!”

She pointed to the floor, the other side the table, where lay the remains of a newly-made cake, apparently trampled under foot, and crushed to atoms.

"He used to be so fond of them-I made it on

purpose. I did hope, as it was Saturday, we might have a comfortable tea, and be a bit quiet; but he came in in such a temper, and he stormed, and cursed me, and smashed that glass-see ye there, ma'am! I brought them with me when I left my place to be married."

The young wife burst into another fit of crying, and clasped her hands before her face.

Mrs. Steyne sat down by her side, and with kind and soothing words attempted to console her.

"You're very good, ma'am. I do wish I had known you before. You see the women hereabouts, they go on so against him, and it does make me feel so bad. I can't bear to hear them, I can't."

"I am sure you cannot. I can quite understand you, my poor girl. I do indeed wish I had known your troubles sooner. Something of it I did guess; but it is so difficult to venture on such a sad subject. But you will come and see me now, and the children; they are so fond of you. They sent you these flowers."

"Bless them, and you too, ma'am. But I daren't, I daren't. He threatened me so. And I am so afraid for you, ma'am, if he should find you here."

"Never mind for me; I've no fear," said Mrs. Steyne.

"It was that hurt me so: it seemed so hard, when I've no friend, no one to speak to. You've got a happy home, maʼam-a kind husband-I thought I should once. It was all I wanted: I never cared for anything else. I didn't ask for company, nor for fine clothes, nor to go to fairs, nor dances, nor nothing,only for him to love me, and to let me love him

and wait upon him, and keep all nice and happy; and see!-see!" she looked round almost fiercely through her tears-" see what he's made it! He hates me! he curses me! he won't let me love him! Oh, my heart's just broken-broken!

Mrs. Steyne's lip quivered, and she could not for a moment speak. Presently she said

"Poor girl! poor girl! I know how little anything I can say will comfort you. Yet if you would try-"

"Try! Haven't I tried? Haven't I coaxed him, and borne with him, and heard his cursing and threatening, and answered him never a word? Haven't I sat, watching and waiting, and wouldn't put so much as a cup of tea to my lips, till he came? Haven't I sat facing him, evening after evening through, and him never opening his lips to me, to as much as thank me? Haven't I tried to be sullen and cool too; but I couldn't, because I love him? Haven't I tried to think nothing about it, and to can't, for my heart aches for him to love me? Haven't I laid and cried the whole night long by his side till morning came, and never closed my eyes ? And han't he cursed me crying, and cursed me laughing? What haven't I tried? It's easy to say try!"

laugh it off; but I

Then with a fresh burst of passionate tears-" Oh, I know I'm wrong to say all this! He's my husband, he is-and maybe I'm not always right-and he'd never be so but for the drink! Oh, ma'am, forgive me! don't think anything of what I've said. I wish I was dead! I do! I do! He won't let me love him, he won't and I've nobody to love me!-nobody to love me !-"

She repeated the words several times, rocking herself to and fro, like one in great bodily pain.

Mrs. Steyne's eyes were turned to the ground, the tears were falling silently from them.

"You see," said she, gently, after a pause, "I do know something of what you suffer; for I know how vain it would be to offer any consolation. It would sound only like a mockery. But, dear Mrs. Hinton—” "Oh, don't call me that !—call me Cary, please, dear ma'am."

The good woman sighed, and a troubled expression crossed her face.

"Do not bring yourself to believe that no one cares for you. Believe me, I do not say it idly. I care; and shall think of you, and pray for you, constantly. My children love you, and my husband often speaks of you as a pattern wife. If it be any comfort to you, my dear, believe we all think of you, and would serve all we can. You must come and see us."

you

Cary shook her head.

"I should be the last to ask you to do anything contrary to your husband's wish; but why is reason given us if we are to blind and cripple it? Obedience might be carried to a sin, surely, in this way. It will be for your good, my dear, that you should come to us, it cannot harm anyone: use your own sense and judgment in all things. Be sure it was never meant that duty should be a punishment. We will see each other often; and you will for my sake, for your own health's sake, try and struggle against despair."

"God bless you, ma'am; you have made me feel better!"

As Mrs. Steyne reached the door, in advance of Mrs. No. 6.

G

Hinton, she observed a young man, with the air and seeming of a gentleman, pass the house, and quickly disappear among the wild shrubbery which skirted the waste behind the cottage.

It passed rapidly through her mind that on one occasion before she had met the same figure, late in the evening, as she was returning from a walk with her husband-and close to Hinton's.

She stopped-came back; and, closing the door, she said

"It is not so late as I thought. May I stay a little longer ? "

"Oh ma'am, and welcome: only if he should come." "Never fear for me. I had it in my mind to tell you something, my dear; and as we may not have another opportunity very soon, let me tell you now.

"It is not a long story, but I know such true histories give us comfort at times.

"It is of a young couple who lived some few years ago in London.

"The husband had been well educated; he had a great talent and liking for his profession; and it was thought he would succeed extremely well.

"He was the only son of a widow lady, who was so fond of him that she could deny him nothing; and he was enabled to associate with young men very far above his station in life. The consequence was, that, being very easily persuaded, and of the most amiable disposition, he was led into all kinds of dissipation; lent, and gave, and treated, right and left; and, worse than all, neglected forming such connexions as would have been beneficial to him in his career.

"His mother died suddenly; and then it was found