ad he
trusted her about those diamonds! How well he had behaved to her
throughout, and how fondly would he have loved and cherished her had
she confided her future to his care! He must be strangely altered now,
to avoid her like this. She was sure he recognised her, for she saw
his face fall, saw him wince--that at least was a comfort--but never
to shake hands, never even to stop and speak! Well, she had treated
him cruelly, and perhaps he was right.

But this was not the actual grievance, after all. She felt she would
do precisely the same over again. It was less repentance that pained
her, than retribution. Maud, for the first time in her life, was
beginning to feel really in love, and with her own husband. Such an
infatuation, rare as it is admirable, ought to have been satisfactory
and prosperous enough. When ladies do so far condescend, it is usually
a gratifying domestic arrangement for themselves and their lords;
but in the present instance the wife's increasing affection afforded
neither happiness to herself nor comfort to her husband. There was
a "Something" always between them, a shadow, not of suspicion nor
mistrust, for Bearwarden was frank and loyal by nature, but of
coldness. She had a secret from him, and she was a bad dissembler; his
finer instincts told him that he did not possess her full confidence,
and he was too proud to ask it. So they lived together a few short
weeks after marriage, on outward terms of courtesy and cordiality, but
with this little rift of dissatisfaction gradually yet surely widening
into a fissure that should rend each of these proud unbending hearts
in twain.

"What would I give to be like other wives," thought Maud, looking at
a half-length of her husband in uniform, which occupied the place of
honour in her boudoir. "What is it? Why is it? I would love him so, if
he would let me. How I wish I could be good--_really_ good, like mamma
was. I suppose it's impossible now. I wonder if it's too late to try."
And with the laudable intention of beginning amendment at once, Lady
Bearwarden rang sharply to tell her servants she was "not at home to
anybody till Lord Bearwarden came in, except"--and here she turned
away from her own footman, that he might not see the colour rising in
her face--"except a man should call with some silks and brocades, in
which case he was to be shown up-stairs at once."

The door had scarcely closed ere the paper-cutter in Maud's fingers
broke short off