Madge--I am tired
rather--there--good-night.'

She got her sister out of the room only in time. Her overstrained
calmness had at length given way. She threw herself on the bed, and
burst into a passion of weeping; and thus she lay far into the night,
stifling her sobs so that no one should hear.

CHAPTER XX.

THE SHADOW.

The process of disenchantment is one of the saddest and one of the
commonest things in life; whether the cause of it be the golden youth
who, apparently a very Bayard before marriage, after marriage gradually
reveals himself to be hopelessly selfish, or develops a craving for
brandy, or becomes merely brutal and ill-tempered; or whether it is the
creature of all angelic gifts and graces who, after her marriage,
destroys the romance of domestic life by her slatternly ways, or sinks
into the condition of a confirmed sigher, or in time discovers to her
husband that he has married a woman comprising in herself, to use the
American phrase, nine distinct sorts of a born fool. These discoveries
are common in life; but they generally follow marriage, which gives
ample opportunities for study. Before marriage man and maid meet but
at intervals; and then both are alike on their best behaviour. The
slattern is no slattern now; she is always dainty and nice and neat;
the golden youth is generous to a fault, and noble in all his ways; and
if either or both should be somewhat foolish, or even downright stupid,
the lack of wisdom is concealed by a tender smile or a soft touch of
the hand. It is the dream-time of life; and it is not usual for one to
awake until it is over.

But it was different with Frank King. The conditions in which he was
placed were altogether peculiar. He had made two gigantic
mistakes--the first in imagining that any two human beings could be
alike: the second in imagining that, even if they were alike, he could
transfer his affection from the one to the other--and he was now
engaged in a hopeless and terrible struggle to convince himself that
these were not mistakes. He would not see that Madge Beresford was
very different from Nan. He was determined to find in her all he had
hoped to find. He argued with himself that she was just like Nan, as
Nan had been at her age. Madge was so kind, and good, and nice; of
course it would all come right in the end.

At the same time, he never wished to be alone with Madge, as is the
habit of lovers. Nor if he was suddenly intereste