her
destined way, and none of the people she met in society--nor even
her nearest friends--had any suspicion of her real state of mind. As
a wife, her sense of honor was keen. From that virtuous poise, her
mind had neither variableness nor shadow of turning. No children
came with silken wrappings to hide and make softer the bonds that
held her to her husband in a union that only death could dissolve;
the hard, icy, galling links of the chain were ever visible, and
their trammel ever felt. Cold and desolate the elegant home
remained.

In society, Mrs. Dexter continued to hold a brilliant position. She
was courted, admired, flattered, envied--the attractive centre to
every circle of which she formed a part. Rarely to good advantage
did her husband appear, for her mind had so far outrun his in
strength and cultivation, that the contrast was seriously against
him--and he felt it as another barrier between them.

One year of pride was enough for Mr. Dexter. A beautiful, brilliant,
fashionable wife was rather a questionable article to place on
exhibition; there was danger, he saw, in the experiment. And so he
deemed it only the dictate of prudence to guard her from temptation.
An incident determined him. They were at Newport, in the mid-season;
and their intention was to remain there two weeks. They had been to
Saratoga, where the beauty and brilliancy of Mrs. Dexter drew around
her some of the most intelligent and attractive men there. All at
once her husband suggested Newport.

"I thought we had fixed on next week," said Mrs. Dexter, in reply.

"I am not well," was the answer. "The sea air will do me good."

"We will go to-morrow, then," was the unhesitating response. Not
made with interest or feeling; but promptly, as the dictate of
wifely duty.

Just half an hour previous to this brief interview, Mr. Dexter was
sitting in one of the parlors, and near him were two men, strangers,
in conversation. The utterance by one of them of his wife's name,
caused him to be on the instant all attention.

"She's charming!" was the response.

"One of the most fascinating women I have ever met! and my
observation, as you know, is not limited. She would produce a
sensation in Paris."

"Is she a young widow?"

"No--unfortunately."

"Who, or what is her husband?" was asked.

"A rich nobody, I'm told."

"Ah! He has taste."

"Taste in beautiful women, at least," was the rejoinder.

"Is he here?"

"I believe so. He would