was dumbfounded and deeply moved by his
really startling behaviour. He was so incredibly gentle. His parting
words, such words as I had never thought to hear upon his lips, were:

'Heaven bless you both!' And then, as I could have sworn, with
moisture in his eyes, he added: 'You are both good souls, and--after
all, some are happy!'

For so convinced and angry a cynic and pessimist, his behaviour had
been remarkable. When I returned to Fanny she was admiring her pretty,
new, dove-coloured frock in the fly-blown mirror of our sitting-room.
Poor child, her experience of new frocks had not been extensive.

'He's a real gentleman, is Mr. Heron,' she said with a little
welcoming smile to me. I liked the smile; but, almost for the first
time I think, on that day at all events, her words jarred on me a
little. But what jarred more perhaps was the fact that these words, so
apparently innocent and harmless, sent a vagrant thought through my
mind that filled me with harsh self-contempt. The thought will
doubtless appear even more paltry than it was if put into words, but
it was something to the effect that-- Of course, Heron was a
gentleman! Why else would he be a friend of mine?

Perhaps the thought was hardly so absurd as my solemn self-contempt
over it! ...

IX

I have sometimes thought that, in its early days at all events, and
before the more serious trouble arose, our married life might have
been a little brighter if we had quarrelled occasionally. It would
perhaps have shown a more agreeable disposition in me. But we did not
quarrel. I felt, and probably showed, displeasure and dissatisfaction;
and Fanny-- But how shall I presume to tell what Fanny felt? She
showed occasional tears, and what I grew to think rather frequent
sulks and peevishness.

Our first difficulties began within a day or two of our marriage.
Chief among them I would place what I regarded as my wife's altogether
unaccountable and quite unreasonable determination to keep up
relations with her mother. I thought I was unfairly treated here, and
I made no allowance for filial feelings, or the influence of Fanny's
life-long tutelage. I only saw that she had very gladly allowed me to
rescue her from the tyranny of a spiteful, gin-drinking, old woman;
and that, within forty-eight hours, she was for visiting her mother as
a regular thing, and even proposed that I should join her in this.

That was one of the early difficulties; and another, more di