ly of my marriage, and the occupations it imposed
upon her--of her approaching expedition, and the delight with
which she should again return to us in the spring.

If, like the angel who conducted Parnell's Hermit, some
heavenly guide had pointed out to an invisible witness of this
quiet scene of domestic happiness, the secrets that were
buried under its smooth surface, what a start of horror would
he not have given, how would he not have shuddered if that
angel had said, "Look upon those three women! See that fair
young creature, in whose pure eyes there is a depth of holy
thought and tranquil peace, such as this world can never give
or take away; and it is well for her that it should be so;
for, beautiful as she is, and priceless as are the treasures
of her heart and mind, she has been delivered over to one who
counts these treasures as dross, and whose perverted taste
sees more of beauty in the turbid stream than in the pure
lake,--in the flashing eye and stormy brow, than in the calm
gaze of purity and love. She stands alone in the strength of
her faith, in the might of her innocence; but even now a new
link has wound itself round her heart; and though her step be
firm, and her soul be strong, they must wax firmer and
stronger still, for the sake of the child whom she bears in
her womb. Now she is chained down to earth; now she can no
longer say with St. Paul, 'To die is gain.' Now she can no
longer pass through the world as if she belonged not to it.
She must cling to him whose name she bears; she must follow
his steps; she must watch his eyes;

'She most pour her hearths rich treasures forth,
Although unrepaid for their priceless worth;'

for he is the father of her child; and what God has thus
joined together, nothing in Heaven or on earth can put
asunder. But who stands between her and her husband? Whose
eyes draw away the glances that should be fixed on hers? Whose
ears hear and tolerate the words of love which should be hers
alone? Do you see the girl that holds her hand, and leans on
the back of the couch where she sits? One hair of her unworthy
head is more dear to that infatuated man, than all the
matchless beauty, the sacred purity, the unstained affection
of his young wife. Look at that other woman, whose eyes are
fixed with such tender and ardent affection on the same girl,
whose childhood she has blessed, whose youth she has watched
over, and on whose head she has heaped blessings without e