d sleep. She wished so to be alone.
The poorest bed in a servant's garret would have been thrice welcome to
her; liberty to lie awake, to think without a disturbing presence, to
shed tears of need be--that seemed to her a precious boon. She thought
with envy of the shop-girls in Walworth Road; wished herself back
there. What unspeakable folly she had committed! And how true was
everything she had heard from Rhoda Nunn on the subject of marriage!
The next day Widdowson resorted to an expedient which he had once
before tried in like circumstances. He wrote his wife a long letter,
eight close pages, reviewing the cause of their troubles, confessing
his own errors, insisting gently on those chargeable to her, and
finally imploring her to cooperate with him in a sincere endeavour to
restore their happiness. This he laid on the table after lunch, and
then left Monica alone that she might read it. Knowing beforehand all
that the letter contained, Monica glanced over it carelessly. An answer
was expected, and she wrote one as briefly as possible.

'Your behaviour seems to me very weak, very unmanly. You make us both
miserable, and quite without cause. I can only say as I have said
before, that things will never be better until you come to think of me
as your free companion, not as your bond-woman. If you can't do this,
you will make me wish that I had never met you, and in the end I am
sure it won't be possible for us to go on living together.'

She left this note, in a blank envelope, on the hall table, and went
out to walk for an hour.

It was the end of one more acute stage in their progressive discord. By
keeping at home for a fortnight. Monica soothed her husband and
obtained some repose for her own nerves. But she could no longer affect
a cordial reconciliation; caresses left her cold, and Widdowson saw
that his company was never so agreeable to her as solitude. When they
sat together, both were reading. Monica found more attraction in books
as her life grew more unhappy. Though with reluctance Widdowson had
consented to a subscription at Mudie's, and from the new catalogues she
either chose for herself, necessarily at random, or by the advice of
better-read people, such as she met at Mrs. Cosgrove's. What modern
teaching was to be got from these volumes her mind readily absorbed.
She sought for opinions and arguments which were congenial to her mood
of discontent, all but of revolt.

Sometimes the perusal of a love-s