ys enjoy themselves in company--apart from their
wives, of course.' I would sometimes oppose to this a sentiment
palliative of her husband; as, that, in company, a man very
naturally wished to add his mite to the general joyousness, or
something of a like nature. But it only excited her, and drew forth
remarks that shocked my feelings. Up to this day, they do not appear
to be on any better terms. Then, there is Frances Glenn--married
only three months, and as fond of carping at her husband for his
arbitrary, domineering spirit, as is Mrs. Stacy. I could name two or
three others, who have been married, some a shorter and some a
longer period, that do not seem to be united by any closer bonds.

"It is the condition of these young friends, aunt, that causes me to
feel serious. I am to be married in a few weeks. Can it be possible
that my union with Henry Armour will be no happier, no more perfect
than theirs? This I cannot believe. And yet, the relation that Alice
and Frances hold to their husbands, troubles me whenever I think of
it. Henry, as far as I have been able to understand him, has strong
points in his character. From a right course of action,--or, from a
course of action that he thinks right,--no consideration, I am sure,
would turn him. I, too, have mental characteristics somewhat
similar. There is, likewise, about me, a leaven of stubbornness. I
tremble when the thought of opposition between us, upon any subject,
crosses my mind. I would rather die--so I feel about it--than ever
have a misunderstanding with my husband."

Laura ceased, and her aunt, who was, she now perceived, much
agitated, arose and left the room without speaking. The reason of
this to Laura was altogether unaccountable. Her aunt Cleaveland,
always so mild, so calm, to be thus strongly disturbed! What could
it mean? What could there be in her maidenly fears to excite the
feelings of one so good, and wise, and gentle? An hour afterwards,
and while she yet sat, sober and perplexed in mind, in the same
place where Mrs. Cleaveland had left her, a domestic came in and
said that her aunt wished to see her in her own room. Laura attended
her immediately. She found her calm and self-possessed, but paler
than usual. "Sit down beside me, dear," Mrs. Cleaveland said,
smiling faintly, as her niece came in.

"What you said this morning, Laura," she began, after a few moments,
"recalled my own early years so vividly, that I could not keep down
emotions