ent. I can call again some time next week, if you
desire it."

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Burton, "come again, when I am feeling better.
This pressure on my brain will be relieved. Hush! do not say more, the
servant will hear you. I am watched, and have no liberty to speak of my
troubles without watching my opportunity. Good-bye, now, you can leave
the basket until you come again, when I will remunerate you
sufficiently."

"The woman must be insane; do you not think so, Ulrica?" asked Clemence
of her friend, after she had concluded a narrative of her interview.

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Hardyng, doubtingly. "It looks like it, her talking
about being watched, but I am of the opinion that a jealous, passionate
temper has more to do with these paroxysms than anything else. She has
always had the name of ruling her husband, and her scowling, swarthy
visage, and evil-looking eyes, seem to substantiate her claim to
possessing strong, vixenish proclivities. I fancy they are quite well
matched, however, and that clouds in their domestic horizon are of every
day occurrence. Neither should I at all relish the idea of being taken
into the lady's confidence, for after they have got over their quarrel,
they will be apt to lay the blame upon a convenient third, and I should
not covet the distinction."

"Well, I have only once more to go," said Clemence, "and shall take care
to be guarded in my remarks."

Which resolution was followed to the letter, when she found herself
again in Mrs. Burton's parlor. The lady was cool and dignified when they
met, but soon relapsed into a tearful state. Clemence was again forced
to listen patiently to a long recital of Mr. Burton's shortcomings and
disagreeable qualities, both of a positive and negative order, and felt
sure before it came to an end, that she was much better acquainted with
the dark side of that gentleman's character than she cared to be.

Her position was a delicate one. Somehow, she could not help thinking,
as she looked at the face before her, that, arrayed in its pleasantest
smiles, it could, by the barest possibility, be only passable, and now
looked really hideous in its disgusting and futile rage. Really, if
there could be any excuse for such domestic infidelities as had been
pictured so graphically, Mr. Burton certainly ought to have the benefit
of them, for he seemed to be almost as much "sinned against as sinning."

As soon as she could get away without positive rudeness, she