had made great strides; the
gentleman's had apparently retrograded.

Now we all need a little excitement, and we all seek it, and get it by
hook or by crook. The girl who satisfies that natural craving with what
the canting dunces of the day call a "sensational" novel, and the girl
who does it by waltzing till daybreak, are sisters; only one obtains the
result intellectually, and the other obtains it like a young animal, and
a pain in her empty head next day.

Mrs. Gaunt could enjoy company, but was never dull with a good book. Mr.
Gaunt was a pleasant companion, but dull out of company. So, rather than
not have it, he would go to the parlor of the "Red Lion," and chat and
sing with the yeomen and rollicking young squires that resorted thither:
and this was matter of grief and astonishment to Mrs. Gaunt.

It was balanced by good qualities she knew how to appreciate. Morals
were much looser then than now; and more than one wife of her
acquaintance had a rival in the village, or even among her own
domestics; but Griffith had no loose inclinations of that kind, and
never gave her a moment's uneasiness. He was constancy and fidelity in
person.

Sobriety had not yet been invented. But Griffith was not so intemperate
as most squires; he could always mount the stairs to tea, and generally
without staggering.

He was uxorious, and it used to come out after his wine. This Mrs. Gaunt
permitted at first, but by and by says she, expanding her delicate
nostrils: "You may be as affectionate as you please, dear, and you may
smell of wine, if you will; but please not to smell of wine and be
affectionate at the same moment. I value your affection too highly to
let you disgust me with it."

And the model husband yielded to this severe restriction; and, as it
never occurred to him to give up his wine, he forbore to be affectionate
in his cups.

One great fear Mrs. Gaunt had entertained before marriage ceased to
haunt her. Now and then her quick eye saw Griffith writhe at the great
influence her director had with her; but he never spoke out to offend
her, and she, like a good wife, saw, smiled, and adroitly, tenderly
soothed: and this was nothing compared to what she had feared.

Griffith saw his wife admired by other men, yet never chid nor chafed.
The merit of this belonged in a high degree to herself. The fact is,
that Kate Peyton, even before marriage, was not a coquette at heart,
though her conduct might easily bear that con