is features sinking gradually into the
rigidity they sometimes wore--a warning of how much the gentleness of
his nature could bear.

"Hear me for one minute, Agatha. I know this is hard, very hard for you.
I have prevented your living in London; I have taken a smaller house
than you like; I have restricted you in acts of charity. But for all
these things I have reasons."

"Will you tell me those reasons?" It was a tone, not of entreaty, but
of threatening--such as a man rarely hears from a woman without all the
pride within him recoiling into obstinacy.

Mr. Harper grew yet paler, though still his answer was soft--"Agatha, do
not ask me. I cannot tell you."

"You dare not! You are ashamed!"

He walked away from her. When he returned, it was less the lover that
spoke than the man. "I am not ashamed of anything I do, and I have clear
motives for all. I only desire my wife to have patience for awhile, and
trust her husband."

"I trust my husband!" she cried, in violent passion--"When he acts
outrageously, unjustly, insultingly--binds me hand and foot like a
child, and then smiles and tells me 'to be patient!' When he has secrets
from me--when, for all I know, his whole conduct may have been one long
deceit towards me."

"Take care, Agatha." The words were said between his teeth, and then the
lips closed in that strong straight line which made his face look all
iron.

"I say it may have been--I have heard of such things"--and she laughed
fearfully at the horrible thought a tempting devil was putting into her
mind--"I have heard of young girls--poor desolate creatures, cursed
with riches, and having no one to guard them--of some stranger coming
and marrying them hastily, but not for love--oh, not for love!" And her
laughter grew absolutely frightful in its mockery. "How do I know but
that you thus married me?"

Her wild eyes fixed themselves on her husband. She saw his face change
to very ghastliness, and guilt itself could not have trembled more than
the shudder which ran through his frame.

"I was right," she gasped, her passion subdued into cold horror--"you
did marry me for my money!"

No answer--not a breath--only an incredulous stare. Once more Agatha's
passion rose, a sea of wrath, misery, despair, that dashed her blindly
on, she recked not where.

"I see it all now--all your wickedness. You never loved me, you only
loved my riches. You have them now, and so you can stand there and gaze
at me, as hard