ated Agatha into various arcana belonging to motherhood and
mistress-of-a-family-hood. The other listened eagerly, so eagerly that
she could have laughed at herself, remembering what she was six months
before. To think that to-morrow she must begin her house-keeping--she,
who knew no more of such things than a child! She snatched at all sorts
of knowledge, talked over butchers, and bakers, and house expenses, and
Kingcombe ways of marketing, taking an interest in the most commonplace
things. For pervading everything was the consciousness, "It is _his_
home I have to make comfortable." That thought sanctified and beautified
all.

"You are quite right, my dear," said Harrie, pausing in her walk up and
down, patting and singing to Baby, who stared with open eyes over her
shoulder, and obstinately declined going to sleep. "You will turn out a
notable woman, I see. It's a curious and melancholy fact, which we don't
ever learn till we are married, that all the love in the world is thrown
away upon a man unless you make him comfortable at home. A neat house
and a creditable dinner every day go more to his heart than all the
sentimental devotion you can give. It's all very well for a man in love
to live upon roses and posies, and kisses and blisses, but after he is
married he dearly likes to be comfortable."

Agatha was silent for a moment, hardly venturing to believe, and yet
afraid she must. "I heard Miss Valery once say that no man's love after
marriage is exactly as it was before it; that the thing attained soon
loses its preciousness, and that the wife has to assume a new character,
and win another kind of love. I wonder if this is true. I wonder"--and
suddenly she changed her seriousness for the tone of raillery she always
used with Harrie Dugdaie--"I wonder whether our husbands adore us first,
and afterwards expect us to adore them."

"So they do; I assure you they do! And a pretty amount of adoring
and waiting upon your husband will require. I wouldn't for the whole
universe have my Duke such an awfully exacting, particular, provoking,
disagreeably good, or inexplicably naughty animal as my brother
Nathanael."

"Mrs. Dugdaie!" Agatha hardly knew whether to laugh or to be indignant.
She only knew that she felt ready to spring up like a chained tigress
when anybody said a word against Mr. Harper.

"There now, don't waken the baby. Keep yourself quiet, do. See, there's
its husband coming down the street to comfort it.