hen those eyes, blue as sapphires indeed, flashed burning with
death's own fever, from the little crib in the nursery, while with this
same cool and self-satisfied countenance, the wife and mother before him
had swept down the broad stairs to her carriage, murmuring
apologetically as she gathered up her train, "O you needn't trouble
yourself to look after her, she will do very well with Sarah."

She may have thought of it too, for the least little bit of real crimson
found its way through the rouge on her cheek as she encountered the
stern look of his eye, but she only turned a trifle more towards the
glass, saying, "I forgot you do not admire the role of waiting maid. I
will try and manage them myself, seeing that you have banished Sarah."

He exerted his self-control and again for the thousandth time buried
that ghastly memory out of sight, actually forcing himself to smile as
he gently took her hand from her ear and began deftly to fasten the
rebellious ornaments.

"You mistake," said he, "love can ask any favor without hesitation. I do
not object to waiting upon my own wife."

She gave him a little look which he obligingly took as a guerdon for
this speech, and languidly held out her bracelets. As he stood clasping
them on her arms, she quietly eyed him over from head to foot. "I don't
know of a man who has your figure," said she with a certain tone of
pride in her voice; "it is well you married a wife who does not look
altogether inferior beside you." Then as he bowed with mock appreciation
of the intended compliment, added with her usual inconsequence, "I dare
say it would give me something to interest myself in. I don't suppose
she has a decent thing to wear, and the fact of her being a dark beauty
would lend quite a new impulse to my inventive faculty. Mrs. Walker has
a daughter with black eyes, but dear me, what a guy she does make of
her!"

With a sigh Mr. Sylvester turned to the window where he stood looking
out at the heavy flakes of snow falling with slow and fluctuating
movement between him and the row of brown stone houses in front. Paula
considered as a milliner's block upon which to try the effect of
clothes!

"Even Mrs. Fitzgerald with all her taste don't know how to dress her
child," proceeded his wife, with a hurried, "Be still, Cherry!" to the
importunate bird in the cage. "Now I should take as much pride in
dressing any one under my charge as I would myself, provided the subject
was likely t