and the rosary. Not on his wedding-day, anyway."

I was hot in my absurd embarrassment, and I dare say my face was
scarlet, but Aunt Bridget showed me no mercy.

"The way you have behaved is too silly for anything. . . . It really is.
A husband's a husband, and a wife's a wife. The wife has to obey her
husband. Of course she has. Every wife has to. Some don't like it. I
can't say that I liked it very much myself. But to think of anybody
objecting. Why, it's shocking! Nobody ever heard of such a thing."

I must have flushed up to my forehead, for I became conscious that in my
Aunt Bridget's eyes there had been a kind of indecency in my conduct.

"But, come," she said, "we must be sensible. It's timidity, that's what
it is. I was a little timid myself when I was first married, but I soon
got over it. Once get over your timidity and you will be all right.
Sakes alive, yes, you'll be as happy as the day is long, and before this
time to-morrow you'll wonder what on earth you made all this fuss
about."

I tried to say that what she predicted could never be, because I did not
love my husband, and therefore . . . but my Aunt Bridget broke in on me,
saying:

"Mary O'Neill, don't be a fool. Your maiden days are over now, and you
ought to know what your husband will do if you persist."

I jumped at the thought that she meant he would annul our marriage, but
that was not what she was thinking of.

"He'll find somebody else--that's what he'll do. Serve you right, too.
You'll only have yourself to blame for it. Perhaps you think you'll be
able to do the same, but you won't. Women can't. He'll be happy enough,
and you'll be the only one to suffer, so don't make a fool of yourself.
Accept the situation. You may not like your husband too much. I can't
say I liked the Colonel particularly. He took snuff, and no woman in the
world could keep him in clean pocket handkerchiefs. But when a sensible
person has got something at stake, she puts up with things. And that's
what you must do. He who wants fresh eggs must raise his own chickens,
you know."

Aunt Bridget ran on for some time longer, telling me of my father's
anger, which was not a matter for much surprise, seeing how he had built
himself upon my marriage, and how he had expected that I should have a
child, a son, to carry on the family.

"Do you mean to disappoint him after all he has done for you? It would
be too silly, too stupid. You'd be the laughing-stock of the whol