ce of an assassin, and was haunted
by a vague sense of enormous wickedness.

It was two or three hours past midnight when I got home. I found my
aunt, in our house, sitting up for me.

'Is anything the matter, aunt?' said I, alarmed.

'Nothing, Trot,' she replied. 'Sit down, sit down. Little Blossom has
been rather out of spirits, and I have been keeping her company. That's
all.'

I leaned my head upon my hand; and felt more sorry and downcast, as I
sat looking at the fire, than I could have supposed possible so soon
after the fulfilment of my brightest hopes. As I sat thinking, I
happened to meet my aunt's eyes, which were resting on my face. There
was an anxious expression in them, but it cleared directly.

'I assure you, aunt,' said I, 'I have been quite unhappy myself all
night, to think of Dora's being so. But I had no other intention than to
speak to her tenderly and lovingly about our home-affairs.'

MY aunt nodded encouragement.

'You must have patience, Trot,' said she.

'Of course. Heaven knows I don't mean to be unreasonable, aunt!'

'No, no,' said my aunt. 'But Little Blossom is a very tender little
blossom, and the wind must be gentle with her.'

I thanked my good aunt, in my heart, for her tenderness towards my wife;
and I was sure that she knew I did.

'Don't you think, aunt,' said I, after some further contemplation of the
fire, 'that you could advise and counsel Dora a little, for our mutual
advantage, now and then?'

'Trot,' returned my aunt, with some emotion, 'no! Don't ask me such a
thing.'

Her tone was so very earnest that I raised my eyes in surprise.

'I look back on my life, child,' said my aunt, 'and I think of some who
are in their graves, with whom I might have been on kinder terms. If I
judged harshly of other people's mistakes in marriage, it may have been
because I had bitter reason to judge harshly of my own. Let that pass. I
have been a grumpy, frumpy, wayward sort of a woman, a good many years.
I am still, and I always shall be. But you and I have done one another
some good, Trot,--at all events, you have done me good, my dear; and
division must not come between us, at this time of day.'

'Division between us!' cried I.

'Child, child!' said my aunt, smoothing her dress, 'how soon it might
come between us, or how unhappy I might make our Little Blossom, if I
meddled in anything, a prophet couldn't say. I want our pet to like me,
and be as gay as a butterfly. Remembe