her soul.

She wrote and wrote and wrote, her heart was warm, her eyes filled with
tears, the words glowed upon her page, life became bright, the moments
flew. An hour and a half passed. Her husband's tea-time came; he had
such delight in coming home at this hour to find his wife and his
children all assembled round the tea-table in the family room. It very
rarely happened that Elise had not all in readiness for him; but now the
striking of seven o'clock roused her suddenly from her writing; she laid
down her pen, and was in the act of rising when her husband entered.

A strong expression of displeasure diffused itself over his countenance
as he saw her occupation.

"You gave us to-day a very bad dinner, Elise," said he, going up to her
and speaking with severity; "but when this novel-writing occupies so
much of your time, it is no wonder that you neglect your domestic
duties; you get to care really just as little about these, as you
trouble yourself about my wishes."

It would have been easy for Elise to excuse herself, and make all right
and straight; but the severe tone in which her husband spoke, and his
scornful glance, wounded her deeply. "You must have patience with me,
Ernst," said she, not without pride and some degree of vexation; "I am
not accustomed to renounce all innocent pleasures; my education, my
earlier connexions, have not prepared me for this."

This was like pricking the Judge in the eye, and with more bitterness
and severity than usual he replied:

"You should have thought about that before you gave me your hand; before
you had descended into so humble and care-full a circle. It is too late
now. Now I will----" but he did not finish his sentence, for he himself
perceived a storm rising within him, before which he yielded. He went to
the door, opened it, and said in a calm voice, yet still with an
agitated tone and glance, "I would just tell you that I have taken
tickets for the concert to-morrow, if you would wish to go. I hoped to
have found you at the tea-table; but I see that is not at all thought
of--it is just as desolate and deserted there as if the plague were in
the house. Don't give yourself any trouble, I shall drink my tea at the
club!" and thus saying he banged the door and went away.

Elise seated herself--she really could not stand--and hid her face in
her trembling hands. "Good heavens! is it come to this? Ernst, Ernst!
What words! what looks! And I, wretched being, what hav