tions and their
praises of his wife. But the impressive scenes he had been forecasting
were out of the question. There was a little curiosity about her on
the part of those who knew her story, and that was all. Sheila bore
herself very well. She made no blunders. She had a good presence, she
sang well, and every one could see that she was handsome, gentle and
honest. Surely, he argued with himself, that ought to content the most
exacting. But, in spite of all argument, he was not content. He did
not regret that he had sacrificed his liberty in a freak of romance;
he did not even regard the fact of a man in his position having dared
to marry a penniless girl as anything very meritorious or heroic; but
he had hoped that the dramatic circumstances of the case would be
duly recognized by his friends, and that Sheila would be an object of
interest and wonder and talk in a whole series of social circles. But
the result of his adventure was different. There was only one married
man the more in London, and London was not disposed to pay any
particular heed to that circumstance.

CHAPTER XIII.

BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON.

If Frank Lavender had been told that his love for his wife was in
danger of waning, he would have laughed the suggestion to scorn. He
was as fond of her and as proud of her as ever. Who knew as well as
himself the tenderness of her heart, the delicate sensitiveness of her
conscience, the generosity of self-sacrifice she was always ready to
bestow? and was he likely to become blind, so that he should fail to
see how fair and frank and handsome she was? He had been disappointed,
it is true, in his fancies about the impression she would produce on
his friends; but what a trifle was that! The folly of those fancies
was his own. For the rest, he was glad that Sheila was not so
different from the other women whom he knew. He hit upon the profound
reflection, as he sat alone in his studio, that a man's wife, like
his costume, should not be so remarkable as to attract attention.
The perfection of dress was that you should be unconscious of its
presence: might that not be so with marriage? After all, it was better
that he had not bound himself to lug about a lion whenever he visited
people's houses.

Still, there was something. He found himself a good deal alone. Sheila
did not seem to care much for going into society; and although he did
not much like the notion of going by himself, nevertheless one had
ce