itting middle age, throwing a kind of apostolic
grace over the high, half-bald crown, and touching with a softened grey
the still curly locks behind. But these were mere accidents; the true
dignity lay in himself and his own personal character, independent of
any exterior.

It was pleasant to watch him, and note how advancing years had given
rather than taken away from his outward mien. As ever, he was
distinguishable from other men, even to his dress--which had something
of the Quaker about it still, in its sober colour, its rarely-changed
fashion, and its exceeding neatness. Mrs. Halifax used now and then to
laugh at him for being so particular over his daintiest of cambric and
finest of lawn--but secretly she took the greatest pride in his
appearance.

"John looks well to-night," she said, coming in and sitting down by me,
her eyes following mine. One would not have guessed from her quiet
gaze that she knew--what John had told me she knew, this morning. But
these two in their perfect union had a wonderful strength--a wonderful
fearlessness. And she had learned from him--what perhaps originally
was foreign to her impressible and somewhat anxious mind--that
steadfast faith, which, while ready to meet every ill when the time
comes, until the time waits cheerfully, and will not disquiet itself in
vain.

Thus, for all their cares, her face as well as his, was calm and
bright. Bright, even with the prettiest girlish blush, when John came
up to his wife and admired her--as indeed was not surprising.

She laughed at him, and declared she always intended to grow lovely in
her old age. "I thought I ought to dress myself grandly, too, on Guy's
birthday. Do you like me, John?"

"Very much: I like that black velvet gown, substantial, soft, and
rich, without any show. And that lace frill round your throat--what
sort of lace is it?"

"Valenciennes. When I was a girl, if I had a weakness it was for black
velvet and Valenciennes."

John smiled, with visible pleasure that she had even a "weakness"
gratified now. "And you have put on my brooch at last, I see."

"Yes; but--" and she shook her head--"remember your promise!"

"Phineas, this wife of mine is a vain woman. She knows her own price
is 'far above rubies'--or diamonds either. No, Mrs. Halifax, be not
afraid; I shall give you no more jewels."

She did not need them. She stood amidst her three sons with the smile
of a Cornelia. She felt her husband's