intended preparations for Kenelm's return were made; and I-was I fit to meet him? I pressed my hand upon my brow; unwittingly I displaced the plaster upon my wound, from which the blood began again to trickle.

I would have given years of life to recall one hour then.

I heard the garden gate. I saw Kenelm come up the path, and still I could not move.

The room door opened and admitted my husband.

He paused in sad amazement. His face was like the face I had seen in my vision, which now vividly returned to me. I tried to believe this was a vision too. His form seemed to waver and flicker, and a black gulf opened at my feet.

Both my husband and Ann were standing over me when I regained consciousness; when I raised myself on the couch, Ann disappeared. "I am

so sorry-so grieved," I began, "I did not expect you yet. I had only just read your letter, and ""Do not talk now-rest, love. Was this just done?"

"No; I struck my head last night, and "

"My poor wounded darling!"

I had no need to make excuses. He cared for me to-night instead of I for him, yet he looked very travelworn and ill. He dressed my wound with tender fingers, and said many tender words. But he looked very sad, and I could not bear to meet his inquiring gaze. I closed my eyes and felt myself a wretched little hypocrite. I passionately vowed never again to have a secret from Kenelm. My husband made me go to bed early. He read to me till he thought I was asleep; then I knew that he prayed by me before he went away. How I longed to clasp him round the neck and tell him all my secret, but I was afraid and ashamed.

When I had heard him go down stairs and shut the parlour-door behind him, I sprang up. My Bluebeard chamber was unlocked; all my papers lay about the floor!

I secured the key, but, as I got into bed again, it fell from my trembling fingers. I regained it. The noise had disturbed Kenelm. I heard him coming, and buried my face in

my pillow. As I clasped the key I renewed my fervent vows never again to have a secret.

Next day I noticed that my husband seemed very, very sad. His mediation had only availed to draw more of his father's anger upon himself-he had been of no service to his brother.

When we had talked over this and some other family matters, silence fell. I felt afraid of what might come next, for Kenelm's eyes watched me earnestly.

"Minnie, my wife, it is you who want change now," he said presently. "You look ill, and you must be very weak to have been so much disturbed as you were yesterday, merely by my sudden arrival. Would you like to go home for a little while?"

"Oh Kenelm! so much!" I know that my face kindled brightly; for indeed I longed after them all, and thought that it would be a delicious rest to be at home with him.

"Poor child! I thought you would like it. So you have pined for home, Minnie?"

"You shall not say that. This is my home. I will not go to my father's if you say such things."

"Well! well! do not believe I reproach you, darling; we will part in peace.' "Part?"

"I thing it will be as well that you should go soon; for a few weeks I must work very hard, and shall be even duller company than ever."

"Do you think I will go home alone? Oh, Kenelm! what does this mean?"

"That is what I cannot tell," he said. "But I know that you are neither well nor happy; I know that our poverty has pressed its privations upon you; I know that you pine in your dull life here—”

"What more do you know?" I asked defiantly.

He answered with mild, even-toned voice, but absolutely hurting me by the urgent pressure of his gaze, "I know that in some sad way-by my own fault, it may be-I have lost my wife's confidence; I also know that this is not one of the things I will learn to do without."

"What more, sir?" I demanded

hotly.

"This is all. When you are at home, Minnie, and I am alone again for a little while, we may each be able to find out in what, and how far, we have erred, and then be able to begin our married life afresh."

He spoke as if such serious danger impended, as if such utter ruin threatened our peace, that I shuddered; but he spoke, too, as if he forgot all the happy, happy months when I had been a devoted and contented wife, and only remembered the last few weeks-this made me angry; it was unjust! he was exaggerating everything!

"I will not go home unless you command me, and I am your wife, whom you have no right to send away; you are cruel and unjust!"

"Am I so? We were not talking of rights; I was planning for your happiness; but indeed I work in the dark. I do not see why you should call me cruel and unjust. Again I repeat, I do not stoop to suspect you of wrong; your having a secret from me, and the obstinacy with which you keep it, is my only ground of displeasure. It may be that my own character is alone to blame; that I am too stern; but I have hoped that my wife loved me too well to fear me.'

"She does! Oh, Kenelm, she does!" I sprang after him as he turned sadly away. But then my looks belied my words; the key of the Blue-beard chamber fell from my dress, and I stopped, the picture of guilty confusion.

He picked it up. "This is not the first time you have let it fall," he said, as he gave it me.

Then he knew that my last night's sleep had been feigned. It hardened my heart to think how deceitful he must believe me to be, and to remember the innocent, holy motive of all this long concealment.

Kenelm went to his study, as I imagined, shutting himself in there for the morning.

I felt utterly reckless. Unknown to myself, a desire for revenge was beginning to mingle with the other motives that determined me to persevere to the end. I thought that the lower I now sank in my husband's esteem the higher should I rise by-and-by when he knew all, when my hour of triumph came.

Once more I locked myself into the empty room. I packed up my manuscript, addressed it to my friend, and wrote a note to accompany it, passionately entreating her to let me hear soon-to do everything quickly. Then I put on my bonnet and shawl, hid my precious roll under my arm, and set off for the post-office.

As I walked hurriedly along beneath the limes in our lane, and then through suburban streets, my thoughts were quite engrossed in planning for the disposal of the fairy fortune my book was to bring me. Suddenly I swerved aside and turned a sharp corner; in another moment I . should have met my husband, whom I had believed to be safe at home. Had he seen me? I thought not. I had disappeared before the abstraction of his look had cleared to recognition.

I made a little circuit-accomplished my purpose, and turned homewards.

My heart sank when I saw my husband pacing up and down beneath the limes. He had seen me, then, and was now waiting for me. The limes were in full blossom; their scent now always takes me back to that afternoon.

When I met Kenelm's eyes, and noted the pinched expression which repressed excitement had given to lip and nostril, I braced myself up for my last and worst ordeal.

He did not speak. He locked my hand under his arm, taking me into custody. He led me into the house, seated me in a chair in his study, then released my hand, and stood opposite to me. I noticed that the hand he leant upon the table quiv ered. I was sorry; I feared he would do himself harm; but when I raised my eyes to his, his air of judicial sternness had a strange effect upon my nerves. I laughed uncontrollably. Just think how that laugh must have broken upon his highly-wrought excitement and grievous distress!

I fancy that any man less noble than my husband would have struck me. There was intense pain and anger in his eyes-still I laughed my insulting, unnatural laugh. He left me. I chose to believe that he had locked the door; I would not go to ascertain. I ceased laughing, and

grew very indignant. I, Kenelm's wife, to be treated like a naughty child! Very bitterly would he repent his injustice! Then, as I loved him, my heart grew tender at the thought of the pain he would feel when my hour of triumph came. For the first time I doubted of the possibility of this triumph. I could not rejoice if he suffered. We were one.

I threw myself on the ground, rested my head on Kenelm's footstool, and cried myself to sleep. I suppose I was thoroughly worn out. I must have slept many hours. It was dusk when the opening of the hall door and my husband's step in the passage roused me. I heard him enter every room in the house before he came into the study; this, and my not detecting the sound of the turning of a key, staggered me in my belief that I had been locked in; but I would not think that I had been a voluntary prisoner all this while.

My husband could not see me when he entered. He peered about, then hastened to the open window. "Good God! She has jumped out!" he cried.

"I am here, Kenelm!" I said, rising.

"You have been here all the time I have been away?"

"I believe I fell asleep." "Tea is waiting in the parlourwill you make it?"

I followed him. I noticed upon how haggard a face the lamp shone; but his manner was cold and repressed tenderness. He broke a painful silence by saying:

"Mary! I have made arrangements for your going home tomorrow."

An angry refusal to go rose to my lips. I repressed it, and said nothing. "Your eldest sister passes through London on her way home from Kent to-morrow. I shall take you to the station to meet her. I have written to her and to your father. Your health requires change of air."

"It is well you should let me know on what plea you send me away."

"The scene of this afternoon taught me that we cannot live together, feeling as we now do towards each other. I will not risk again feeling towards my wife as I did when you laughed

"Am I harsh, Minnie? then I shall indeed repent. I strive to be calm and just, only to act for your good.” Oh, you are very calm; you will be happy without me, quite! But you are most unjust!"

"I repeat again, Mary, that I suspect you of no wrong. Your want of confidence has irritated me. When I am alone I hope to see clearly how I lost your confidence, and how I can regain it. If you were reasonable, you would own that it is best for us to part for a little while."

I am very reasonable! It is best!" I answered; and I know my eyes shone gleefully, for I had jumped over dismal weeks, and was thinking of our joyful meeting. He left me abruptly.

My heart was ready to break when next day I was whirled away from my husband, who stood on the platform gazing after us. Regardless of all lookers-on, I gave way to a great burst of weeping, hiding my face on my sister's shoulder.

My time at home was chiefly spent in wandering about the garden, orchard, and fields, recalling past courting-days, and dreaming over my coming triumph.

They were all very kind to me, petting me as they had been used to do; but I liked best to be much alone, to think uninterruptedly of Kenelm. Several times he came to spend an hour or two with us; he rejoiced at my improved looks, but neither of us said anything of my return.

My friend had written to me in most fervent praise of my book. She was working at it diligently-was to write a preface for it, and had made favourable arrangements for its publication.

Time slipped away rapidly. My husband's visits were the only events of my life, which passed in dull dreaminess. I suppose nature was

avenging herself for the excitement in which I had lived for so long.

At last my book was ready, and I received, through my friend, what I considered a very large sum, as part payment for the work.

My family had reason to think me suddenly demented. Home, home, home! I cried. I insisted on departing the very morning on which I received my friend's letter, only promising to give them an explanation of my strange conduct before long.

Completely roused from my torpidity now, my longing for Kenelm and home was intense. I would travel alone, too; I had planned a meeting of which I could endure no witness.

Leaving my luggage at the station, I walked homewards across wellknown fields. But the nearer I approached, the more my courage failed me. It was bright early afternoon; but there seemed to me something eerie in the wind that swept the sunsteeped fields. If Kenelm should be ill!

I paused at the garden gate; the parlour blind was down; I saw no sign of life about the house. I paused longer yet before I could bring myself to open the house door.

My heart stood still when I knocked at the door of my husband's study; then it beat again so violently that I lost the sound of his listless "come in." I waited. A slow heavy step crossed the room-the door opened my husband stood before me.

"Minnie! my darling! Come back to me of her own accord?" He opened his arms wide. I did not spring to him. I had lost all buoyancy of spirit now-all expectation of rapture. Triumph indeed! In what? In the sorrow-stricken, weighed-down aspect of my husband?

"Yes, Kenelm, I am come back," I answered soberly. I stood before him, feeling very guilty and ashamed. "You must hear all now," I continued. "It was for this." I put a bundle of bank-notes into his hand. "My child, I do not understand." He turned them over with a perplexed air.

ing had planned that I should be clasped in his arms, and hear his exclamations of delight and gratitude, he still did not seem quite to understand. Presently he dropped the notes and hid his face.

I shivered. Where was my beautiful triumph? I had suffered and made him suffer so much-for what?

I sank down at his feet-I laid my cheek against him, and said, Kenelm, was I very wrong? Cannot you forgive me?"

66

"Minnie! I shall never forgive myself." He raised me up, and kissed me many times. "This is the pain of poverty indeed; that for these, or such as these, you should suffer as you have done. My darling! how could you do it? How could you endure so long? How could you let me treat you so sternly? Dearest! these were not worth your pain!"

I saw it clearly now: I had burdened him with remorse, overwhelmed him with self-reproach! I, his wife, had irreparably injured him. And when I prayed for forgiveness, he only begged me to forgive him!

With those notes, for which I had worked and endured, lying at our feet, we made a new marriage-compact of mutual confidence and forbearance.

Ah! but I did earn a holiday for Kenelm! I was very ill after that evening of my "triumph." When I grew better, my husband took me to a beautiful little nook by the seaside; there we had a sweet long rest from all the weariness of our world.

I do not think that Kenelm understood his little wife's nature the less for having read her book; and, when he had grown accustomed to the marvellous fact of its existence, I even fancied that I sometimes detected just a little lurking pride in his eyes and about the corners of his mouth, when people, in our presence, spoke of "A Wife's Secret." At such times I only cared to hide my confusion. Even now, after the lapse of so many many years, I felt a burning flush upon my face the other day, when I suddenly came upon a heap of newspapers and reviews which Kenelm had accumulated, and in them, read the name of my book.

MR. EBONY,-Will you, out of your infinite kindness, indulge a poor bewildered individual with the space of a few columns, whilst, in plain language and with an earnest spirit, he narrates the cause of his perplexity? I am very much in the situation of Mrs. Beecher Stowe's favourite hero, the lost nigger-owning no master, pertaining to no tribe, but claimed by half-a-dozen fellows with whips, each of whom swears that he is entitled to clap me into the bilboes, and to sell me at the nearest market. So, like the pattern Sambo of the aforesaid Mrs. Beecher, I find myself wandering in a dreary political swamp, with no pleasanter prospect than the cane-brakes and mudbanks where the alligators roll in dalliance; and around me are a good many unfortunate people in the like predicament with myself.

Pardon this somewhat enigmatical or metaphorical preface. I shall try to express myself more clearly. I ain a Liberal born and bred; that is, my respected sire was a very strong adherent of the Liberal party about the time of the passing of the Reform Bill. He was a citizen of a town of some importance in the north of England, wherein he drove a reputable trade as a merchant in a small way, dealing in such wares as tape, bird-seed, hosiery, tobacco-pipes, potatoes, and sugar-candy. He attended regularly the meetings of the Political Union, though I am not aware that he ever made a personal attempt at oratory; and he carefully instilled into my youthful mind a cordial hatred of what were, or were supposed to be, the principles of the British Constitution. According to him, the Established Church was a malignant cancer eating out the vitals of the people; the House of Peers an assemblage of bloated aristocrats, who never met without helping themselves to the savings of the poor; nay, I can hardly venture to assert that the Crown itself did not come in for some share of the paternal objurgation. I well remember the ecstacy into which my revered

parent was thrown when the inimitable "Scion," who is still spared to us from Orcus, characterised the voice of a high estate of the realm as the "whisper of a faction." Also I recollect well the glowing eulogium which he passed upon the public spirit and intrepidity of the highminded Larkins, when that distinguished patriot and demagogue announced his opinion that, for a less offence against the liberties of the people, a fairer head than ever graced the shoulders of Queen Adelaide had ere now rolled upon the scaffold. And I have not forgotten the enthusiastic approval which he gave to the proposed popular march from Birmingham to London, although disqualified by an unfortunate fit of rheumatism from taking part in that glorious expedition. But when the great victory was won, and the Whigs were comfortably installed in office, the ardour of my progenitor began visibly to cool. He had borne the burden and heat of the day, and was certainly entitled to expect that, in the general distribution of good things, he should receive some small crumb of comfort-some stray crust

some little bone with a morsel of meat upon it-so that he might at least have a flavour of the rewards set apart for those who have served their country. But alas! the time had not come when such as he could be permitted to partake even of the refuse of the banquet. As a flock of ravens descends upon the palpitating carcass of a sheep-speeding from the east, and west, and north, and south, till not one particle of wool is visible beneath the unclean flapping of their multitudinous wings,-so stooped the Whigs upon their quarry. Not only the old, but the young ravens also, had to be gorged to the very throat, before any stray kite had license to dig at sinew or intestine; and what, I pray you, was a single sheep among so many? So, while the Elliots, and Greys, and Russells, and Phippses were tearing away like mad-swallowing gobbets so greedily that they almost stuck in their throats,