e hoped I would let him tell me what was in his
heart; that for months he had known but one real wish, one real
aspiration--to win me for his wife. He begged me to let him begin anew,
and make an effort to attain this great end.

That evening, in the gloaming, I was at my study window. I could look
into the parlor of the Thrush home. A shadow had fallen upon that dear
nest; one of the little birdies had flown away, but it was now forever
sheltered from all storms in the dear Christ's bosom, so all was well.
The gentle little mother was nearly crushed at first, even more so than
the father, though he felt the loss deeply; but erelong she lifted her
sweet face, and smiled through her tears. And now, at the end of two
weeks, she was to her husband, at least, as cheerful as ever, even more
tender, and she made the home as bright as before. So many women are
selfish in their grief, unwise too. They act as if their husbands were
aliens, and did not share the sorrow. It is true the man usually
recovers sooner than the woman from such a blow, but no one should blame
him for that. His nature is different, necessarily different; not in
kind, but in degree. It has to be; his is the outside battle; he must
needs be rugged. But "a man's a man for a' that," and the woman who
shuts him out in the hour of bereavement, or who darkens the home
continuously, and overcasts its good cheer, is both selfish and foolish.
In such cases husband and wife are parted, instead of being brought
nearer to one another, as they should be when they have a little
ambassador in the court of Heaven.

My heart was very tender that evening, and as I sat beside the glowing
fire, before the lamps were lighted, my thoughts ran to Mrs. Purblind.
The poor little woman had seemed sad of late, and I guessed, without
word from her, that it was because her husband was going out so much at
night. I did wish she could see some things as they really were.

She sat there with me that evening--in spirit, at least, on the opposite
side of the fireplace, and her mournful face touched me deeply.

"He doesn't seem to care for his home," she said sadly.

"Make him care for it. Man is a domestic animal. If he doesn't stay at
home, something is wrong."

"I do all I can," she answered in a dull tone.

"No doubt you do now," I said; "but learn more, and then you will
improve."

"I was looking over some trunks in the attic to-day, and I came across
my wedding gown. It calle