er second husband was doing all things possible
to prove his sincerity and devotion. She had never been completely
happy in this second marriage. There had always been a flavour of
remorse mingled with her cup of joy; the vague consciousness that she
had done a foolish thing, and that the world--her little world within a
radius of twenty miles--was secretly laughing at her.

"Do you remember the day we came home from our honeymoon, Conrad," she
said to her husband, as he sat by her in the dusk one evening, sad and
silent, "when there was no carriage to meet us, and we had to come home
in a fly? It was an omen, was it not?"

"An omen of what, dearest?"

"That all things were not to go well with us in our married life; that
we were not to be quite happy."

"Have you not been happy, Pamela? I have tried honestly to do my duty
to you."

"I know you have, Conrad. You have been all goodness; I always have
said so to Violet--and to everyone. But I have had my cares. I felt
that I was too old for you. That has preyed upon my mind."

"Was that reasonable, Pamela, when I have never felt it?"

"Perhaps not at first; and even if you had felt the disparity in our
ages you would have been too generous to let me perceive the change in
your feelings. But I should have grown an old woman while you were
still a young man. It would have been too dreadful. Indeed, dear, it is
better as it is. Providence is very good to me."

"Providence is not very good to me, in taking you from me," said the
Captain, with a touch of bitterness.

It seemed to him passing selfish in his wife to be so resigned to
leaving life, and so oblivious of the fact that her income died with
her, and that he was to be left out in the cold. One evening, however,
when they were sitting alone together, this fact presented itself
suddenly to her mind.

"You will lose the Abbey House when I am gone, Conrad."

"My love, do you think I could live in this house without you?"

"And my income, Conrad; that dies with me, does it not?"

"Yes, love."

"That is hard for you."

"I can bear that, Pamela, if I am to bear the loss of you."

"Dearest love, you have always been disinterested. How could I ever
doubt you? Perhaps--indeed I am sure--if I were to ask Violet, she
would give you the fifteen hundred a year that I was to have had after
she came of age."

"Pamela, I could not accept any favour from your daughter. You would
deeply offend me if you were to sugg