ousness.

He recalled the gentle questions he was always too busy to answer, till
they troubled him no more; and the silent reproach of her quivering lips
when he blamed her for some little household error. And, though he
believed that his training had made her useful and independent, he
remembered, with a pang of remorse, many occasions on which an
affectionate word of appreciation had hovered on his tongue, and
wondered what foolish pride or reserve had made him hesitate and choke
it down, when he knew what it meant to her. Birthdays, and all those
little anniversaries which stand out clearly on the calendar of a
woman's heart, he had forgotten, or remembered only when the time for
wishes and kisses was over. Yet he had never reproached himself for this
before. But to-day he had seen enough to understand something of the
responsibility that rested on her, the ignorance of the servants, the
healthy, clamouring children, who would only obey _her_, and the hundred
and one daily incidents that would have worried him into a frenzy, but
which only left her serene and patient, and anxious to do her duty. The
poor wan face had grown lovely to him, and the lines on her forehead
spoke with an eloquence beyond the most passionate appeal for sympathy
that she could have uttered--what would the house be without her? What
if he were going to lose her? His heart was shaken by a terrible fear as
he sat up with misty eyes, and, brokenly uttering her name, held out his
arms imploringly.

_Oh! God, if she should never wake again!_.... But she answered him,
breathlessly, waking from a wonderful dream, in which she saw him
wandering afar through a fragrant garden, that she longed to enter--then
as she wept, despairingly hiding her face in her hands, she heard him
calling her, first softly, then louder--and louder--

And the garden faded away.

But the dawn found her sobbing out years of loneliness on her husband's
breast.

_Memoirs of a Female Nihilist._

BY SOPHIE WASSILIEFF.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. ST. M. FITZ-GERALD.

-----

III.--ONE DAY.

[Illustration: "AT BREAKFAST."]

Eight o'clock in the morning. I am taking my tea while idly turning over
the leaves of a book, when the noise of an explosion causes me to
suddenly raise my head. Explosions are not of rare occurrence at the
fortress of X----, of which the outer wall encloses several hundred
barrack rooms and places where the garrison are exercised,