ence in their own judgment, so that Lord Arthur and his wife
ought to have been, in the very nature of things, a most wretched
pair. But, as it turned out, no happier couple existed in Great
Britain. Their qualities must have been complementary, for they
dovetailed into each other as few people do; and the wise persons
who had predicted the contrary were entirely thrown out in their
calculations--a fact which they speedily forgot; nor did it diminish
their faith in their own wisdom, as, indeed, how could one slight
mistake stand against an array of instances in which their predictions
had been verified to the letter?

Lord Arthur might not have the intellect which fixes the attention of
a nation, but he had plenty for his own fireside--at least, his wife
never discovered any want of it--and as for her strong will, they
had only one strong will between them, so that there could be no
collision. Being thus thoroughly attached and thoroughly happy, what
could occur to break up this happiness? A terrible thing came to
pass. Having had perfect health up to middle life, an acutely painful
disease seized Lord Arthur, and after tormenting him for more than a
year it changed his face and sent him away.

There is nothing more striking than the calmness and dignity with
which people will meet death--even people from whom this could not
have been expected. No one who did not know it would have guessed how
Lord Arthur was suffering, and he never spoke of it, least of all to
his wife; while she, acutely aware of it and vibrating with sympathy,
never spoke of it to him; and they were happy as those are who know
that they are drinking the last drops of earthly happiness. He died
with his wife's hand in his grasp: she gave the face--dead, but with
the appearance of life not vanished from it--one long, passionate
kiss, and left him, nor ever looked on it again.

Lady Arthur secluded herself for some weeks in her own room, seeing no
one but the servants who attended her; and when she came forth it was
found that her eccentricity had taken a curious turn: she steadily
ignored the death of her husband, acting always as if he had gone on a
journey and might at any moment return, but never naming him unless it
was absolutely necessary. She found comfort in this simulated delusion
no doubt, just as a child enjoys a fairy-tale, knowing perfectly well
all the time that it is not true. People in her own sphere said
her mind was touched: the co