rest she never had on earth. Won't she
stagger back against the glittering walls of the New Jerusalem and say,
"Not for me. Not for me. Surely it must be for my husband?" But there,
where places are appointed, she will not be allowed to give it up--which
may make her miserable even in heaven. Ah me, these mothers! It brings
tears to my eyes to think of their unending love, which wraps around and
shelters and broods over every one, whose helplessness clings to their
help, whose need depends upon their exhaustless supply. Theirs it is to
bear the invisible but princely crest, "Ich dien."

Nellie had no time for literary classes. Her music, of which we used to
predict great things, had resolved itself into lullabies and kindergarten
ditties for the children. She seldom found an opportunity to visit even
me. So it was I who went there and saw how her life was literally bound by
the four walls of that little brown house; yet I never felt any
inclination to pity her, because she was so contented. I knew of others
who seemed happier--that is, the word seemed to describe them better--but
none of them possessed Nellie Mayo's placid content.

Still, I did not like her husband. He was not of Nellie's fine fibre. He
was dull, while she was delightfully clever. His eyes were rather good,
but he had a way of throwing expressive glances at me, as he talked upon
trifling subjects, which disgusted me. I reluctantly made up my mind that
he considered himself a "lady-killer," but I felt outraged that he should
waste his ammunition upon me. I tried to be amused by it, when I found
indignation was useless with him. I used to call him "Simon Tappertit" to
myself, until I once forgot and referred to him as "Simon" before Nellie,
when I gave up being amused and let it bore me naturally. I always had
treated him with unusual consideration for Nellie's sake, and even had
tried genuinely to admire him because it gave her such pleasure; but when
I discovered that the jackanapes took it as an evidence that he was
progressing in my esteem, I did not know whether to laugh or cry with
vexation.

All at once, without any explanation or preface, Sallie began calling upon
Mrs. Mayo and sending her flowers from her conservatories. Often when
Sallie came to see me her coachman had orders to be at Mrs. Mayo's
disposal, to take the children for a drive, while Sallie and I sat and
talked about everything except why she had embarked upon this venture. I
was