e fairly. I
notice in you, as well as in the general run of husbands, that if they
hev to suffer at all, they tell themselves that it is their wife's
fault, and they manage to believe it. It's queer but then it's a man's
way."

"You think I should be kinder to Jane?"

"Thou art kind enough in a way. A mother might nurse her baby as often
as it needed nursing, but if she never petted it and kissed it, never
gave it smiles and little hugs and simple foolish baby talk, it would be
a badly nursed and a very much robbed child. Do you understand?"

"You think I ought to give Jane more petting?"

Mrs. Hatton smiled and nodded. "She calls it _sympathy_, John, but that
is what she means. Hev a little patience, my dear lad. Listen! There is
a grand wife and a grand mother in Jane Hatton. If you do not develop
them, I, your mother, will say, 'somehow it is John's fault.'"

Now life will always be to a large extent what we make it. Jane was
trying with all her power to make her life lovable and fair, and the
beginning of all good is action, for in this warfare they who would win
must struggle. Hitherto, since Martha's death, she had found in nascent,
indolent self-pity the choicest of luxuries. Now she had abandoned this
position and with courage and resolve was devoting herself to her
husband and her house. Unfortunately, there were circumstances in John's
special business cares that gave an appearance of Duncan Grey's wooing
to all her efforts--when the lassie grew kind, Duncan grew cool. It was
truly only an appearance, but Jane was not familiar with changes in
Love's atmosphere. John's steadfast character had given her always fair
weather.

In reality the long strain of business cares and domestic sorrow had
begun to tell even upon John's perfect health and nervous system. Facing
absolute ruin in the war years and surrounded by pitiable famine and
death, he had kept his cheerful temper, his smiling face, his resolute,
confident spirit. Now, he was singularly prosperous. The mill was busy
nearly night and day, all his plans and hopes had been perfected; yet
he was often either silent or irritable. Jane seldom saw him smile and
never heard him sing and she feared that he often shirked her company.

One hot morning at the end of August she had a shock. He had taken his
breakfast before she came down and he had left her no note of greeting
or explanation. She ran to a window that overlooked the main avenue and
she could see