e had always been
indulged, and I ought to have kept up the system a little longer, and
let her down more gradually. I thought of her as I first saw her in
the glory of her youthful beauty on the Calais boat, and softened my
heart till I began to long for a reconciliation. Really I could not
see where I had done any thing out of the way. I was awfully fond of
her at first, and would have remained so if she had let me; but, you
perceive, her style was not exactly the kind which is best adapted to
keep a man at a woman's feet. If she had shown the slightest particle
of tenderness, I would have gladly forgiven her all--yes, even the
kick, by Jove!

"We had been married about six months or so, and had not spoken for
over four months; so on the day I refer to I went to her room. She
received me with a sulky expression, and a hard stare full of insult.

"'My dear,' said I, 'I have come to talk seriously with you.'

"'Kate,' said she, 'show this gentleman out.'

"It was her maid to whom she spoke. The maid colored. I turned to her
and pointed to the door, and she went out herself. My wife stood
trembling with rage--a beautiful fury.

"'I have determined,' said I, quietly, 'to make one last effort for
reconciliation, and I want to be heard. Hear me now, dear, dear wife.
I want your love again; I can not live this way. Can nothing be done?
Must I, must you, always live this way? Have I done any wrong? If I
have, I repent. But come, let us forget our quarrel; let us remember
the first days of our acquaintance. We loved one another, darling. And
how beautiful you were! You are still as beautiful; won't you be as
loving? Don't be hard on a fellow, dear. If I've done any wrong, tell
me, and I'll make it right. See, we are joined together for life.
Can't we make life sweeter for one another than it is now? Come, my
wife, be mine again.'

"I went on in this strain for some time, and my own words actually
softened me more as I spoke. I felt sorry, too, for my wife, she
seemed so wretched. Besides, it was a last chance, and I determined to
humble myself. Any thing was better than perpetual hate and misery. So
at last I got so affected by my own eloquence that I became quite
spooney. Her back was turned to me; I could not see her face. I
thought by her silence that she was affected, and, in a gush of
tenderness, I put my arm around her.

"In an instant she flung it off, and stepped back, confronting me with
a face as hard and an