uld have ruralized and
practicalized Romeo in the lane of Burleigh Grange. Zelma herself, too
unworldly to suspect that self-interest had anything to do with her
conquest, never alluded to her lack of dowry till it was too late. Then
both manly shame and manly passion (for the actor loved her in his way,
which was by no means her way, or the way of any large, loyal nature)
restrained all unbecoming expression of chagrin and disappointment,--
which yet sunk into his heart, and prepared the not uncongenial coil for
a goodly crop of suspicion, jealousy, alienation, aversion, and all
manner of domestic infelicities.

We cannot follow Zelma step by step, in her precarious and wandering
life, for the six months succeeding her marriage. It was a life not
altogether distasteful to her. She was not enough of a fine lady to be
dismayed or humiliated by its straits and shifts of poverty, by its
isolation and ostracism; while there was something in its alternations
of want and profusion, in its piquant contrasts of real and mimic life,
in its excitement, action, and change, which had a peculiar charm for
her wild and restless spirit. But from many of the associations of the
stage, from nearly all actors and actresses, and from all green-room
loungers, she instinctively recoiled, and held herself haughtily aloof
from the motley little world behind the scenes,--apparently by no
effort, but as sphered apart by the atmosphere of refinement and
superiority which enveloped her. Yet she almost constantly accompanied
her husband to rehearsal and play, where, for a time, her presence was
grateful both to the pride and a more amiable passion of her mercurial
lord. But the sight of that shy, shadowy figure haunting the wings, of
those keen, critical eyes ever following the business of the stage, at
last grew irksome to him, and he would fain have persuaded her to remain
quietly at their lodgings, whilst he was attending to his professional
duties. But no, she would go with him,--not for pleasure, or even
affection, but, as she always avowed, for artistic purposes. That she
had cherished, ever since her marriage, the plan of adopting her
husband's profession, she had never concealed from him. He usually
laughed, in his gay, supercilious way, when she spoke of this purpose,
or lightly patted her grand head and declared her to be a wilful,
unpractical enthusiast,--too much a child of Nature to attempt an art of
any kind,--born to _live_ and _be_