ht before, and went away without any reconciliation
or even a good-by. In fact, she was asleep when I left the rooms, and knew
nothing of my going."

"O Edward!" exclaimed his listener in a low, pained tone.

"I am bitterly ashamed of my conduct, mother," he said with emotion, "but
we have made it up and are both very happy again in each other's love. She
was very humble over her part of the quarrel, poor little thing! and we
mean to live in peace and love the rest of our lives, God helping us," he
added reverently.

"I trust so, my dear boy," Elsie said, "for whether you live in peace or
contention, will make all the difference of happiness or misery in your
lives. It would have quite broken my heart had your father ever scolded or
threatened me."

"But you, mamma, were a woman when you married, old enough and wise enough
to guide and control yourself."

"I was older than Zoe is, it is true; but do not be dictatorial, Edward;
if you must rule, do it by love and persuasion; you will find it the
easiest and happiest way for you both."

"Yes, mother, I am convinced of it; but unfortunately for my poor little
wife, I have not my father's gentleness and easy temper. Will you come up
with me now and take a look at her? I fear she is not quite well--her
cheeks are so flushed and her hands so hot. I shall never forgive myself
if I have made her ill."

"I sincerely hope you are not to be visited with so severe a punishment as
that," his mother said. "But come, let us go to her at once."

They found her still sleeping, but not profoundly; her face was
unnaturally flushed, and wore a troubled expression, while her breathing
seemed labored.

As they stood anxiously regarding her, she woke with a sharp cry of
distress and anguish, then catching sight of her husband bending over her,
her face grew radiant, and throwing her arms about his neck, "O Ned, dear
Ned!" she cried, "are you here? and do you love me yet?"

"Dearly, dearly, my darling," he said, holding her close. "What has
troubled you?"

"Oh, such a dreadful dream! I thought I was all alone in a desert and
couldn't find you anywhere."

"But 'drames always go by conthraries, my dear,'" he quoted sportively.
Then more seriously, "Are you quite well, love?" he asked.

"A little dull and a trifle headachy," she answered, smiling up at him,
"but I think a cup of coffee and a drive with my husband in the sweet
morning air will cure me."

"You shall have both with