absolution.

In presence of a great assembly the wedding took place. The same priest
who had heard the confession ministered for the marriage. He handed to
each of the couple a lighted candle decorated with flowers. The chanting
of an invisible choir resounded richly through the church, and when the
liturgy was finished, the solemn benediction was read over the bridal
pair. It was a great event in the fashionable world of Moscow.

_X_

Anna and Vronsky had been travelling for three months in Europe. As for
Anna, she had revelled in the exuberance of her freedom from a
disagreeable past, the events of which seemed like some frightful
nightmare. She appeased her conscience to some extent by saying to
herself: "I have done my husband an irreparable injury, but I also
suffer, and I shall suffer." The prediction was soon fulfilled. Vronsky
soon began to feel dissatisfied. He grew weary of lack of occupation in
foreign cities for sixteen hours a day. Life soon became intolerable in
little Italian cities, and Anna, though astonished at this speedy
disillusionment, agreed to return to Russia and to spend the summer on
his estate. They travelled home, but neither of them was happy. Vronsky
perceived that Anna was in a strange state of mind, evidently tormented
by something which she made no attempt to explain. By degrees she, on
her part, realized that Vronsky was willing to absent himself from her
society on various excuses. Quarrels became frequent, and at length
alienation was complete.

* * * * *

A tragedy happened on the railway. A woman went along the platform of
the station and walked off on to the line. Like a madman a short time
afterwards Vronsky rushed into the barracks where Anna's body had been
carried. Her head was untouched, with its heavy braids of hair and light
curls gathered about the temples. Her eyes were half closed and her lips
were slightly opened as if she was about to speak, and to repeat the
last words she had uttered to him: "You will repent."

The war with Turkey had broken out, and Vronsky, disgusted with his
whole life, left for Servia.

* * * * *

ANTHONY TROLLOPE

The Warden

Few English men of letters have had an unhappier childhood
than Anthony Trollope. Born in London on April 24, 1815, his
home was made sordid by his father's misfortunes, and at
Harrow and Winchester, where he was fo