ppiness has found no bed within its walls.

This is the more remarkable in that the marriage of Lord and Lady
Baltimore had been an almost idealistic one. They had been very much in
love with each other. All the hosts of friends and relations that
belonged to either side had been delighted with the engagement. So many
imprudent marriages were made, so many disastrous ones; but _here_ was a
marriage where birth and money went together, and left no guardians or
parents lamenting. All Belgravia stood still and stared at the young
couple with genuine admiration. It wasn't often that love, pure and
simple, fell into their midst, and such a _satisfactory_ love too! None
of your erratic darts that struck the wrong breasts, and created
confusion for miles round, but a thoroughly proper, respectable winged
arrow that pierced the bosoms of those who might safely be congratulated
on the reception of it.

They had, indeed, been very much in love with each other. Few people
have known such extreme happiness as fell to their lot for two whole
years. They were wrapt up in each other, and when the little son came at
the end of that time, _nothing_ seemed wanted. They grew so strong in
their belief in the immutability of their own relations, one to the
other, that when the blow fell that separated them, it proved a very
lightning-stroke, dividing soul from body.

Lady Baltimore could be at no time called a beautiful woman. But there
is always a charm in her face, a strength, an attractiveness that might
well defy the more material charms of a lovelier woman than herself.
With a soul as pure as her face, and a mind entirely innocent of the
world's evil ways--and the sad and foolish secrets she is compelled to
bear upon her tired bosom from century to century--she took with a
bitter hardness the revelations of her husband's former life before he
married her, related to her by--of course--a devoted friend.

Unfortunately the authority was an undeniable one. It was impossible for
Lady Baltimore to refuse to believe. The past, too, she might have
condoned; though, believing in her husband as she did, it would always
have been bitter to her, but the devoted friend--may all such meet their
just reward!--had not stopped there; she had gone a step further, a
fatal step; she had told her something that had _not_ occurred since
their marriage.

Perhaps the devoted friend believed in her lie, perhaps she did not.
Anyway, the mischief was done.