pression of surprise; for
she had scarcely had a doubt that her husband would have preferred
evading the visit of his fine friend, under his gloomy circumstances.

"If our modest fare does not suit him," said Marston, with sullen
bitterness, "he can depart as easily as he came. We, poor gentlemen, can
but do our best. I have thought it over, and made up my mind."

"And how soon, my dear Richard, do you intend fixing his arrival?" she
inquired, with the natural uneasiness of one upon whom, in an
establishment whose pretensions considerably exceeded its resources, the
perplexing cares of housekeeping devolved.

"Why, as soon as he pleases," replied he, "I suppose you can easily have
his room prepared by tomorrow or next day. I shall write by this mail,
and tell him to come down at once."

Having said this in a cold, decisive way, he turned and left her, as it
seemed, not caring to be teased with further questions. He took his
solitary way to a distant part of his wild park, where, far from the
likelihood of disturbance or intrusion, he was often wont to amuse
himself for the live-long day, in the sedentary sport of shooting
rabbits. And there we leave him for the present, signifying to the
distant inmates of his house the industrious pursuit of his unsocial
occupation, by the dropping fire that sullenly, from hour to hour, echoed
from the remote woods.

Mrs. Marston issued her orders; and having set on foot all the necessary
preparations for so unwonted an event as a stranger's visit of some
duration, she betook herself to her little boudoir--the scene of many an
hour of patient but bitter suffering, unseen by human eye, and unknown,
except to the just Searcher of hearts, to whom belongs mercy--and
vengeance.

Mrs. Marston had but two friends to whom she had ever spoken upon the
subject nearest her heart--the estrangement of her husband, a sorrow to
which even time had failed to reconcile her. From her children this grief
was carefully concealed. To them she never uttered the semblance of a
complaint. Anything that could by possibility have reflected blame or
dishonor upon their father, she would have perished rather than have
allowed them so much as to suspect. The two friends who did understand
her feelings, though in different degrees, were, one, a good and
venerable clergyman, the Rev. Doctor Danvers, a frequent visitor and
occasional guest at Gray Forest, where his simple manners and unaffected
benignity and t