sympathy in her hearer, she went on, and you will believe me when I
tell you we talked till midnight, and that then Mary sunk, like a
weary child, into my arms in a sound sleep.

"I cannot give you her precise words, but the import of her relation I
shall never forget. A few words will suffice to tell you what it took
her hours of emotion and tears to reveal.

"You remember I told you she looked determined to do her duty, and be
as happy a wife as she could. Did ever a wife succeed in being happy
with duty for the material? Perhaps if Mr. Gardner had been an ardent
lover, somewhat impulsive, and eager to commend himself to her
grateful affection, he would have succeeded in doing so; indeed, I am
sure of it, in time it must have been so; but, alas! Mr. Gardner was a
calm, gentlemanly, sensible, phlegmatic person, who thought his wife's
impulsive and hasty nature should be occasionally checked, and who had
no toleration for, nor sympathy with, her excitable spirit.
Consequently, she soon learned to have a calm exterior when he was at
home, which his frequent absences made it easy to assume. They had
been married something like three years, and Mary was the delighted
mother of a healthy and lovely daughter. Her heart, which had almost
closed in the chilly atmosphere of her husband's manners, expanded and
flowered luxuriantly in the warmth of maternity. In her happiness she
reflected a part of its exuberance on her husband, and smiled with
much of her old gayety. 'I felt my young days coming back to me,' she
said.

"One day the post brought a letter for her, which she opened, and then
left the room to read. The letter was from young Randolph. The writer
apologized for his year's silence to her, by an account of a long
illness, &c. He knew of her happiness, of her child; in short, he
seemed to be informed of every thing about her. He asked to be
permitted to correspond with her. The letter expressed the strongest
and deepest interest, but couched in such respectful and friendly
terms as were difficult to resist. Mary struggled long with her sense
of what was due to herself and her husband; but right at last
conquered, and she re-entered the room with the letter in her hand.
Tremblingly she gave it to her husband, who read a part of it, and
then said, with much kindness of manner,

"'Correspond with any of your friends, male or female, my dear. I have
not the slightest objection.'

"Mary's good spirit was still at her