es, when these
manifestations were more distinct than usual.

The experience of a single year was painful in the extreme. The young
wife not only found herself neglected, but treated with what she felt
to be direct unkindness. She had discovered that her husband was
selfish; and though, to the world, he showed a polished exterior, she
had found him wanting in the finer feelings she had fondly believed
him to possess. Moreover, he was a mere sensualist, than which nothing
is more revolting to a pure-minded woman. External attractions had
brought them together, but these had failed to unite them as one.

No wonder that, in such a marriage, a few years robbed the cheeks of
Edith of their roundness and bloom, and her eyes of their beautiful
light. Those who met her, no longer remarked upon her loveliness, but
rather spoke of the great change so short a period had wrought. A
certain respect for himself caused Ashton to assume the appearance of
kindness toward his wife, when any one was present; but at other times
he manifested the utmost indifference. They had three children, and
love for these held them in a state of mutual toleration and
forbearance.

Ill health was the understood reason for the change in Edith's manner
and appearance. Few, if any, knew the real cause. Few imagined that
the fountain of her affections had become sealed, or only poured forth
its waters to sink in an arid soil. In society she made an effort to
be companionable and cheerful for the sake of others; and at home,
with her children, she strove to be the same. But, oh! what a weary,
hopeless life she led; and but for the love of her little ones, she
would have died.

Mary Graham was united to Mr. Erskine, shortly after the union of
Edith with Mr. Ashton--and it was a true marriage. A just appreciation
of internal qualities had drawn them together, and these proved, as
they ever do, permanent bonds.

Mary and Edith had retained a tender regard for each other, and met
frequently. But in all their intercourse, with true womanly delicacy,
Edith avoided all allusion to her own unhappy state, although there
were times when her heart longed to unburden itself to one so truly a
sympathizing friend.

One evening--it was ten years from the time of Edith's marriage--her
husband came home in his usual cold and indifferent way; and while
they sat at the tea-table, something that she said excited his anger,
and he replied in most harsh and cutting words.