Christian's Mistake

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as a little ashamed that her impetuous impulse had faded. Yet why? Why should she not speak out her heart to her own husband? It began to be less difficult to do; for, though he did not answer much, he never misunderstood her,

d yet how, thus diverse, they should all live under the same roof togeth

made by aunts or children. She would have been glad sometimes to send them all away, and spend a quiet evening hour, such as the last one, alone with Dr. Grey. It was so pleasant

was a sullen look upon it which not all Christian's gentleness could chase away. Phillis had discovered her absence, and had punished her; not with whipping, that was forbidden, but with some of the innumerable nursery tyrannies

every thing, with her thin lips pressed into that hopeless line, or now and then open

yours are not nearly so big as poor ma

teaches women to find out, and either avoid or wound one another's sore places, which

d to be borne, and she was learning

d, for she was rich, and I was poor. Indeed, I have no

things, doesn't he?

es

ike his d

much i

on you married him? Aun

And yet Letitia only repea

t Henrietta makes a great mistake. She says and believes what is not true. I married your papa because I"-(oh that she cou

ever was!" cried Arthur from the sofa, where, by his ow

t she smiled. If there was a warm place in that poor little frigi

ties you'll dress me and make me look pretty too, and take me with you? You won

nking of the heart at the utter impossibility that under s

again, if ever she says one word to me of the things she us

he thought it best to take no notice, and

anxiously of these her children, turning over in her mind plan after plan as

gan playing with a little chimney-piece orname

was swept out of the narrow boundaries of self forever-made full and busy, ay, and bright too? For it was not a sad face, far from it, whi

t expected this, but she

drawing-room. To pass the time, she thought she would sing a little, as indeed she now made a point of doing daily, and would h

ike a living fountain in this girl's soul. She sang, quite alone in the room, but with such a keen delight, such a perfect absorption of enjoyment

is onl

Did I tr

I not trou

my d

d it impossible to explain, except that s

s 'bird' sometimes feel a little like a bird in a cage? Do you not wish you lived in the world-in London, wher

Grey!

arling. But confess; i

ngs into your head, for they never would come of themse

ed astonishment. He appeared so exceedingly grieved that

irl-a poor, helpless, half-formed girl, who never had any body to teach he

you mean

bear. And perhaps it was as well he should not. She would fight her own battles; she was strong enough now. It was a step-by-step adv

oigne at the door. Plea

r see I have

at of a handsome, well-preserved, middle-aged gentlewoman. So pleased was she with herself that she was pleasant to every one else; and when, half an hour after, Dr. Grey entered the reception-rooms of St. Mary'

crowd. Quite different from that of ordinary soirées, where the coup d'oeil is that of a bed of variegated flowers, with a tribe of black emmets posed on their hind legs inserted between. Here the gentlemen made as goodly a show as the ladies, or more so, many of them being in such picturesque costumes that they might have just stepped down from th

of gorgeous silks and satins. She liked it-childishly liked it. It was a piece of art-a picture, in the interest of which her own part therein was utterly and satisfactorily forgotten. She was so amused with watching other people that she never t

ersation with people far greater and grander and cleverer than she had ever met in her life; who, nevertheless, did not awe her at all, but led her on to talk, and to feel pleasure in talking; she being utterly unaware that h

rt such a gush of- gratitude was it?-to that good man who had loved her just as she was- poor Christian Oakley, governess and orphan-in that saddest state of orphanage which is conscious that all the world would say she had need to be thankful for the sa

at the wife of the vice chancellor, herself young and hand

life. It would be as bad as that nightmare fancy which used to haunt her, of being dragged forward to find the ten t

would much rather not.

man upon whose arm the hostess had crossed the room-of whom she, a stranger in

persuade her. Mrs. Grey, let me p

erfect stranger. She was quite certain afterward that she had not betrayed herself by any emotion; that, as seemed her only course, she had risen and walked straight to the piano, he

onscience of the world, which had readmitted him into the very society whence he had lately been ignominiously expelled. Her sole thought was that t

song. Surely you know i

htest sign, the quiver of fear, of indignation, which ran through all her frame, that, too, was equally impossible. One thing only presented

arm, she was piloted back through the crowd to Miss Gascoigne's side, Christian had not the slightest recollection

love him any more. Not an atom! All such feelings had been swept away, crushed out of existence by the total crush

vertible evidence (it is useless to enter into the circumstances, for no one is benefited by wallowing in unnecessary mire),

grown ugly to her sight. She shivered to think that once-thank God, only once!-his lips had pressed hers; that she had let him say to her fond words, and write to her fond letters, and had even

pale and terrible. In an agony of shame, as if all the world were pointing at her-at Dr. Grey's wife-she hid herself in a corner

t, his kind fa

ired." His eye caught-she knew it would at once-the change in her

to his arm, and passed through the crowd with him. And whether she fully love