18/27 It came at last, though very slowly. Carew was devoted to his spouse for a whole twelvemonth--a longer time than youth and beauty combined have ever enthralled him since. Even when her tender tones--for she had the sweetest voice that ever woman possessed--failed to thrill him, and her queenly form to charm, he would probably not have consented to take part against her, but for her own imprudence. She lost her temper with him upon a matter where it is difficult for the wisest of her sex to keep it: she grew jealous." "Without cause ?" inquired Yorke, gloomily. His cigar had gone out, though he still held it between his white lips. |