Now am I really his wife." * * * * * Did she see a change in him?
Did he come less frequently?
Did he stay less long?
Was there uneasiness in his eye--coolness--languor?
No, no.
It was her exacting heart which thus interpreted his look--which counted the days--forgot his many engagements--saw impatience in the quickness with which he corrected her faults in manner or language instead of the old indulgence which met each error with a smile.

Love cannot always keep at fever-heat.

He, the cynosure of the whole foreign element, had the world at his feet here as in Lucerne.

It needed no jealous eye to see this; while she--well, she had her attractions too, as had been often proved, and with God's help she would yet be a fit mate for him.

What she now lacked, she would acquire.