Mrs. Deane sat rocking, and casting impatient glances at the little clock upon the mantle. The book which she had an hour previous been deeply interested in, lay closed upon her lap, while the nervous glancing of her eye towards the door, told that she was anxiously awaiting the arrival of some one. The clock struck ten, and rising from her seat, she went to the window, and drawing the curtain aside, looked out on the soft summer night. It was one of those lovely evenings towards the close of the season, when the slightly chilled air reminds one of cosy firesides, and close companionship with those dearest to the heart. But her thoughts were not of a peaceful cast. She was alone, and jealous of him who had left her so. A moment later and the sound of footsteps was heard upon the piazza; a sound which in earlier years she had heard with thrills of pleasure. But to-night they only loosed the tension of long-pent passion, and selfish thoughts of neglect. She sank into a chair, and sat with the air of one deeply wronged, as her husband entered the room.

"What, up and waiting for me?" he said, going towards her, his face glowing with mental exhilaration.

She turned coldly from him, and took up her book. He drew it gently from her, saying,--

"Listen, Mabel, to me. I want to talk with you awhile. You can read when I am away."

"Yes, sir, I find ample opportunities for that," and she cast on him a look of keen rebuke.

"Don't, Mabel; listen to me."

"I am all attention; why do you not proceed?"

"Do you think I can talk while you are in such a frame of mind?"

"Why, what would you have me do? I am waiting for your words of wisdom, or, maybe, a lecture on the foibles of the sex in general, and myself in particular; proceed, it's quite a relief, I assure you, to hear a human voice after these lonely evenings, which seem interminable."

"Why, Mabel, what do you mean? I have not spent an evening away from you for nearly a year before this. My absence this evening has been purely accidental, although I have passed it very agreeably."

"And may I ask where you find such delightful entertainment, that kept you away till this late hour, for it is nearly midnight?"

"Yes. I have spent the evening with Miss Evans."

"That detestable strong-minded-"

"Mabel! I will not hear her spoken of in this manner."

"O, no indeed. All the men in L--are crazy after her society,--so refined, so progressive, so intelligent. I am sick of it all. I suppose you think we poor wives will submit to all this. No, no; I shall not, for one. You will spend your evenings at home with me. Howard Deane, you have no right to leave me for the society of any woman, as you have to-night."

Having thus expended her breath and wrath, she sank back into her hair and gave vent to her feelings in a flood of tears. To her limited sight, she was an injured woman. How different would she have felt could she have kindly listened to the words which he was longing to speak to her.

"O, Mabel, if you would only listen to me. To-night I have heard such glorious thoughts that my whole being longed to share them with you. Thoughts that would make any man or woman live a nobler and better life. O, Mabel, be my helpmate. Do not turn from one who loves you."

"A strange way to manifest your love for me, spending your hours with other women,--"

"Stop, Mabel. I will, at least, have myself heard, and be free to hear the thoughts of other women, as well as those of men. I begin to believe that the words of Hugh Wyman are too true, 'marriage, in nine cases out of ten, is a bondage-a yoke of tyranny, keeping two souls fretting and wearing each other's lives away.'"

He stopped, fearful that he had gone too far, and looked earnestly on the cold features of his wife. Forgive him, reader, he could not help comparing her then with Miss Evans, the latter so calm, earnest, and deep in her love for humanity and progressive life.

He stepped close to her side, and taking her hand as tenderly as a lover might, said,--

"Mabel, forgive me; I was excited, and said too much. I love you, as you well know, as I love no other woman, but I must have the innocent freedom of enjoying a friend's society, even though that friend be a woman.

"O, certainly, Mr. Deane. I would not for a moment debar you from social pleasures. I see I am not congenial, and do not attract you. Perhaps Miss Evans is your soul-affinity; if so, I beg you not to let me stand in your way. I can go to my father's, any day."

"Mabel!" It was all he could utter, and went out of the room.

Alone, and left to her own reflections, she became more calm. A tear of real penitence for her hasty words, stole down her cheek. "I will go and tell Howard I am sorry for my unkind remarks," she said, as she brushed it from her face, and she rose to do so. At that moment a short, quick ring of the doorbell shook away the resolve, and she trembled with fear, unable to answer the summons.

How thankful she felt to hear her husband's firm, manly step in the hall, and then his voice, low and rich as ever, welcoming her own parents. Why were they here? and what could have happened? were the questions which came to her mind, as her mother rushed into the room, followed by her father, with a carpet-bag and sundry packages.

"We have given you a surprise this time, I guess, Mabel," he said, kissing her as tenderly as he used to when she sat upon his knee, and listened to almost endless stories of his own making.

"But why is it that you are so late?" she asked, anxiously.

"The cars were delayed three hours by an accident, so instead of arriving in good time, we have come in rather out of order, but not unwelcome, Mabel, I know."

He did not see her face, or he might have feared that the welcome was not as warm as usual. She answered quickly:

"Why, yes, father, you and mother are welcome at any time of day or night," and yet she wished she was alone with Howard that moment.

"I told father," said her mother, looking at the clock, "that it was so late we had better go to a hotel, but he would come, saying, Howard would not mind getting up to give the old folks a welcome."

"We should have been very sorry to have had you done so. O, here comes Howard," and the husband of Mabel entered, looking very pale.

"Late hours don't agree with you, my son. What has kept you up so............