before,-why should he now? . . . . And he went out alone, and his loneliness turned to hunger, and his hunger to pain.

Was it unnatural that when Anthony came home in the evening there should be change in Jenny herself, that the half-beseeching wonder in her eyes should have died out, leaving there a certain look of resolute indifference? And her manner was changed too; she was cold, and irritatingly submissive.

When Anthony, perhaps relenting a little, asked her to play, she rose instantly, and walked to the piano with an air of prompt obedience that was almost aggravating. And her playing did not improve matters. went carefully and mechanically through a long tedious sonata; and was about to begin

She

VOL. II.

13

another, when Anthony said,-drily enough, "Thank you, dear, that will do." And no music was asked for the next evening, nor the next; though Jenny waited with almost tearful tremulousness for the faintest desire. And all day she practised the wistful airs, the plaintive little songs, that were to touch him to tenderness when the evening

came.

It would hardly be possible to say which of these two people was suffering the most; and to both of them before three days were over the original cause of their suffering seemed so small, so far away, that it was hardly remembered. If either of them could have lived this brief time over again, half-a-dozen kind words said kindly would have dispelled the cloud at once. But there could be no going

back, there could only be resolve for the future.

But meantime the present was growing darker hour by hour. Had Anthony deceived himself? Was it true that "souls never touch their objects?" Was it only in fancy that he had been so completely one with this human being who had been all his joy, and was fast becoming all his sorrow?

He told himself that he dared not think ; but from morning till night he did nothing else but think. Could it be possible that their life was arranging itself on these terms permanently,--that the barriers would continue to rise of themselves, until by no effort could they ever be put down?

Anthony shivered at the thought.

He must do something. He had doubtless been to blame himself in some way or other,

though that way was not quite clear to him. An explanation might be a thing to be dreaded; but perhaps after all there were other things to be dreaded more.

CHAPTER IX.

"AS YOU ARE GREAT BE PITIFULLY GOOD."

"There are cases of wrecked lives, lost fame, guilt which has been followed by a very tempest and whirlwind of shame; yet in which, so far as we can see, there has been no precursor in the shape of sins that would naturally lead to ruin. The sky was bright, the horizon clear, and without warning the cloud gathered and the storm broke. So we say, so we think in our ignorance. So we shall not say when the secrets of all hearts are revealed."

Notes for the Age.

"JENNY, I'm going to York," Anthony said, coming in suddenly. It was about the middle of the afternoon.

Jenny was sitting with folded hands in a low chair near the window, her face a little