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 the passion of her soul, that it was neither the outgrowth of a momentary impulse, nor one of those transient, effervescent passages of her life, with which she often regaled him. Taking out his watch, and seeing it was time for him to go, he rose, saying to her caressingly, "Rosalind, as you are yet young and have such a fondness for literary pursuits, why don't you devote to them a portion of your time? I have formed too high an estimate of you to suppose you ambitious of mere worldly fame, and perhaps the assistance and approval of your husband may atone for some of the honors and privileges you envy us, and I do not say, without just cause."

She replied by a grateful smile, and he left her immediately. He was very conservative in his tastes and habits, and it had never occurred to him, as it never has to many other men, that a woman could want anything more after her affections were satisfied. Nothing that came from his wife was ever deemed unworthy of consideration, and there was so much of truth embodied in her remarks that he could not have thrust them aside if he would. He felt that there was not quite so much honor as is boasted in being styled the "lords of creation," and when greeted with applause and complimented with toasts, the sound of that delicate but keen reproach stung his sensibilities, and he felt more as if he had done some mean and cowardly act that merited disgrace than one deserving praise. He coveted more the smiling approval of his wife than all these courtly honors.

Rosalind never intended the personal rebuke she