grasped his wife's arm, and said in his deepest tones, "Tell me all, Marianne, tell me all!"
"I ought," said Mrs. Saltren, recovering herself from the confusion which she felt, when her brother ridiculed her story, "I ought at this day to wear a coronet of diamonds. I was loved by a distinguished nobleman, with ardour. I cannot say I loved him equally; but I was dazzled. His family naturally were strenuously opposed to our union; but, indeed, they knew nothing at all about it. He entreated me to consent to have our union celebrated in private. He undertook to obtain a special licence from the Archbishop. How was I to know that my simplicity was being imposed upon? I was an innocent, confiding girl, ignorant of the world's deceit; and extraordinarily good-looking."
"And you did not reckon on the wickedness of the aristocracy. Go on."
But Marianne paused. She was not ready to fill up the details, and to complete her narrative without consideration.
"Do not keep me in torture!" protested Saltren; his face was twitching convulsively.
"How could I help myself?" asked Marianne. "It was not my fault that I had such an exquisite complexion, such abundant, beautiful hair, and such lovely eyes; though, heaven knows, little did I know it then, or have I thought of, or valued it since. My beauty is, to some extent, gone now, but not altogether. As for my teeth, Stephen, which were pearls—I had not a decayed one in my jaws then; but after I married you they began to go with worry, and because you did not trust me, and were unkind to me!"
"Marianne," said Saltren, "you deceived me—you deceived me cruelly. You told me nothing of this when I married you."
"I was always a woman of delicacy, and it was not for
