betrayed to her husband a partiality that was to him in the highest degree offensive.
He had now discovered, as he thought, the cause of her indifference, and he felt that he had been deceived and duped. The vague jealousy he had felt of everyone whom Lady Eveline seemed to like, had now a definite object, and she could no longer parry or deny his reproaches. John Derrick now left his wife more than he had done, lived very fast, and neglected her. This did not distress her so much as it ought to have done; she was much happier in his absence; and the knowledge of that only increased his dislike to her going anywhere, or seeing anyone at home, though he would not take the trouble to accompany her or to help her to entertain her guests.
Three children were born to this mis-matched pair; and one of the three, the youngest, died. This was a legitimate cause of grief to both, and ought to have drawn them to each other; but neither John Derrick nor his wife loved their children so intensely as to grieve for them long, and they both seemed to think that their natural regret was a thing to be dissipated and diverted by amusement and society, rather than to be soothed and sanctified by mutual sympathy. What might have resulted in the course of many years—whether they might have learned to bear their
