the second Sunday after our arrival, he shocked and horrified me by another instance of his unreasonable exaction. We were walking home from the morning service—for it was a fine frosty day, and, as we are so near the church, I had requested the carriage should not be used:—
"Helen," said he, with unusual gravity, "I am not quite satisfied with you."
I desired to know what was wrong.
"But will you promise to reform, if I tell you?"
"Yes, if I can—and without offending a higher authority."
"Ah! there it is, you see—you don't love me with all your heart."
"I don't understand you, Arthur (at least, I hope I don't): pray tell me what I have done or said amiss?"
"It is nothing you have done or said; it is something that you are: you are too religious. Now I like a woman to be religious, and I think your piety one of your greatest charms,
