To whom, said I, are you to be married?

That, he replied, I cannot tell you.  He was a moment silent, then continued with an impassive look of cold self-possession, that affected me with strange sadness.

“The name of the person you will hear, of course, at the time, but more I cannot tell you.  I need, however, the presence, not only of legal, but of respectable and friendly witnesses.  I have hoped you and your husband would do me this kindness.  Will you?”

Something in his manner made it impossible to refuse.  I answered before I knew I was going to speak, “We will,” and he left me.

I will not weary you with telling how I harassed myself and my husband, who was, however, scarce less interested, with doubts and conjectures.  Suffice it that, next morning, P. came and took us in a carriage to a distant church.  We had just entered the porch when a cart, such as fruit and vegetables are brought to market in, drove up, containing an elderly woman and a young girl.  P. assisted them to alight, and advanced with the girl to the altar.

The girl was neatly dressed and quite handsome, yet, something in her expression displeased me the moment I looked upon her.  Meanwhile the ceremony was going on, and, at its close, P. introduced us to the bride, and we all went to the door.

Good-by, Fanny, said the elderly woman.  The new-made Mrs. P. replied without any token of affection or emotion.  The woman got into the cart and drove away.

From that time I saw but little of P. or his wife.  I took our mutual friends to see her, and they were civil to her for his sake.  Curiosity was very much excited, but entirely baffled; no one, of course, dared speak to P. on the subject, and no other means could be found of solving the riddle.

He treated his wife with grave and kind politeness, but it was always obvious that they had nothing in common between them.  Her manners and tastes were not at that time gross, but her character showed itself hard and material.  She was fond of riding, and spent much time so.  Her style in this, and in dress, seemed the opposite of P.’s; but he indulged all her wishes, while, for himself, he plunged into his own pursuits.

For a time he seemed, if not happy, not positively unhappy; but, after a few years, Mrs. P. fell into the habit of drinking, and then such scenes as you witnessed grew frequent.  I have often heard of them, and always that P. sat, as you describe him, his head bowed down and perfectly silent all through, whatever might be done or whoever be present, and always his aspect has inspired such sympathy that no person has questioned him or resented her insults, but merely got out of the way, so soon as possible.

Hard and long penance, said my father, after some minutes musing, for an hour of passion, probably for his only error.

Is that your explanation? said the lady.  O, improbable.  P. might err, but not be led beyond himself.