Lillie had the prettiest little caressing tricks and graces imaginable; and she perched herself on his knee, and laughed and chatted so gayly, and pulled his whiskers so saucily, and then, springing up, began arraying herself in such an astonishing daintiness of device, and fluttering before him with such a variety of well-assorted plumage, that John was quite taken off his feet.  He did not care so much whether what she willed to do were, “Wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best,” as feel that what she wished to do must be done at any rate.

[Illustration:  “She perched herself on his knee.”]

“Why, darling!” he said in his rapture; “why didn’t you tell me all this before?  Here you have been growing sad and blue, and losing your vivacity and spirits, and never told me why!”

“I thought it was my duty, John, to try to bear it,” said Lillie, with the sweet look of a virgin saint.  “I thought perhaps I should get used to things in time; and I think it is a wife’s duty to accommodate herself to her husband’s circumstances.”

“No, it’s a husband’s duty to accommodate himself to his wife’s wishes,” said John.  “What’s that fellow’s address?  I’ll write to him about doing our house, forthwith.”

“But, John, do pray tell Gracie that it’s your wish.  I don’t want her to think that it’s I that am doing this.  Now, pray do think whether you really want it yourself.  You see it must be so natural for you to like the old things!  They must have associations, and I wouldn’t for the world, now, be the one to change them; and, after all, how silly it was of me to feel blue!”

“Don’t say any more, Lillie.  Let me see,—­next week,” he said, taking out his pocket-book, and looking over his memoranda,—­“next week I’ll take you down to Newport; and you write to-day to your mother to meet you there, and be your guest.  I’ll write and engage the rooms at once.”

“I don’t know what I shall do without you, John.”

“Oh, well, I couldn’t stay possibly!  But I may run down now and then, for a night, you know.”

“Well, we must make that do,” said Lillie, with a pensive sigh.

Thus two very important moves on Miss Lillie’s checker-board of life were skilfully made.  The house was to be refitted, and the Newport precedent established.

Now, dear friends, don’t think Lillie a pirate, or a conspirator, or a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing, or any thing else but what she was,—­a pretty little, selfish woman; undeveloped in her conscience and affections, and strong in her instincts and perceptions; in a blind way using what means were most in her line to carry her purposes.  Lillie had always found her prettiness, her littleness, her helplessness, and her tears so very useful in carrying her points in life that she resorted to them as her lawful stock in trade.  Neither were her blues entirely shamming.  There comes a time after marriage, when a husband, if he be any thing of a man, has something else to do than make direct love to his wife.  He cannot be on duty at all hours to fan her, and shawl her, and admire her.  His love must express itself through other channels.  He must be a full man for her sake; and, as a man, must go forth to a whole world of interests that takes him from her.  Now what in this case shall a woman do, whose only life lies in petting and adoration and display?