a reconciliation.  Really I could not see where I had done any thing out of the way.  I was awfully fond of her at first, and would have remained so if she had let me; but, you perceive, her style was not exactly the kind which is best adapted to keep a man at a woman’s feet.  If she had shown the slightest particle of tenderness, I would have gladly forgiven her all—­yes, even the kick, by Jove!

“We had been married about six months or so, and had not spoken for over four months; so on the day I refer to I went to her room.  She received me with a sulky expression, and a hard stare full of insult.

“‘My dear,’ said I, ‘I have come to talk seriously with you.’

“‘Kate,’ said she,’ show this gentleman out.’

“It was her maid to whom she spoke.  The maid colored.  I turned to her and pointed to the door, and she went out herself.  My wife stood trembling with rage—­a beautiful fury.

“‘I have determined,’ said I, quietly, ’to make one last effort for reconciliation, and I want to be heard.  Hear me now, dear, dear wife.  I want your love again; I can not live this way.  Can nothing be done?  Must I, must you, always live this way?  Have I done any wrong?  If I have, I repent.  But come, let us forget our quarrel; let us remember the first days of our acquaintance.  We loved one another, darling.  And how beautiful you were!  You are still as beautiful; won’t you be as loving?  Don’t be hard on a fellow, dear.  If I’ve done any wrong, tell me, and I’ll make it right.  See, we are joined together for life.  Can’t we make life sweeter for one another than it is now?  Come, my wife, be mine again.’

“I went on in this strain for some time, and my own words actually softened me more as I spoke.  I felt sorry, too, for my wife, she seemed so wretched.  Besides, it was a last chance, and I determined to humble myself.  Any thing was better than perpetual hate and misery.  So at last I got so affected by my own eloquence that I became quite spooney.  Her back was turned to me; I could not see her face.  I thought by her silence that she was affected, and, in a gush of tenderness, I put my arm around her.

“In an instant she flung it off, and stepped back, confronting me with a face as hard and an eye as malevolent as a demon.

“She reached out her hand toward the bell.

“‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.

“‘Ring for my maid,’ said she.”

[Illustration:  “VERY WELL.  HERE IT IS” ]

“‘Don’t,’ said I, getting between her and the bell.  ’Think; stop, I implore you.  This is our last chance for a reconciliation.’

“She stepped back with a cruel smile.  She had a small penknife in her hand.  Her eyes glittered venomously.

“‘Reconciliation,’ she said, with a sneer. ’I don’t want it; I don’t want you.  You came and forced yourself here.  Ring for my maid, and I will let her show you the door.’