“My dear Zoe,” he said, “I owe you an apology!  I actually forgot all about those lessons.”

“And me, too,” she said bitterly.  “My musical and conversational gifts sink into utter insignificance beside those of these newcomers.”

“Jealousy is a very mean and wicked passion, Zoe; I don’t like to see you indulging it,” he said, turning away from her.  “I am, of course, expected to pay some attention to my mother’s guests, and you will have to put up with it.”

“You are always right and I am always wrong,” she said, half choking with indignation; “but if you are always to do as you please, I shall do as I please.”

“In regard to what?” he asked coldly.

“Everything!” she answered in a defiant tone.

Edward strode angrily into the next room; but five minutes sufficed to subdue his passion, and in tender tones he called softly to his wife, “Zoe, love, will you please come here for a moment?”

She started with surprise at the kindness of his tones, her heart leaped for joy, and she ran to him, smiling through her tears.

He had seated himself in a large easy-chair.  “Come, darling,” he said, drawing her to a seat upon his knee.  Then with his arm about her waist, “Zoe, love, we are husband and wife, whom nothing but death can ever separate.  Let us be kind to one another, kind and forbearing, so that when one is taken the other will have no cause for self-reproach.”

“O Ned, don’t talk of that,” she sobbed with her arms about his neck, her cheek laid to his.  “I’m sure it would kill me to lose you.  You are all I have in the wide world.”

“So I am, you poor little dear,” he said, softly smoothing her hair, “and I ought to be always kind to you.  But, indeed, Zoe, you have no need to be jealous of any other woman.  I may like to talk with them and listen to their music, but when I want some one to love and pet, my heart turns to my own little wife.”

“It was very foolish!” she said, penitently, “but I did so want you to myself to-night, and I’d worked so busily all day learning the lessons and that song you brought me, thinking to please you.”

“Did you, dear? well, it was too bad in me to neglect you so, and even to forget to give you this, which I bought expressly for my dear little wife, while in the city to-day.”

He took her hand as he spoke, and slipped a ring upon her finger.

“O Ned, thank you!” she exclaimed, lifting to his a face full of delight.  “It’s very pretty, and so good in you to remember to bring me something.”

“Then shall we kiss and be friends, and try not to quarrel any more?”

“Yes; oh yes!” she said, offering her lips.

“I must have that song to-morrow,” he said, caressing her again and again.

“No, no!  I can’t think of singing before such a performer as Miss Fleming.”

“But you are an early bird, and she and Miss Deane will probably be late.  Can’t you sing and play for me before they are down in the morning?”