There were two small but neatly, though plainly, furnished rooms, in the second story of a house located in a retired street.  In one of these rooms tea was prepared, and near the tea-table sat a young woman, with a sleeping babe nestled to-her bosom.  She was fair-faced and sunny-haired; and in her blue eyes lay, in calm beauty, sweet tokens of a pure and loving heart.  How tenderly she looked down, now and then, upon the slumbering cherub whose winning ways and murmurs of affection had blessed her through the day!  Happy young wife! these are thy halcyon days.  Care has not thrown upon thee a single shadow from his gloomy wing, and hope pictures the smiling future with a sky of sunny brightness.

“How long he stays away!” had just passed her lips, when the sound of well-known footsteps was heard in the passage below.  A brief time, and then the room-door opened, and Edward Claire came in.  What a depth of tenderness was in his voice as he bent his lips to those of his young wife, murmuring—­

“My Edith!” and then touching, with a gentler pressure, the white forehead of his sleeping babe.

“You were late this evening, dear,” said Edith, looking into the face of her husband, whose eyes drooped under her earnest gaze.

“Yes,” he replied, with a slight evasion in his tone and manner; “we have been busier than usual to-day.”

As he spoke the young wife arose, and taking her slumbering child into the adjoining chamber, laid it gently in its crib.  Then returning, she made the tea—­the kettle stood boiling by the grate—­and in a little while they sat down to their evening meal.

Edith soon observed that her husband was more thoughtful and less talkative than usual.  She asked, however, no direct question touching this change; but regarded what he did say with closer attention, hoping to draw a correct inference, without seeming to notice his altered mood.

“Mr. Jasper’s business is increasing?” she said, somewhat interrogatively, while they still sat at the table, an expression of her husband’s leading to this remark.

“Yes, increasing very rapidly,” replied Claire, with animation.  “The fact is, he is going to get rich.  Do you know that his profit on to-day’s sales amounted to fifty dollars?”

“So much?” said Edith, yet in a tone that showed no surprise or particular interest in the matter.

“Fifty dollars a day,” resumed Claire, “counting three hundred week-days in the year, gives the handsome sum of fifteen thousand dollars in the year.  I’d be satisfied with as much in five years.”

There was more feeling in the tone of his voice than he had meant to betray.  His young wife lifted her eyes to his face, and looked at him with a wonder she could not conceal.

“Contentment, dear,” said she, in a gentle, subdued, yet tender voice, “is great gain.  We have enough, and more than enough, to make us happy.  Natural riches have no power to fill the heart’s most yearning affections; and how often do they take to themselves wings and fly away.”