he looked at her, and fairly wondered that he had married such a beautiful creature.  He felt humble before her.  Humility was not a salutary condition of mind for him, but this woman inspired it now, and would still more in the future.  In spite of his first wife’s scolding, her quick temper, he had always felt himself as good as she was.  The mere fact of the temper itself had served to give him a sense of equality and, perhaps, superiority, but this woman never showed temper.  She never failed to respond with her stereotyped smile to everything that was said.  She seemed to have no faults at all, to realize none in herself, and not to admit the possibility of any one else doing so.

Harry felt himself distinctly in the wrong beside such unquestionable right.  He even did not think himself so good-looking as he had formerly done.  It seemed to him that he looked much older than Ida.  When they went out together he felt like a lackey in attendance on an empress.  In his own home, it came to pass that he seldom made a remark when guests were present without a covert glance at his wife to see what she thought of it.  He could always tell what she thought, even if her face did not change and she made no comment neither then nor afterwards, and she always made him know, in some subtle fashion, when he had said anything wrong.

Maria felt very much in the same way at first, but she fought involuntarily against it.  She had a good deal of her mother in her.  Finally, she never looked at Ida when she said anything.  She was full of rebellion although she was quiet and obedient, and very unobtrusive, in the new state of things.

Ida entertained every Tuesday evening.  There was not a caterer as at the first reception, but Ida herself cooked dainty messes in a silver chafing-dish, and Maria and the white-capped little maid passed things.  It was not especially expensive, but people in Edgham began to talk.  They said Harry was living beyond his means; but Ida kept within his income.  She had too good a head for reckless extravagance, although she loved admiration and show.  When there were no guests in the house, Maria used to go to her own room early of an evening, and read until it was time to go to bed.  She realized that her father and Ida found her somewhat superfluous, although Ida never made any especial effort to entertain her father that Maria could see.  She was fond of fancy-work, and was embroidering a silk gown for herself.  She embroidered while Harry read the paper.  She did not talk much.  Maria used to wonder that her father did not find it dull when he and She were alone together of an evening.  She looked at him reading his paper, with frequent glances of admiration over it at his beautiful wife, and thought that in his place, she should much prefer a woman like her mother, who had kept things lively, even without company, and even in a somewhat questionable fashion.  However, Harry and Ida themselves went out a good deal.