Lord Bereford took a fond interest in his newly found daughter.  He had always loved Lady Rosamond as his own child.  She reminded him of the lovely sister who shared in his youthful joys.  Maria Bereford was the favorite sister of his early days; her daughter was a tender link in the chain of memory.  Lady Rosamond fully returned the affection borne her by Lord Bereford.  She found a strange relief when sitting by his side listening to the stories which brought before her vivid conceptions of her childhood and its happy past never to return—­the days when her heart was free to roam in its wayward and fanciful nights full of ardour and the bouyant aspirations of unfettered youth.

Gerald Bereford proved indeed a tender and loving husband.  His heart was always ready to upbraid him if he were not ready to meet the slightest wish of his young wife.  Every kindness that could be bestowed on Lady Rosamond daily suggested itself to the mind of her thoughtful husband.  He was only happy in her presence—­she was the sunshine of his heart, of his life, of his soul.  Without Lady Rosamond this world was a blank—­a region “where light never enters, hope never comes.”  Nor was the fact unknown to the dutiful and amiable wife.  It grieved her deeply to witness such an exhibition of true love and tenderness without its receiving equal return.  With heroic bravery she endeavored to reward her husband by little acts of thoughtful kindness greeting his return from the turmoil of political struggles.  Pleasing surprises often met his eye when least expected.  Many pretty trinkets made expressly for his use, by the fair hands of Lady Rosamond, were placed in careless profusion around his private apartments.  These trifling incidents were an hundredfold more worth to Gerald Bereford than the most well-timed and flattering acknowledgments of the many who daily courted his friendship.  Thus did her ladyship strive to make amends to her husband without having recourse to deceit.  She returned his caresses, not with a fervent love, but with a feeling that such generous love exacted her sympathy.  In the tenderness of her heart some recompense must be made.  Would she ever learn to love her husband as he indeed deserved to be loved?  When would the hour arrive when she could say:  “Gerald, I love you with my entire heart and soul; I live for you alone; none other can possess the great love I bear for you, my husband.”  Those questions were frequently present in the mind of the devoted wife of Gerald Bereford.  But he knew it not.  He was in blissful ignorance of the fire within as he fondly dreamed of the pleasing graces of his lovely wife.  He had no reason to be otherwise than happy.

Lady Rosamond Bereford was above suspicion.  She had no desire to possess popularity outside her own household.  The flattery of the opposite sex was lost upon her.  The false smile of base and unprincipled men found no favor in the sight of her ladyship.  She discountenanced many practices sanctioned by the usages of good society.  Virtue was the true criterion upon which was based her ladyship’s judgment.