“But the girls are lively and entertaining.”

“Not for me, Cara.  Think again.”

“Why not stay at home?”

“And pray what shall we do here?”

“I’ll sing and play for you.”

“I am in no humor for music to-night.”

His young wife sighed, but Wilton did not notice it.

“Come, let us go over to the Grogans?” he at length said.

“I can’t say that I care much about going there,” his wife replied.

“Of course not.  You never seem to care much about going where I wish to,” said Wilton, pettishly.

His wife burst into tears, and sat sobbing for some minutes, during which time Wilton paced the room backwards and forwards, in moody silence.  After a while his wife rose up and stole quietly from the room, and in a few minutes returned, dressed, to go out.

“I am ready,” she said.

“Ready to go where?”

“To Mr. Grogan’s, of course.  You wish to go.”

“I don’t care about going now, as long as you are unwilling.”

“Yes, but I am willing, Charles, if the visit will be pleasant to you.”

“O, as to that, I don’t wish to compel you to go anywhere.”

“Indeed, Charles, I am willing to go,” said his wife, while her voice trembled and sounded harshly.  “Come, now that I am ready.  I wish to go.”

For a moment longer Wilton hesitated, and then took up his hat and went with her.  Few were the words that passed between them as they walked along the street.  Arrived at their friend’s house they both suddenly changed, and were as gay, and seemed as happy, as the gayest and the happiest.

“Shall we call in upon some pleasant friends to-night or spend our evening alone?” asked Walter Gray, taking a seat upon the sofa beside his happy wife, on the same evening that the foregoing conversation and incidents occurred.

“Let it be as you wish, Walter,” was the affectionate, truthful reply.

“As for me, Jane, I am always happy at home—­too happy, I sometimes think.”

“How, too happy?”

“Too happy to think of others, Jane.  We must be careful not to become isolated and selfish in our pleasures.  Our social character must not be sacrificed.  If it is in our power to add to the happiness of others, it is right that we should mingle in the social circle.”

“I feel the truth of what you say, Walter, and yet I find it hard to be thus unselfish.  I am sure that I would a thousand times rather remain at home and read with you a pleasant book, or sing and play for you, than to spend an evening away from our pleasant home.”

“I feel the same inclinations.  But I am unwilling to encourage them.  And yet, I am not an advocate for continual visitings.  The delights of our own sweet fireside, small though the circle be, I would enjoy often.  But these pleasures will be increased tenfold by our willingness to let others share them, and, also, by our joining in their home—­delights and social recreations.”