As for Madeline, she rather shrunk, at first, from his advances.  There was a coldness in his sphere that chilled her; a rigid propriety of speech and action that inspired too much respect and deference.  Gradually, however, love for the maiden, (if by such a term it might be called) fused his hard exterior, and his manner became so softened, gentle and affectionate, that she yielded up to him a most precious treasure—­the love of her young and trusting heart.

Just twenty years old, as we have said, was Madeline when she passed, as the bride of Mr. Leslie, from the warm home-nest in which she had reposed so happily, to become the mistress of an elegant mansion.  Though in age a woman, she was, in many things, but a child in feelings.  Tenderly cared for and petted by her father, her spirit had been, in a measure, sustained by love as an aliment.

One like Madeline is not fit to be the wife of such a man as Edward Leslie.  For him, a cold, calculating woman of the world were a better companion.  One who has her own selfish ends to gain; and who can find, in fashion, gaiety, or personal indulgence, full compensation for a husband’s love.

Madeline was scarcely the bride of a week, ere shadows began to fall upon her heart; and the form that interposed itself between her and the sunlight, was the form of her husband.  As a daughter, love had ever gone forth in lavish expression.  This had been encouraged by all the associations of home.  But, from the beginning of her wedded life, she felt the manner of her husband like the weight of a hand on her bosom, repressing her heart’s outgushing impulses.

It was on the fifth evening of their marriage, about the early twilight hour, and Madeline, alone, almost for the first time since morning, sat awaiting the return of her husband.  Full of pleasant thoughts was her mind, and warm with love her heart.  A few hours of separation from Edward had made her impatient to meet him again.  When, at length, she heard him enter, she sprang to meet him, and, with an exclamation of delight, threw her arms about his neck.

There was a cold dignity in the way this act was received by Edward Leslie, that chilled the feelings of his wife.  Quickly disengaging her arms, she assumed a more guarded exterior; yet, trying all the while, to be cheerful in manner.  We say “trying;” for a shadow had fallen on her young heart—­and, to seem cheerful was from an effort.  They sat down, side by side, in the pensive twilight close to the windows, through which came fragrant airs; and Madeline laid her hand upon that of her husband.  Checked in the first gush of feelings, she now remained silent, yet with her yearning spirit intently listening for words of tenderness and endearment.

“I have been greatly vexed to-day.”

These were the very words he uttered.  How chilly they fell upon the ears of his expectant wife.

“What has happened?” she asked, in a voice of concern.