“What do you mean, aunt?” said she.

But her aunt was too much disturbed to speak for some minutes.

“Esther,” she at length said, speaking in a voice that still trembled, “I knew a girl, who, at your age, married an excellent, but proud-spirited young man.  Like Edward, the lover yielded too much when, as the husband, he began to be a little less considerate, and to act as if he had a will of his own, his wife set herself against him just as you set yourself against Edward.  This chafed him, although he strove to conceal his feelings.  But, in an un-guarded moment, when his young wife was unusually self-willed, a quarrel of no more serious character than the one that has occurred this evening, between you and Edward, took place.  They parted in anger as you parted, and—­”

The aunt was unable for some time to control her voice sufficiently to finish the sentence—­

“And never met again,” she at length said, with such visible emotion as betrayed more than she had wished to reveal.

“Never met again!” ejaculated Esther, a sudden fear trembling through her heart, and causing her cheeks to grow pale.

“Never!” was the solemn response.

“Why, dear aunt?  Why?” eagerly inquired Esther.

“Pride caused him,” said Mrs. Carlisle, recovering her self-possession, “after a breach had been made, to leave not only his home, but the city in which he lived.  Repenting of her ungenerous contact, his bride waited anxiously for his return at evening, but waited it vain.  Sadly enough passed the lonely hours of that dreadful night, and morning found her a sleepless watcher.  Days passed, but no word came from the unhappy wanderer from home and love.  A week, and still all was silence and mystery.  At the end of that time a letter was received from a neighbouring city, which brought intelligence to his friends that he was there, and lying dangerously ill.  By the next conveyance his almost frantic wife started for the purpose of joining him.  Alas! she was too late.  When she stood beside the bed upon which he lay, she looked only upon the inanimate form of her husband.  Death had been there before her.  Esther! thirty years have passed since then, but the anguish I felt when I stood and looked upon the cold, dead, face of my husband, in that terrible hour, time has not altogether obliterated!”

Esther had risen to her feet, and now stood with her pale lips parted, and her cheeks blanched to an ashy whiteness.

“Dear aunt is all this true?” she asked huskily, while she grasped the arm of her relative.

“Heaven knows it is too true, my child!  It was the first and, the last quarrel I had with my husband.  And now, as you value your own and Edward’s peace of mind, be warned by my sad example, and let the present unhappy difference that has occurred be quickly reconciled.  Acknowledge your error the moment you see him, and make a firm resolution that you will, under no circumstances, permit the slightest misunderstanding again to take place.  Yield to him, and you will find him ready as before to yield to you.  What he was not ready to give under the force of a demand, love will prompt him cheerfully to render.”