“Harriet, with all her want of reflection and in-sight into character, was a young woman of strong feelings, and loved, when she did love, with something like blind idolatry.  Thus she loved her husband.  He was every thing to her, and she believed him as near perfection as a mortal could well be.  The first few months of her married life passed swiftly away in the enjoyment of as high a degree of felicity as her mind seemed capable of appreciating.  After that, a shadow fell upon her spirit—­dim and almost imperceptible at first, but gradually becoming denser and more palpable.  Harriet had noticed, from the first, that her husband but rarely spoke of his family, and always evaded any questions that a natural curiosity prompted her to make.  If he received any letter from home, he carefully concealed the fact from her.  The wealth, respectability, and high standing of his family made Harriet, as a matter of course, feel desirous of bearing a more intimate relation to its members than she now did.  The more she thought about this, the less satisfied did she feel.  It was the marked dislike manifested by her husband to any reference to his family, that first caused a coldness to pass over the heart of the young wife, and a shadow to dim the bright sunshine of her spirits; for it induced the thought that something might be wrong.  Once give such a thought birth, and let mystery and doubt continue to harass the mind, and peace is gone for ever.  A thousand vague suspicions will enter, and words, looks, and actions will have a signification never apparent before.

“Thus it was with my young friend, ere six months had passed since her wedding-day.  To increase her anxious doubts, her husband seemed to grow cold towards her.  This might all be imagination, but the idea, once in possession of her mind, found numberless sustaining evidences.  He went out more frequently in the evening and stayed out later than at first.  Sometimes he would sit silent and abstracted, and only reply in monosyllables to her questions or remarks.

“One day he came home to dinner, looking graver than usual.  But, during the meal, there was an evident desire on his part to appear cheerful and unconcerned; he talked more freely than usual, and even made many light and jesting remarks.  But the veil assumed was too thin.  Harriet’s eyes saw through it, and rested only upon the sombre reality beneath.  As they were rising from the table, he said,

“’Harriet, dear!  I must run on to New York this afternoon, on business.  The interest of a client in a large estate there requires my immediate presence in that city.’

“Eaverson did not look his wife steadily in the face as he said this although he plainly tried to do so.  But this she did not remark at the time.  Her mind only rested upon the fact of his going away.

“‘How long will you be gone?’ she asked in a choking voice.

“’I will try and be back to-morrow.  If not, you will at least see me home on the day after.’