“We’ve not quarrelled yet, Aunt Hannah, for all your fears,” said the young wife, three or four months after her marriage.

“For which I am truly thankful,” replied Aunt Hannah.  “Still, I would say now, as I did before, ‘Bear and forbear.’”

“That is, I must bear every thing and forbear in every thing.  I hardly think that just, aunt.  I should say that James ought to do a little of this as well as me.”

“Yes, it is his duty as well as yours.  But you should not think of his duty to you, Maggy, only of your duty to him.  That is the most dangerous error into which you can fall, and one that will be almost certain to produce unhappiness.”

“Would you have a wife never think of herself?”

“The less she thinks of herself, perhaps, the better; for the more she thinks of herself, the more she will love herself.  But the more she thinks of her husband, the more she will love him and seek to make him happy.  The natural result of this will be, that her husband will feel the warmth and perceive the unselfishness of her love; this will cause him to lean toward her with still greater tenderness, and prompt him to yield to her what otherwise he might have claimed for himself.”

“Then it is the wife who must act the generous, self-sacrificing part?”

“If I could speak as freely to James as I can speak to you, Maggy, I should not fail to point out his duty of bearing and forbearing, as plainly as I point out yours.  All should be mutual, of course.  But this can never be, if one waits for the other.  If you see your duty, it is for you to do it, even if he should fail in his part.”

“I don’t know about that, aunt.  I think, as you said just now, that all this is mutual.”

“I am sorry you cannot or will not understand me, Maggy,” replied Aunt Hannah.

“I am sorry too, aunt; but I certainly do not.  However, don’t, pray, give yourself any serious concern about James and me.  I assure you that we are getting along exceedingly well; and why this should not continue is more than I can make out.”

“Well, dear, I trust that it may.  There is no good reason why it should not.  You both have virtues enough to counterbalance all defects of character.”

On the evening of that very day, as the young couple sat at the tea-table, James Canning said, as his wife felt, rather unkindly, at the same time that there was a slight contraction of his brow—­

“You seem to be very much afraid of your sugar, Maggy.  I never get a cup of tea or coffee sweet enough for my taste.”

“You must have a sweet palate.  I am sure it is like syrup, for I put in several large lumps of sugar,” replied Margaret, speaking in a slightly offended tone.

“Taste it, will you?” said Canning, pushing his cup across the table with an impatient air.

Margaret sipped a little from the spoon, and then, with an expression of disgust in her face, said—­