At the breakfast table on the next morning, the husband and wife were coldly polite to each other.  When the meal was completed, Canning retired to his office, and his wife sought her chamber to weep.  The latter half repented of what she had done, but her contrition was not hearty enough to prompt to a confession of her fault.  The fact that she considered her husband to blame, stood in the way of this.

Reserve and coldness marked the intercourse of the unhappy couple for several weeks; and then the clouds began to break, and there were occasional glimpses of sunshine.

But, before there was a clear sky, some trifling occurrence put them again at variance.  From this time, unhappily, one circumstance after another transpired to fret them with each other, and to separate, rather than unite them.  Daily, Canning grew more cold and reserved, and his wife met him in a like uncompromising spirit.  Even their lovely child—­their darling blue-eyed Lilly—­with her sweet little voice and smiling face, could not soften their hearts toward each other.

To add fuel to this rapidly enkindling fire of discord, was the fact that Mrs. Canning was on particularly intimate terms with the wife of a man toward whom her husband entertained a settled and well-grounded dislike, and visited her more frequently than she did any one of her friends.  He did not interfere with her in the matter, but it annoyed him to hear her speak, occasionally, of meeting Mr. Richards at his house, and repeating the polite language he used to her, when he detested the character of Richards, and had not spoken to him for more than a year.

One day Mrs. Canning expressed a wish to go in the evening to a party.

“It will be impossible for me to go to-night, or, indeed, this week,” Canning said.  “I am engaged in a very important case, which will come up for trial on Friday, and it will take all my time properly to prepare for it.  I shall be engaged every evening, and perhaps late every night.”

Mrs. Canning looked disappointed, and said she thought he might spare her one evening.

“You know I would do so, Margaret, with pleasure,” he replied, “but the case is one involving too much to be endangered by any consideration.  Next week we will go to a party.”

When Canning came home to tea, he found his wife dressed to go out.

“I’m going to the party, for all you can’t go with me,” said she.

“Indeed!  With whom are you going?”

“Mrs. Richards came in to see me after dinner, when I told her how much disappointed I was about not being able to go to the party to-night.  She said that she and her husband were going, and that it would give them great pleasure to call for me.  Am I not fortunate?”

“But you are not going with Mr. and Mrs. Richards?”

“Indeed I am!  Why not?”

“Margaret!  You must not go.”

“Must not, indeed!  You speak in quite a tone of authority, Mr. Canning;” and the wife drew herself up haughtily.