"I don't like them there Roman letters a bit—they brings more bile to master than a lord mayor's dinner would do."
"Perhaps so, Robert; but he has not many."
"I think it's pretty thick, four within a fortnight, and every one a shaking him down, as it were, and making him an old man afore his time." ‘
"He does look old," said Mary to herself, as she closed the door; "and if these letters come so frequently, poor Isabella has more cause for jealousy than I apprehended. It may be something amiss in his affairs! Would it were!—the dear creature could lose her new-found luxuries much better than her husband's affections!"
Mary sate down, silent tears rolling over her cheeks, wondering how all would end, and seeking, in vain, to find what was her duty in a case affecting her so nearly, yet, in many respects, precluding her interference, since there was no quarrel to make up, no injury to complain of. Perhaps the same thoughts were passing the mind of Isabella; but her grief was necessarily more acute, and its expression more vivid. After Mary had withdrawn, she tried to meditate, tried to pray, and especially tried so to chasten her heart that, come what would, it should never again rebel against the husband she loved so entirely, and whose sorrows demanded her pity, whatever were their cause. Whilst absorbed in
