For hours after her husband's senses were locked in slumber, she lay wakeful and weeping.

He understood not, if he remarked the fact, why her cheeks had less color and her eyes less brightness on the morning that succeeded to this, on Madeline's part, never forgotten evening.
We need not present a scene from the sixth, the seventh, or even the twentieth day of Madeline's married life.

All moved on with a kind of even tenor.

Order--we might almost say, mercantile order--reigned throughout the household.

And yet, shadows were filling more and more heavily over the young wife's feelings.