It seemed to him a long time before she was ready to sit down with her sewing at the table, upon which the soft, pleasant light of their shaded lamp was falling.

At last she came, with her small work-basket in her mind.

Topmost of all its contents was a French novel.

When Ellis saw this, there came doubts and misgivings across his heart.
"Cara," said he quickly, and in a tone of forced cheerfulness, taking up, at the same time, his volume of Prescott,--"I brought this book home on purpose to read aloud.

I dipped into it, to-day, and found it so exceedingly interesting, that I deferred the pleasure of its perusal until I could share it with you." Now, under all the circumstances, it cost Ellis considerable effort to appear cheerful and interested, while saying this.
"What book is it ?" returned Cara, in a chilling tone, while her eyes were fixed upon her husband's face, with any thing but a look of love.
"The first volume of Prescott's History of Mexico, one of the most charming"-- "Pho! I don't want to hear your dull old histories!" said Cara, with a contemptuous toss of the head.
"Dull old histories!" retorted Ellis, whose patience was now gone.
"Dull old histories! You don't know what you are talking about.