Now was her chance; not by reproaches, but by sympathy, and, if possible, by planting some venom towards his wife in his heart.
"Tristram, dear boy, why did you not tell me?
Did you not know I would have been delighted at anything--if it pleased you ?" And she looked down, and sighed.

"I always made it my pleasure to understand you, and to promote whatever seemed for your good." And in his astonishment at this attitude Tristram forgot to recall the constant scenes and reproaches, and the paltry little selfishnesses of which he had been the victim during the year their--friendship--had lasted.

He felt somehow soothed.

Here was some one who was devoted to him, even if his wife were not! "You are a dear, Laura," he said.
"And now you must tell me if you are really happy--Tristram." She lingered over his name.

"She is so lovely--your wife--but looks very cold.