While not markedly neglecting her, my brother had evidently ceased to take that pleasure in her company which might reasonably have been expected in any case under the circumstances of a recent marriage, and a thousand times more so when his wife was so loving and beautiful a creature as Constance Temple.

He appeared little except at meals, and not even always at lunch, shutting himself up for the most part in his morning-room or study and playing continually on the violin.

It was in vain that we attempted even by means of his music to win him back to a sweeter mood.

Again and again I begged him to allow me to accompany him on the pianoforte, but he would never do so, always putting me off with some excuse.

Even when he sat with us in the evening, he spoke little, devoting himself for the most part to reading.
His books were almost always Greek or Latin, so that I am ignorant of the subjects of his study; but he was content that either Constance or I should play on the pianoforte, saying that the melody, so far from distracting his attention, helped him rather to appreciate what he was reading.