Husband, home, even her very existence,--all belonged to her.

Here was her place, and here the man she loved and understood.

Oh, how all her so-called friends had mocked and deceived her! What a life was hers!--a life which consisted only in being the wife of a man she did not love, in keeping his house, and bearing his children, surrounded on every side by an unwholesome atmosphere of form, ceremony, and selfishness.
Closer and closer she clung to the broad breast whereon she lay, and that heart, so well drilled and confined, ran over in one supreme moment of mingled happiness and anguish, while the recollections of her youthful love passed through her sobbing heart.
"It was not my fault--it was not my fault!" she repeated plaintively, like a child who has had the misfortune to break something.
He lifted his hard heavy hand, and laying it on her head, passed it gently over her hair.

Now he understood it all, but not a word passed his lips.
"Lena, Lena!" cried the pastor from the door, "you must come and see what I have found.

Here are twins.