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“Oh, Mary, dear, where did you have the old chair and clock placed? Was I not fortunate to find them?”

“Very,” replied Mary, with forced interest; “although I hardly know what you will do with them. I had them put in the shed for the present.”

“In the shed!” exclaimed Arthur; “but you are right, Mary, they need a little rubbing off; please to let Janet attend to them this morning, and I will show you the very places where they used to stand in the parlour. How delighted I shall be to see the old clock in its accustomed corner, and to seat myself in the very chair where I have so often sat with my dear mother!”

Mary uttered an involuntary, exclamation of horror.

“Why, Arthur, you do not really intend to place those hideous old things in our parlour?”

“Certainly I do. I see nothing hideous in them. They are worth all our fashionable furniture put together. What is your objection to them, Mary?”

“I have every objection to them,” was her almost indignant reply. “They would form the most ludicrous contrast to the rest of our furniture.”

“I see nothing ludicrous or improper in putting them in their old places,” said Arthur, warmly. “They are dear to me as having belonged to my parents and I cannot see why you should wish to deny me the pleasure of having them where I can enjoy the recollections which they recall.”

“Put them in the garret, or in your own little room where you keep your books, if you like,” answered Mary; “but if you have any regard to my feelings, you will keep them out of my sight. I think the sacrifice which I make in living in this old-fashioned place is enough, without requiring me to ornament my parlour with furniture which was in use before I was born. However, I do not expect much consideration for my opinions and tastes;” and, overpowered with a mixed feeling of indignation and regret for the warmth with which she had spoken, Mary burst into tears.

“You have certainly showed little regard for my feelings,” was Arthur’s irritated reply; “and perhaps, I may also say with truth, what your words imply; I have little reason to expect regard and consideration;” and hastily leaving the room, he was on his way to his office before Mary had composed herself sufficiently to descend to the breakfast room.

“Has Mr. Hartwell breakfasted?” she inquired, with surprise, as she saw the solitary cup and plate which Janet had placed for her.

“He took no breakfast, ma’am. I think he was in great haste to reach the office.”

“He has a great deal to attend to, just now,” replied her mistress, unwilling that Janet should suspect the truth; but as soon as the girl left the room, her excited feelings again found vent in tears.

Bitterly did she regret what had passed. It was the first time that harsh words had been uttered by either and they seemed to have lifted the veil which had long been drawn over thoughts and feelings which had tended to dissimilarity and separation.

The year passed in rapid review before her, and she felt that there was a great and fearful change, the cause of which she could not define, for she had no distinct charges to bring against Arthur, and as yet, she attached little blame to herself. The unkind manner in which she had spoken that morning, was indeed regretted; but this seemed the only error. It was certainly unreasonable in Arthur to expect her to yield willingly to such strange whim.

But he no longer loved her, she was sure of this; and proof after proof of his inattention to her wishes, and neglect of her feelings, came to her mind until she was almost overwhelmed with the view of her own misery, which imagination thus placed before her.

And this was the anniversary of their marriage! One short year before and they had exchanged those mutual vows which then appeared unchangeable. How soon happiness had fled! And to think that this climax of their troubles should happen upon this very day, which ought to have been consecrated to tender remembrances!–this was the hardest thought of all; but probably, Arthur did not even remember the day. As these and similar thoughts passed through Mary’s mind, her tears redoubled, and fearful that Janet would surprise her in this situation, she rose hastily to go to her own room. In doing this her eye suddenly rested upon a small parcel addressed to herself, which lay upon her little work-table, and taking it in her hand she passed quickly up the stairs, just in time to avoid the scrutinizing eye of Janet, who, shrewdly suspecting that something was wrong, had resolved to be uncommonly attentive to her young mistress, in the hope of discovering the cause of the trouble.