cause Roderick did it, but still much inclined that way, and in any doubtful case giving him the benefit of the doubt. Between whiles she did her own work, as he his, so conscientiously that very often they scarcely saw one another all day long. But then came the blessed evenings together, which healed all the day's worries and cares. They walked out when the weather was possible, and then when the inevitable rain came on, they nestled down by the welcome fire-made more delicious, perhaps, by the beating of the storm outside. an atmosphere of literature, at least of book-loving people, looked on him with a tender awe, and kept from him everything that could annoy him, or hinder his important work; going quietly about her own, which she thought so inferior, yet which in her secret heart-despise her not, ye learned ladies!-she was woman enough not merely to do, but to enjoy doing. To some wives, and not the worst of them, half the pleasure of marriage is to be mistress of a house! The faculty of arrangement-of touching with that wonderful rod of the fairy Order all the confused elements of domestic life, and converting them into smoothness and peace; the power of government, as essential in a family as a state, of setting all the wheels working, and taking care that they are well oiled, so that the machinery is kept going; pleasing the eye and sooth-"the glass of fashion and the mould of ing the heart with a sense of comfort and of the fitness of things: all these qualities Silence possessed in a very large measure. And to use what one possesses, to have occasion for doing what one feels one can do well, is a pleasant thing to all women. "Yes, I think I rather like the rain," said Silence once as they were sitting "four feet on a fender," the lamp between them, and she was putting a stitch or two into his coat-alas! his clothes began to need mending a little, he that had been form;" but he scarcely noticed it, being absorbed in other things. "You know, dear, we were winter lovers, and half our courtship was done in snow and rain. I shall always love the rain." "My darling, you are in one thing unlike all women-at least all that I ever knew; you invariably prefer what you have, instead of what you have not. Suppose now, just for a change, you were to begin worrying my life out because I can not give you half a dozen servants and a carriage and pair, or take you out into society? My wife, do you mind being poor ?" She was a born mistress of a household, this young Mrs. Jardine; none the less so because of a something in her beyond it all, which made her often stop a moment in her daily labors to look at "the blue hills far away," to listen to the singing of the burn in the glen, or the birds in the garden, and perhaps carol a ditty herself there, when she was gathering flowers or pulling fruit, out in the open air, for they had no piano, and she would not hear of buying one till the book was done, and—and you are to be a great author, or a they had plenty of money. Plenty of money--out of a first book, by a "prentice han'!"-they must have been most innocent and ignorant souls to believe this. Yet they did. That MS. was a novel, of course; but owing to the author's small experience of life, and the difficulty he found in painting nature, thrown back out of nature into the far past, into that classic time which the young collegian, who was a good Greek scholar, fancied would be as interesting to others as it was to himself. He discussed it incessantly, in that sweet companionship which was a reflection of himself, till he almost felt like a modern Pericles, inspired by a nobler, holier, and purer Aspasia. And she-she smiled and listened; not always thinking everything perfect be "Do you? When you are a Jardine we are both Jardines, for that matter great man, some day?" "Evidently my wife does not believe the two synonymous," said Roderick, laughing and coloring. 66 'Not quite, because the author may fail; whereas the man who does his work -any work-as conscientiously as you are doing it, must always be, in one sense, a great man. Also, the one is the world's property, the other is mine." She put her arms round his neck; he leaned against her, for he was, in truth, a good deal tired. His book had been "bothering" him, and he was not used to being bothered, not accustomed to the endless labor; the perpetual struggle between impulse and perseverance, moods of errant fancy and deliberate, mechanical, matter-of-fact toil, which all professional authors understand but too well. | He might or might not have been a gen- | Roderick, sapiently. "I should be glad ius; he certainly did not think himself to sell even the first five, and get the one, poor Roderick! being always pain- money." fully alive to his own short-comings; but all the more it comforted him that his wife did think so, and had the faith in him which he had not always in himself. Human nature may be weak, but there is often a pathos in its weakness; and few laments have been more touching than that of the Prophet Mohammed, whom even the young, fair, second wife could not console for the loss of his old Cadiga. 'Ah, but it was Cadiga who believed in me." 66 That Silence Jardine believed in her Roderick might have been a mistake, even a folly; but she did believe, and it made her happy. Through all their weariness, solitude, and poverty-not actual need, but still hearing sometimes the distant bark of the "wolf" that might soon come to their door-the young husband and wife were, nevertheless, thoroughly happy. All people might not have been so not even married people, who took their stand-point in external things, thought a great deal of "What will the world say?" or delighted in material pleasures not obtainable at Blackhall. But it had been a just criticism passed by old Mrs. Grierson on Roderick's young wife, that she was "in the world, and not of it;" therefore she was happy, and she made him happy too. "Money-I am afraid I had forgotten the money," said Silence, as, indeed, she had. But for a good many days after, when, the excitement of work over, a reaction came, and Roderick looked more pale and ill than she had ever seen him, she began to count over her little store, as if by counting she could double it, and to long, day by day, for the letter which was to bring the hope of that despised necessity-pounds, shillings, and pence. Celebrated authors are usually treated with courtesy and kindliness by eminent publishers, well aware that "the value of a thing Is just as much as it will bring;" but unknown and amateur authors who rashly send their MSS. to busy firms, unto whom their small venture is a mere drop in the bucket, an unconsidered nothing, received and laid indefinitely aside, do not always meet the same consideration. Day after day Roderick and Silence stood together at their gate-somehow, without planning, it always did happen that they met together there at the precise hour when the postman might be seen slowly winding up the long road: but in vain. He seldom left them any letters: never the letter which would have been such a priceless boon. Roderick wrote a second time: a third time Silence hinted at; but he shook his head. "It's done at last!" said he, almost with a shout, as, one late autumn morning, with the scent of clematis and jas- | mine coming in at the open window, he "I am a proud man; I would as lief finished his book, writing, in his best and be the unjust judge as the woman who, neatest hand, "The End" on the final by her continual coming, wearied him page. "And yet I am half sorry! I into justice. What a strange, sad world have killed them all, or married them- it is, my darling!" made them quite comfortable, anyhowand now I rather miss them. They had grown such companions, had they not, dear?" Silence smiled; but yet, as she tenderly tied up the MS., carefully counting the pages, to be sure that none were missing, a tear fell on the last one. It was so dear to her, this first work of her husband's, done in their first year of married life, and full of so many associations. She was sure, even if it came to the twentieth edition, she should never cease to remember and cherish it, every line. "Twentieth editions do not come every day, even to celebrated authors," said And then by degrees he fell into that deep depression so much commoner to men than to women, in which women often have to stand by, quite powerless, thankful only if there still remains, untouched, that sweet nature, that pathetic appeal for sympathy, which was in Roderick's eyes when he said "my darling." But this could not last; he would have been more than human else--or less. A young man in his prime, with strong ambitions, high aspirations-all, in fact, that makes the difference between the man who wishes really to live, for this world and the next, and the man who is content to feel, or act as if he felt, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die"-for such a | myself than ever you can be with me. "That's all you know," she answered, gayly. "I may turn out to be a goodly villain with a smiling cheek,' as your Shakspeare has it." "Smiling, but just a little too pale, my "DAY AFTER DAY RODERICK AND SILENCE STOOD TOGETHER AT THEIR GATE." love-still, she did not blame him; how could she? "It is so much harder for him than for me," she argued; and perhaps it was. "I try to be good-I do try!" he would sometimes say, with an almost child-like pathos, after he had been "cross" with her. "Believe me, I am more vexed with 'villain,'" said Roderick, stroking it ten- It is not true, as some special pleaders www These sore weeks of suspense, which tried them both so much, haply taught these young people a few lessons, which they would never forget for the remainder of their lives. when followed by mutual amendment. | vague expectation of something. It was not till Silence had taken off her hat, and began to make the tea, that she saw a large carrier's parcel, with the "eminent publisher's" label outside-one of those neatly done up, innocent - looking parcels which often carry with them a stroke of absolute doom. The last and hardest came one day when they had been rather brighter than usual. Silence had persuaded her husband to walk down with her to the obnoxious cotton-mill, in which she had become much interested - having instituted, or rather carried on anew, a school for the mill girls, which had been the favorite work of Miss Jardine. 'You will let me do it, just because she did it ?" was the entreaty, which Roderick could not resist. So every Sunday, while he took the long stretch across the country which she insisted upon after the labors of the week, she had gone down to an empty room at the mill, and kept school there for two hours. To-day the girls recognized her with delight, and her husband, pleased with her pleasure, glad, too, of any relief in his monotonous life, had talked to the "hands," examined the machinery, and acknowledged there might be a worse lot in life than to be master of a mill. "At one time I wanted to be an engineer, but my mother thought the profession not 'genteel' enough. She would have put me into 'the house,' but though I loved machinery, I hated trade. You would not have wondered had you ever known my grandfather Paterson-" Roderick stopped. dead-and he was a clever man, and an honest, in his own way.” It was one of the things which Silence most loved in her husband, part of the infinite respect deepening every day, which would have made her pass over ever so many little faults in him, that she never heard him speak ill-naturedly or unkindly of any human being. "Let me open it," said Silence-and her husband let her. It was a civil note, a very civil note, placed on the top of the MS., and expressing great regret that the latter was found "unsuitable." In reading it Roderick's hands shook nervously, and his color went and came. "Never mind; it does not matter; it was what I should have expected," was all he said. "No, it does not matter," said Silence, firmly. "They only say it is 'unsuitable' to them. It may suit some one else. Let us try." "Yes, let us try," echoed Roderick, mechanically, his hand before his eyes. "And if we fail-" “‘We fail; But screw our courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail.'" "My Lady Macbeth!" said he, scarcely able to forbear a smile at the sweet broken English, and the brave heart which tried so hard to keep up his own. "Then let us once more go together to 'murder sleep'-or only a publisher. Whom shall the MS. be sent to next?" What endless power of reaction, what unconquerable hope, there is in youth! We elders often look back on our own, wondering at the daring ignorance that could breast such unknown monster waves, or fancy we could ride in our little cock-boats over seas where many a good ship has gone hopelessly down. Yet so it was, and so it always will be. That very day-for Silence never let any grass grow under her feet-she re "I almost wish I had been in our firm, packed the MS. and sent it to another or some other, that you might 'walk in silk attire, And siller hae to spare.' But, after all, my wife, you would not have cared to see me a millionaire and a money-grubber-Grub Street seems a deal nearer my mark." They both laughed, and entered the house gayly-almost for the first time without looking on the hall table, for the house. From whence it came back at once, unopened, as all arrangements were made up; in fact, the head of the firm was just starting for Switzerland. He, honest man-for publishers are but men, though poor authors will not always believe it-being, perhaps, a little worn out with a year of worries-the genus irritabile are the most worrying folk aliveadded a well-meant but quite unnecessary sting to the effect that "he would advise the author to try another tack- absolutely scouted-that they should go historical novels never sold." away for a few days: accept the latest of the many invitations of good old Mrs. Grierson, and visit her-not at Richerden, but at the coast. "Then I had better burn it," said Roderick, quietly. But as he advanced to the fire there was an expression in his face which his wife had never seen before. She flung herself before him in an agony of tears. "You shall not. It is mine, mine, whether the world likes it or not. We will never give in; we will try and try again. Don't you remember Bruce and the spider?" "A good simile; because in the mean time I might lie in this horrid cave and starve. Thank you, my dear. No, I had rather go out, take my sword in my hand, and die fighting-die fighting!" He laughed loudly, and then, utterly breaking down, he too burst into tears. "I am ashamed of myself," he said at last. "But you do not know-no woman could know-how terrible this sort of life is to a man. To sit with my hands bound, and watch the tide come in, wave after wave-the tide that will drown us both. Oh, if I could go anywhere, do anything! But I can do nothing, I was brought up to nothing. If I had ten sons"-he spoke wildly, nor noticed the sudden change of the downcast face"ay, and a fortune for each of them, I would still bring them up to earn their honest bread. Mother, mother, you have been very cruel to me!" It was months since he had named his mother or any of his family. By common consent he and she had kept silence, even between one another, on this point, and they did so still. Without any words, Silence laid her husband's head on her shoulder, soothing him less like a wife than a mother-or rather a combination of both. The worshipped ideal, the "queen" of boyish fancy, had long ago melted into the mere woman-not perfect, but yet trying hard to be "as good as she could," both for love's sake, and for the sake of that Love Divine which is at the root of it all. And so she was gradually becoming what a man so sorely needs his wife to becomfort, solace, strength; his fellow-laborer as well as his counsellor; neither superior nor inferior to himself, only different. And in this character she made the wisest suggestion that could have been made, and which the day before he had "You know she said all the Richerden people will have left by now," added Silence, hesitating. "That means, we need not fear meeting any of our relations or friends, we tabooed folk," answered Roderick, bitterly. Nevertheless, in his present condition, the very thought of change had a certain relief in it. "She is a dear soul I told you you old Mrs. Grierson. would like her, and you did.” "Very much." "Suppose, then, we were to strain a point and go?" Silence did not tell him that straining a point was, as regarded money matters, more difficult than he knew; but she did somehow manage it, and they went; not, however, until, after many consultations, the luckless MS. had again gone forth on its quest for a publisher; this time almost without hope, but simply in the carrying out of that "dogged determination" which Roderick declared he now for the first time recognized in his wife. "If I had had it," he said, wistfully, as they sat together on the deck of one of those river steamboats where all the désagrémens of overcrowding and holidaymaking can not neutralize the pleasure of sea and sky, mountain and loch-"if I had had it, how much more I might have done!" "You never know you have not got it till you try." "My dear heart!" In the sanctity of very private life Roderick sometimes called his wife "my heart," or "my soul," which was a great deal nearer the truth than many an idle pet name. "Oh, this is delicious!" said he, as he drank in the salt air, and amused himself with Silence's delight in a beauty which she declared made Scotland "better than Switzerland," the broad estuary running up into long hill-encircled lochs, where porpoises tumbled, and white gulls wheeled screaming overhead, and the lights and shadows came and went, producing "effects" such as are seen nowhere but in this rainy, sunshiny land-a country which beyond all others seems to be a country with a soul, especially on its coast. And Silence, who, though brought up among |