"You must both come home and have supper with us," said Lady Malvern to her nephew and his wife. "Oh, yes, I shall take no denial; and now, Jasper, will you drive Cynthia and her sister back to town? I mean Hilda to accompany me." Jasper was all smiles and good-humor. He was willing to accede to any arrangement which could add to the pleasures of the day, and Hilda, in whose heart a faint hope had lingered that she and her husband might have gone home together, followed Lady Malvern to her carriage with a little sigh. The whole party was soon driving home. Lady Malvern and Hilda had a small victoria to themselves. As soon as ever they left the rest of the party, the older woman turned and gave a full glance at the girl by her side. "Hilda," she said suddenly, "you look better than you did this morning." "Oh, I feel better," she replied. "You have done me lots of good," she continued, raising her eyes with an affectionate light in them to Lady Malvern's kind face. "I am delighted to have helped you, my love," replied the elder lady; "and now, Hilda, I want to say something. You have been married very little over three months. It is a very common illusion with girls to imagine that married life is a time of perpetual bliss." Hilda opened her lips to say something, but Lady Malvern interrupted. "My dear," she said, "you must hear me out. Married life is not a bed of roses, and the first year which a young couple spend together is generally the hardest of all." "What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Quentyns. "Why the first year?"