"Well, that's a bad thing; but it's curable. At all events, giving way to moping and misery won't help it. Many men have begun their married life in wretchedness, and emerged, when they least expected it, into sunshine. Here are two young people who have not known each other above a couple of months, both of whom have very possibly been spoiled beforehand, and they arrive each with their own particular stock of whims and fancies, which they declare shall be carried out by the other. It takes time to rub down all the angles and points, and to provide for the regular working of the machinery; and it is never done by a jump. You've fine material to work upon too; if Mrs. Churchill were vulgar or uneducated, or did not care for you, you would have great difficulties to contend with. But as she is exactly the reverse of all this, she ought to be easily managed. Don't you understand that in these matters one or the other must have the upperhand? and that one should be the husband! The supremacy once asserted, all works well; not until then, and generally the struggle, though sharp, is very short. Every thing is wrong, and the whole machine is out of gear. You've let her have her own way too much, my friend. You must tighten the curb and see the result." "If you were a horseman, Harding," said Frank with a dreary smile, "you would know that tightening the curb sometimes produces the worst of rebellious vices--rearing!" "Oh, no fear of that; no fear of that. Try it! You really must do something, Frank; I can't bear to see you giving way like this. You must assert yourself, my good fellow, and at once; for though it may be bad now, it will be ten times worse hereafter, and you'll bitterly rue not having taken my advice." And George Harding went home and told, his wife what he had done, and assured her that she would find matters speedily set to rights in Great Adullam Street now. And Frank Churchill walked home, pondering on the advice he had just received and finally determining within himself to adopt it. He supposed he had been weak and wanting in proper self-respect. Harding was always the reflex of his wife's sentiments, and doubtless that whole set of wretched tabbies had been pitying him as a poor spiritless creature. He would take Harding's advice and bring the matter to an issue at once. He went into his little study and had just seated himself at his desk to commence his work when Barbara entered the room. She was dressed in her bonnet and shawl; her eyes were swollen and there were traces of recent tears still on her cheeks; the muscles round her mouth were working visibly, and her whole frame was quivering with excitement. As she closed the door behind her, she seemed to control herself with one great effort, then walking straight to the desk she said, in a broken and trembling voice, "I want you to answer me a question."