The young woman smiled and nodded; then they walked slowly home together. “I hope you have not been dull to-day,” said Tom, when the two entered the parlour. “I don’t like to see you dull.” “I have been as lively as usual,” she answered. “Umph, that’s not saying much, darling,” returned the husband in a tone of banter. “Not much, you’ll admit. At present the place is new and strange to you. In time you will be more used to it.” “Shall I?” she murmured. “Why of course you will.” “Make haste and get rich, Tom dear; then we can have a grand house in London.” His countenance fell as he listened to her. For a long time she had appeared discontented with her lot, and this had been a sore trouble to Gatliffe, who found, as others had found before him, that matrimony was not all smooth sailing. As yet there had been no storm, but distant rumblings of thunder had been heard. He drew the beautiful face of his young wife towards him, and kissed it with a fondness which spoke more eloquently than words. “My dear Aveline,” he murmured, “our little house is to me more beautiful than a palace. The reason is plain enough――it contains you.” She looked up into his face and smiled faintly. “And I am sure you are of the same opinion,” he added. “It is well enough, Tom, but――――” “But what, dear?” “Oh nothing; the time will come, let us hope, when we shall own a grand mansion and have all sorts of beautiful things.” The young engineer looked troubled. This was not the first time by many that he had heard her express a similar wish. “I don’t know what to make of her,” he muttered to himself. “Of late a change appears to have come over her.” “Look here, Aveline,” he said, more solemnly, “mark what I say; I don’t think you will be ever happier than you are now. It is not the place――it is not grandeur that ensures happiness――it is a contented mind; that you have.” “Well, I hope I have.” “You ought. I have; your beauty makes my heart glad, your love makes earth heaven to me.” “Mercy on us, what a speech after four years of matrimony! Oh, you dear old fellow,” she ejaculated, clapping her hands together――“dear good old Tom!” He laughed outright. “Go on,” he exclaimed. “Well, then, I will. Shall I tell you that I long for this great bright world that you despise?” “Then I don’t, and there’s the difference. If we were rich and lived in the great world you speak of so rapturously, you would belong to so many others. Others would delight in your society and follow you with praise, and then I should be jealous. Here, I have you all to myself, which is the very thing I desire.” “Will it be very long before you are rich?” she enquired carelessly. “My darling, how can I possibly tell, and after all what does it matter? How often have I told you that riches do not bring happiness?” “It may be so, but I should like to try.”