She did not perceive how her words jarred upon his sensitive nature. An expression of pain passed over his fine features, and he said no more for some little time. He sat down and ate his evening meal in silence. “I hope I have not offended you,” said his wife. “I do not believe it possible for you to do so,” returned he. “You ask me when I shall be rich. I have two or three inventions――one I was about to work out with Charles Peace.” “Oh the horrid man! Don’t have anything to do with him.” “I don’t intend, but he has great ingenuity nevertheless; but let that pass. The inventions I am now endeavouring to bring to perfection may turn out successful. If only one of them does so I shall be a rich man; then I suppose you will be satisfied.” “Oh yes, that would be glorious; but it’s not certain, I suppose.” “My dear, nothing is certain in this life,” he said quickly. “Positively nothing, except hard work for us all.” For some time after this both husband and wife remained silent. She cleared the supper table, and he lighted his pipe. She sat herself down by his side. Presently she said―― “Tom, I should dearly like to know who I am.” He started, and glanced quickly at her. “Who you are――you are my wife.” “Yes, I know, but who my mother was, and my father. It is strange that there should be such a mystery hanging over me.” “What puts that into your head all of a sudden?” “I don’t know, I’m sure. My mother was a lady, and I am, moreover, sure that I am one myself, although I have been brought up in a homely manner. No matter for that――I am a lady myself――you may laugh at me, but I feel like one, or rather how I imagine a lady should feel. I love all things bright and beautiful. I detest everything mean, paltry, and contemptible. You think I am discontented, but this is not so. Nevertheless, I am free to confess that I have tastes which, perhaps, will never be gratified――longings which never can be realised. Is it my fault that a dark mystery hangs over me?” “Life itself is a mystery,” he answered. “The world is full of mysteries. You must not give way to these gloomy thoughts――you must not indeed, dearest.” “No, I will not.” “My darling,” said Tom, noting the sad tone in which the reply was made, “whatever induced you to think riches must necessarily bring happiness?” “I don’t know, indeed,” replied his wife. “There are times when the monotony of this life seems more than I can bear.” “You would find the same monotony in any sphere of existence. What says the poet―― Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. But there is surely no reason, dearest, why we should endorse the sentiment.” “None whatever, Tom. You are kindness itself,” responded his wife, with a loving kiss. “By the way, I have not as yet told you that a strange gentleman called at the works to-day. He wanted to see Mrs. Maitland upon very pressing business.” “Ah, is that so? Who is he?”