Why had he married her? Godfrey Harland had often asked himself this question and been unable to answer it. He was the last man in the world who should have encumbered himself with a wife. But after his return from America, he had met this girl living quietly with her widowed father, and had fallen desperately in love with her purity and innocence, so different from what he had been accustomed to. And Iris had believed him to be all that he was not. His varied experiences, and able mode of relating the wonders of his travels, had fascinated her girlish heart, and made her accept him as her life-long companion and friend. But six months of married life had undeceived her. By that time, reverses had come upon them, and the man’s brutal and selfish nature had revealed itself. His passion for her had been simply an infatuation. He had been delighted with his pretty toy at first, but, like a spoiled child, he spurned it, when it had become familiar to him. He had wounded her deeply by his indifference; he had frightened her with his violence and threats, but it was his insults that had stabbed her to the heart, and killed her respect for him. Had he taken a horse-whip and struck her (as he was quite capable of doing), she might still have forgiven him, but an insult to a woman’s honour is never forgotten, and seldom pardoned. Many women will slave for their husbands night and day--they will starve themselves to keep the wolf from the door, and give up home, relations, luxury, everything, for the man they love. But as soon as a man returns his wife’s affection by falsely impugning her honour--when he accuses her of the infidelity of which he alone has been guilty--he has severed the last link that bound them together, and has only himself to thank, if in the future her outraged feelings find relief in the very consolation he has unwarrantably accused her of seeking. Such was the state of things between Godfrey Harland and his wife. A sullen sense of being in the wrong on his side, and a great contempt for all he did and said on hers--and only one wish shared between them in common, that they had never met! ‘Here is a letter for you,’ said Mrs Harland, as she placed it in his hand. He opened and read it through in silence, although he could not conceal the satisfaction it gave him. ‘A man wants to see me on business. I must go out to-night, and at once. Is there any more brandy in the cupboard, Iris?’ said Godfrey, as he thrust the letter into his coat pocket. ‘Is it advisable you should drink any more if you are going to transact business?’ she inquired calmly. She had observed her husband’s expression on reading the letter, and his ready concealment of it, and she did not believe it treated of business. But she did not say so. If her marriage had done nothing else for her, it had taught her to conceal her thoughts.