"Oh, Hannah! how sorry I am I didn't learn to keep house. Paul loves coffee so dearly; and our servant doesn't know any thing. This morning I tried myself, and instead of being clear like yours; it was just like mud. I tried not to cry; but it was hard to be blamed when I had done my best. There was nothing on the table fit to eat; and so Paul went off to get his breakfast at a restaurant. I'm sorry now we tried to keep house, for the servants here are so ignorant." "Paul's patience will not last long under such circumstances," remarked young Wallingford gravely; but "Hannah how is it that her letters are so much worse than those she sent me in college." The woman's cheek flushed; but at last she acknowledged that it was a task Gerty was very unwilling to enter upon. "I insisted." she said, "that she should write all the words on the slate; and then we looked them out in the dictionary. Sometimes it took a day or two before the sheet was ready to send off, she had to copy it so many times." "And was this what took her so many evenings to Mr. Monroe?" "Yes, he teaches the school you know; but Gerty wouldn't attend because she was so much behind the rest. He came here one day to buy some fresh butter, and I made bold to talk with him about her education. Finally he agreed to teach her three evenings in a week, on condition she would come regularly and try to improve. I paid him in butter and eggs; and she was getting on finely, till Mr. Dudley came." Mr. Wallingford paced the floor in great excitement. "It is even worse than I feared," he exclaimed; "but regret is useless now. If I had done my duty,—" "Don't fret about that, Edward. If you had put her to the best school, she would not have applied herself; now she feels the need of an education, she will turn to her books, and her husband has promised to teach her." He shook his head. "I didn't know the dear child had so much conscience," urged Hannah, turning to the letter again. "You must be careful what you write," was Edward's caution. "Paul will doubtless see the letter. I shall write at once recommending Paul to take a slip in Dr. Gilbert's pew, offering to pay the rent. She can attend then if he does not." CHAPTER VII. BROKEN PROMISES. THREE months later let us look in upon the girl-bride. It was a warm morning in the middle of May; but poor Gertrude thought not of the weather. She was sitting in her own chamber curled up in a lounging chair, her head resting on the arm, crying as if her heart would break; and truly the scenes through which she had passed during the last twenty-four hours would have brought grief to many a wife of more mature years.