But hope, bright hope is ever the blessing of youth as of age, and with the morning dawn gladdened the heart of the young wife with its peaceful influence, and whispered that her husband meant not the cruel words he had spoken, and that all would yet be well. At an early hour the carriage was at the door, and Annette was borne once more to the arms of her parents. She hoped, but dared not ask her husband to accompany her, and it was with a heavy sigh and a starting tear that, after handing her into the carriage, she saw him once more ascend the marble steps, and then, as the carriage drove off, kissing his hand to her, re-enter the house. In the fond welcome of home Annette lost the sorrow which already touched her young heart. As she viewed each dear familiar spot, her marriage seemed but a dream. From room to room she flew with the gladness of a bird—the kitchen—the nursery—the dear old school-room, all felt her light footstep now rapidly sweeping the keys of the piano as she glided past—now chasing the little kitten from “mother’s” work-basket—now releasing her pet canary from its wiry prison, to perch upon her finger—and finally seating herself upon a low cushion at the feet of her mother, with the shaggy, sleepy head of old Rover in her lap, she prepared to answer some of the many questions poured upon her. And what a proud, happy mother was Mrs. Doily at that moment—laughing and crying at the same moment as she looked upon her dear, darling Annette. How many affectionate inquiries she had to make about her new son-in-law—what plans she laid for the future—why did not Mr. Eccleson come with her? But she knew he would soon—and Annette must stay to dinner; yes, the carriage must go back without her, she had been away from them so long they could not spare her to-day; and Mr. Eccleson would come to dinner—it was lucky, for they were going to have boiled turkey and oysters, and the nicest, fattest pair of ducks she ever saw. But Annette reluctantly excused herself—they were to receive their wedding visits, and she must go—some other day, soon, very soon she would come. And kissing them all a dozen times, she sprung into the carriage and returned home with a lightened heart—for it could not be that her husband would willingly deprive her of so much enjoyment as that one brief hour had given her. * * * * * It is needless to trace, day by day, and hour by hour, the thralls which gradually tightened around the kind, loving heart of Annette, who passively yielded herself to the selfish demands of her husband.