"That's right, my girl; I think I may trust you; you've the same quiet way your mother had. But it will be a hard case for you to say no to your husband, Barbara; for, dearly as you may love him now, he will be dearer still to you by-and-by, when time has hallowed the tie between you, and you are used to each other's ways. Then, Barbara, it will go hard with you to refuse him any thing; but for your children's sake, if you are blessed with any, it will be your bounden duty not to go against your uncle's will." Barbara renewed her promise, and a few days saw her the happy, trusting, hoping wife of Paul Chepstowe. Months verged into years, and her hopes had become certainties; the timid girl who clung to her father's threshold, even when leaving it for her new home, and with him who was more to her than all the world beside, was now a fair matron, serene in the assured dignity of her position, calm in her husband's love. Paul and Barbara were very happy, and the world had gone well with them. Their own wants and wishes were moderate, and far within their means; their infant family throve, and the business prospered with a steady increase which promised to be permanent. What more could they desire? Alas! old Mr. Cox's fears had been prophetic; Paul had extended his concern by the assistance of Barbara's dowry, and now thought he could speculate most advantageously on her uncle's legacy were it at his disposal. "God knows, my love!" he said, "I only wish to make what I can for our children; I am truly happy in our present circumstances; but with an increasing family it is incumbent on us to look about us, and I see a very good opening. I could lay out that property of yours." "_Ours_, dear Paul!" "No, Barbara; if it were mine I should not have hesitated, I can assure you; the money is yours, and yours only; I have nothing to do with it: but, as I was saying, you may double that money if you like." "Of course I should, but it gives us a very good interest now--two hundred a year." "Pshaw! what is that? To hear you talk, it might be thousands instead of a trumpery couple of hundreds." "Well, but Paul, as we live, that income nearly maintains us; and--" "I shall always be able to maintain my wife and children, if any." "I pray you may, dear; but certainly this money has so far assisted you, as you have expended comparatively little on us." "I am quite aware of the assistance _your_ fortune has been to me, Mrs. Chepstowe." "Paul!" "But with all due deference to your father's, your uncle's, and your own united wisdom, I can not help feeling that it is a painful thing to be trammeled in my endeavors to assist my children; I am in an inferior position." "My dear love, how can you say such cruel things?"