Among the many valuable qualities possessed by Katharine's one true friend, tact was conspicuous; and she exercised it on the present occasion. She selected her opportunity well, and she employed it with admirable discretion. There was no assumption of superiority, no "lecturing" tone in the grave, kind words which she addressed to Robert Streightley's wife, and in which she appealed to her sense of right, of duty, of delicacy, and of gratitude. Katharine could not deny the truth of any thing she said. She had married Robert Streightley because he was a rich man, and she had given him nothing in return, not only for all the money, but for all the love, which he lavished upon her, that it was in her power to withhold. The interview was a painful one to both parties; especially painful to Katharine, who had to hide from her friend the real motive which had actuated her in her marriage and in her subsequent conduct--a motive in which not only did there not exist the smallest excuse, but which in reality increased her guiltiness towards the man whom she had married. She could not deny the truth; she could not impugn the force of the contrast presented by his conduct, which Mrs. Stanbourne painted to her in all the glowing colours of generosity, devotion, patience, and forbearance. Katharine felt, as she promised, that she never could forget the picture as drawn by her friend; it appealed to all that was best in her nature; it touched her innate nobility of soul. Nor did she forget it: in the time to come she bore it, every hue, every tint, in her memory. Mrs. Stanbourne was surprised and delighted at the result of her hazardous interposition. "I will not pretend to feel towards him what I do not feel," said Katharine, in her softest tones, as their conversation drew to a close; "but I will be more considerate of him--I will be less selfish--I will try to make him happier." "Do so, my dear Katharine," said her faithful friend, "and depend on it, your own happiness will be the result. You have only to do your duty to your husband, and the feelings to which you could not pretend, and ought not to feign, will arise in your heart spontaneously. Try to make him happy, because it is right and you owe it to him, and you will soon find your own happiness centred in him as his is in you." The elder lady kissed the younger gravely, and left her. Katharine covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. She very rarely wept; and now, though she thought, "Ah, if she only knew--if she only knew that love is dead for me!" there was refreshment in the transient passion of grief and self-reproach, and a new dawn of better days in the frank resolution with which Katharine determined on the fulfilment of her promise.