Lord Sotheron meanwhile was listless and unoccupied. He was never unkind; but his mode of life was little suited to an animated young man in the very flower of manhood, and he could not, indeed he did not often attempt, to veil his ennui. She was bowed down with humiliation; she could not exert herself. Where were all her brilliancy, her wit, the variety, the grace of her conversation, which had so enchanted all around? She felt she was dull, and that he on whom her every hope depended would be driven to other society for amusement. She strove to be entertaining; but how different was that forced pleasantry from the gaiety of a mind at ease, inspired by the consciousness of success and admiration. He guessed her motive, and for a moment exerted himself to appear amused. But how different also was that forced laugh from the admiring glance which once beamed applause at her every word, which unconsciously followed her every movement! In wedded life there are a thousand common subjects of interest, little domestic concerns to be discussed; preparation for the reception of friends to be arranged; there are a thousand pleasing recollections of past scenes of enjoyment, and anticipations of the prospects of their children, which prevent the _tête-à-tête_ from wearying those whose characters and tempers are really in unison. But Walter and Lady Ellersville had no friends to prepare for, none to talk of, in all the unrestrained confidence of intimacy; they could not revert to past scenes without recalling those from whom she was for ever divided; they could not retrace the first dawnings of their mutual affection without reviving the recollection of errors over which they would gladly draw a veil; and then—they dared not allude to the future lot of their child, for that was a subject of unmingled pain to both. CHAPTER III. And is this eye, with tears o’erfraught, To thine no longer known? This eye that read the tender thought Erewhile soft trembling in thine own; By thee, alas! to weep since taught, And all its lustre flown? _Unpublished Poems._ At length the divorce passed, and Maria became the wife of him whom she loved with increasing tenderness; for all she had given up for his sake only endeared him the more to her. Man, on the contrary, though he may feel kindness, pity, gratitude, to woman, for the sacrifices she has made to him, considers her as in some measure responsible for those he has made to her. Maria was now for the first time to see Lord Sotheron’s mother. Mrs. Fitz-Eustace, though bowed down by this last heavy affliction, was too gentle to be soured by it. She promised to receive her, when once she was really her daughter-in-law. She only wished to contribute, as far as in her lay, to the welfare or the comfort of the beloved son, who, though no longer the pride and joy of her heart, was still to her the most precious thing on earth.