Until that moment--the moment when he saw her the admired of all beholders, in the evening toilet which so enhanced her attractions, it may be doubted whether John had ever entirely realised the exceeding beauty of the wife whom he had chosen. In her simple morning-dress, and especially in the little coquettish hat which he had sometimes seen her wear, the honest farmer was quite willing to allow that Honor was prettier by far than nine out of ten of the pretty girls that tread the paths of life; but it was in the dress, or rather undress, that evening dissipation rendered (according to Mrs. Norcott’s dictum) necessary that young Mrs. Beacham became--in her husband’s eyes--not only a marvel and miracle of loveliness, but a source of such exceeding pain to that inexperienced rustic that in his agony of jealous susceptibility he clenched his muscular hands together till the blood well-nigh burst from his finger-ends with the strong though all involuntary compression of his fingers. For there was more than the sight of those white shoulders to rouse the demon of anger in his breast; there was more than the memory of the woman’s deceit to harden his heart against her; for beside, or rather behind her, leaning over those same white shoulders in most lover-like and devoted fashion, stood Arthur Vavasour, the man of whom his mother had in her rude fashion warned him, the man whose father had been not only his (John Beacham’s) friend, but his benefactor! Whispering in her ear, calling the crimson blush to her fair cheek--the husband saw it all! And ah, how at that moment poor John hated that dark handsome face--the face of one looking so like a tempter sent to try the faith and virtue of an angel only too ready, so it seemed, to fall! Will any of my readers--any, that is to say, who have in their own persons borne the burden and the heat of human passions--marvel that this man, spurred by the spectacle before him--the spectacle not of _fictitious_ crimes and sorrows, for there was a side-scene in which a deeper melodrama was being enacted for his benefit--should have “lost his head” under the pressure of such unwonted excitement? Something--it was not common sense or reason, for he was long past any safeguard they could render him--_something_ retained the man, whose passions were so rapidly growing to be his master, in the place which, between two elderly playgoers who were entirely absorbed by the “scene,” had been assigned to him--retained him, that is to say, till such time as, the act being over, he could move from his place without causing public excitement and commotion.