"Better shut her eyes to his faults, if seeing them is to make them both unhappy. You are in a very strange mood, Kate." "Am I?" returned Mrs. Lee, querulously. "You are; and the quicker it passes away, the better for both yourself and husband." "I don't know how soon it will pass away," sighed Kate, moodily. "Good-morning," said Mrs. Morton, rising and making a motion to depart. "You are not going?" Kate glanced up with a look of surprise. "Yes; I am afraid to stay here any longer," was the affected serious reply. "I might catch something of your spirit, and then my husband would find a change in his pleasant home. Good-morning. May I see you in a better state of mind when we meet again." And saying this, Mrs. Morton passed from the room so quickly that Kate could not arrest the movement; so she remained seated, though a little disturbed by her friend and monitor's sudden departure. What Mrs. Morton had said, although it seemed not to impress the mind of her young friend, yet lingered there, and now began gradually to do its work. As for Frederick Lee, he was unhappy enough. The words of Kate had stung him severely. "And so, in her eyes, I am no better than a country clod-hopper!" Almost every hour was this repeated--sometimes mentally and sometimes aloud; and at each repetition it disturbed his feelings and awakened an unforgiving spirit. "A clod-hopper, indeed! Wonder she never made this discovery before!" This was the thought of Lee as he left his place of business to return home, on the evening of the day on which Mrs. Morton called upon Kate. Why would he not look away from this? Why would he ponder over and magnify the offence of Kate? Why would he keep this ever before his eyes? His self-love had been wounded. His pride had been touched. The weapon of ridicule had been used against him, and to ridicule he was morbidly sensitive. Kate should have read his character more closely, and should have understood it better. But she was ignorant of his weaknesses, and bore heavily upon them ere aware of their existence. It was in this brooding, clouded, and unforgiving state of mind that Frederick Lee took his way homeward. On entering his dwelling, which he did almost noiselessly, he went into the parlour and seated himself in the very place where he was sitting when Kate began, so unexpectedly to him, her unsuccessful work of reformation. Every thing around reminded him of that unfortunate evening--even the lounging position he so naturally assumed, sliding down, as he did, in the chair, and throwing one of his legs over the arm. "It is comfortable for me," said he, moodily to himself; "and it's my own house. If she don't like it, let her--" He did not finish the sentence, for he felt that his state of mind was not what it should be, and that to speak thus of his wife was neither just nor kind.