The husband and wife met with perhaps a greater sense of satisfaction and pleasure than either had anticipated feeling when they parted. Marriage is a curious thing notwithstanding all the ill that is said of it. They had not been long married; they had not been exactly what people call in love with each other; nor was James Rowland at all a sentimental person. Yet there is something in that old-fashioned expression which speaks of making two persons one flesh, which has a most powerful influence. They meet as people only can meet whose interests are one, who are fain to confide everything that affects them to the bosom of the other, who is theirself. The thing is indescribable; it is simple as a b c to those who have experienced it. It would probably be impossible without the other circumstances of the union, yet it is superior to all the rest--the most essential, the most noble. Both these persons had been disturbed and troubled by various matters peculiar to themselves; Rowland by the problem of his children, Evelyn by other problems not unlike, yet so different from his. When they met, there seemed an instant lull in these disturbances. The two-fold being was now complete, and was able to deal with all problems. Rowland had travelled by night, as busy men so often get the habit of doing, and Evelyn superintended the excellent breakfast he always made, and looked on at the satisfaction of that admirable appetite with much complacency, before she asked any questions. She was not a woman who was fond of asking questions. She awaited confidences, and did not press them; which is a very good way for those who can do it, but not perhaps very easy to an anxious mind. The difference of her position from that of a mother was, that she was interested without being anxious, and this made her also more charitable in judging, and probably would make her less hard upon the shortcomings of the children. She was very much interested, but she was calm, and it was not to her a question of life and death. It was not till he had eaten the very last spoonful of marmalade and piece of roll, of which he was capable, that she said “Well?” looking with a smile into his eyes. “Well--,” he said with satisfaction, pushing back his seat from the table, “you’re ready to hear all about my troubles, Evelyn?” “I hope they are not very bad troubles.” “That will be very much as you take them, my dear. They might be bad enough, but I’ve great confidence in my wife. In the first place, the house is, I think, perfection; but you may not agree with me--you know I have not your refinement. It stands on a green knoll overlooking the Clyde, with a background of the most beautiful hills in the world, and for the foreground the grand Firth--and all the wealth and life that pass over it---- But,” he said pausing, and with a half shamefaced laugh, “I’ve told you all that before.” “Yes, you have told me before; but that does not take away my interest. Tell me more.”