Susan could not sleep all that night for malice; and from that day she was absorbed by her hatred for Mary. It was a hate that became a very monomania with her. It was the only passion left to relieve the monotonous weariness of her existence, and it ever grew more intense. She would rub her hands together and laugh in her excitement when she sat alone. "I have again something worth living for," she would mutter to herself, "I will ruin that girl's happiness--somehow--somehow," and her subtle mind pondered and plotted how to effect a sweet revenge. But weeks passed, and so far she had formed no definite plan, had discovered no safe but extreme torture, so she determined for the present to do all she could in a small way to annoy her foe periodically. She knew that with her devilish ingenuity she could not fail to find some method of undermining the young wife's happiness. CHAPTER XXVII. THE SECOND WARNING. During these early months of her married life, Mary enjoyed an almost perfect happiness, for the first time of her short existence. She sometimes wondered and was afraid when she thought of it, looking upon herself as being altogether unworthy of so many joys. She had passed through the terrible ordeal, and the strange vicissitudes of her life had produced an ennobling and refining effect upon her character, which was reflected on her beautiful face. She was, indeed, as sweet a woman as the soul of man could desire. There was something peculiarly winning about her now; every graceful movement, every word and smile told of a heart full of innocent gladness and love. There was a childish simplicity, there was a delightful playfulness about her, that yet betrayed profound depths of feeling. She fascinated all with the unconscious witchery of her manners. The coarsest man could not fail to feel better in her company; she could touch what good was yet left in his nature; it would seem to him as if she were surrounded by some subtle atmosphere that affected his heart somewhat in the way that beautiful music does, a hymn of perfect chastened joy breathing of the lost Paradise. When the husband and wife returned from their honeymoon--a long leisurely ramble among Italian lakes--Mary entered into the spirit of housekeeping with great zest. It was pretty to observe the delight she took in her new duties. She was quite in love with the little villa in St. John's Wood, with its trees and garden and greenhouse, there was so much to look after and take a pride in, and she was always busy at one thing or the other, filling the house with her blithe song. Mrs. White passed some time with them at first to give the young wife some lessons in house-keeping, and very merry lessons they were.