my temper and my violence! You thought
you had won a good and quiet wife—one who
would have kept your house in order—be
always ruled by you—make your world her
world——one who would be always grateful
and cheerful, and content; and instead——
Indeed, I do not wonder you cannot love the
creature."

"You shall not speak so!—hush! I love
you—you know I love you. Cannot I make
you happy, my poor wife? I have been
wrong and selfish; in my hurry to get the
treasure I wanted, I did not pause to think if
I were worthy to keep it. You were not
happy,—I thought, presumptuously, that I
could make you so,—that my great, entire
love would satisfy you. If I was mistaken
and wrong, Heaven forgive me. Heaven pity
us both—you most—my poor, poor wife!"

He spoke so sadly that my heart melted
utterly. I threw myself on the ground,
clasping his knees, and sobbed out:

"O Harold! I see it now. You are too
good,—I am not worthy—forgive me! What
a wife I am to you! I owe you everything,
and I poison your peace—make you
miserable. No! I will not get up, I will stay here.
You must tell me,—how shall I make you
happy? How can I grow good and quiet?
How can I alter myself? You must tell me;
you must teach me!"

But he would not listen. He took me up
in his arms, soothing and caressing me, as if
indeed I had been a child, a penitent, passion-
weary child, he carried me up-stairs. I was
obliged to be passive now, because I felt
utterly weary; so my head lay quietly on his
shoulder, and my tears rained down quietly,
without effort to control or restrain them.
But this sweet tenderness was not what
I had wanted,—I wanted him really to teach
me—I wanted to have learnt from him the
secret of quiet happiness. Ah! if I could only
have governed myself—have spoken calmly
and gently, and without tears, passion, or
reproaches, have let him known how it was
with me! That night I lay awake with the
miserable consciousness that I had done no
good, but great harm,—that now, indeed, poor
Harold's heart must be wounded,—that I had
told my husband that his love could not make
me happy,—that I was miserable!

Tormented for the few hours before daylight
by such thoughts as these, I grew more
and more restless and feverish. Next day, and
for many days after, I was very ill, and
during all the time my husband's tender, self-
forgetting care of me was a constant
reproach and cause of remorse.

The first day I was down-stairs, again, and
tolerably calm and strong, I made a great
effort to speak to Harold about that miserable
evening. He would hear no explanations.
I was to forget all about it. I had
not made myself ill then, he was sure, I
was feverish before. It was all his fault,—
he ought to have known better than to
subject me to so much fatigue and excitement.
We had both talked nonsense. Not happy?
We were both as happy as the day was long.
Could I look in his face and tell him that
I was not happy? he asked. He had come to
the side of my sofa—had sat down by me and
drawn my head from its resting-place, to
pillow it on his heart. Lying there, looking up
into those most loving eyes of his, I said
I was happy then.

It was high spring-time, now. As soon as
I was strong enough, Harold took me to the
sea-side; there we had a pleasant time.

  TWO SHILLINGS PER HORSE-POWER.

DATED the seventh of last August, there
has come into the world—prematurely born—
a Special Report of the Executive Committee
of the National Association of Factory
Occupiers. For reasons not very cogent as they
stand in print, it has appeared proper to the
managing committee of the Association to
submit to its members an earlier report than
the rules contemplated. The reason not
stated in print is, on the face of the report,
obvious enough;—the Association has become
suddenly anxious to forsake some of its
positions; to abandon, as dangerous, a large part
of the too-extended line of its defences.

All the world being at liberty to march
in and look at the abandoned trenches, we
make bold to inspect them. Hear, O ye
factory owners who have paid your two
shillings per horse-power for immunity from
all the legal penalties of resistance to the
law which commands proper fencing of your
dangerous machinery; this is the retired
position taken in their new special report by
the committee of your National Association.
"They have not paid, and they do not intend
to pay, damages or penalties in any case
whatever." See, what a solid piece of work
was this! At the meeting on the twenty-
seventh of March last, the report of a
deputation to London was read, and it contained
the following recommendations. Remember
it, all ye mill owners who have paid duly in
accordance therewith your two shillings per
horse-power!" The deputation are of
opinion, that a fund of not less than five
thousand pounds should be immediately
raised; and they suggest, that all cases of
prosecution, which the committee of management
may be of opinion can be legitimately
dealt with by the Association, shall be
defended by, and the penalties or damages paid
out of, the funds of the Association." Whereupon,
it was moved, seconded, and unanimously
resolved, "That the best thanks
of this meeting be given to the deputation,
for their valuable services, and for the
report which they have just submitted. That
the report which has now been read be
printed and circulated through the trade,
together with the resolutions adopted in London,
and that every mill occupier be urgently