It was but in little things that he was deficient, mere trifles, but
still they constituted the happiness or woe of the wife of his
bosom.

The loving glance was seldom returned, the affectionate pressure of
the hand seemed unfelt, the constant effort to please remained
unnoticed. One word of praise, one kindly look, was all that was
desired, but these were withheld, and the charm of life was gone.

Gradual was the change. Bitter tears were shed, and earnest
endeavours to produce a happier state of things were sometimes made,
but in vain. Oh! could the husband but have known how wistfully that
young creature often gazed upon him as he sat at the evening meal
upon his return from business, and partook of luxuries which her
hand had prepared in the hope of eliciting some token of
approbation--could he have seen the anxious care with which domestic
duties were superintended, the attention paid to the toilette, the
constant regard to his most casually expressed wishes, surely,
surely he would have renounced for ever that cold, repulsive manner,
and clasped to his bosom the gentle being whom he had so lately
vowed to love and cherish.

But he saw it not--felt it not. Still proud of her beauty and
talents, he loved to exhibit her to an admiring world, but the fond
endearments of home were wanting. He knew nothing of the yearnings
of that devoted heart; and while the slightest deviation from his
wishes was noticed and reprimanded, the eager and intense desire to
please was unheeded--the earnestly desired word of praise was never
spoken.