"Too late, too late. The heart is seared and dead. See, little Eva
stands and beckons me to the land of love. Yes, dear one, I come."

But the crisis came, and though feeble as an infant, the physicians
declared the danger past. Careful nursing, and freedom from
excitement, would restore the wife and mother to her family.

With unequalled tenderness did her husband watch over her, but with
returning health returned also that unnatural frigidity of manner.
There was no response to his words or looks of love.

Was it, indeed, too late? Had his knowledge of the wants of a
woman's heart come only when the heart, which once beat for him
alone, had become as stone?

It was the anniversary of their marriage. Eleven years before they
had stood at the altar and taken those holy vows. Well did Henry
Howard recollect that bridal morning. And how had he fulfilled the
trust reposed in him? With bitter remorse he gazed upon the wreck
before him, and thought of that gentle being once so full of love
and joy.

An earnest prayer broke from his lips, and his arms were clasped
around her.

"Mary, dear Mary," he whispered, "may not the past be forgotten?
Grievously have I erred, but believe me, it has been partly through
ignorance. An orphan from my earliest childhood, I knew not the
blessing of a mother's love. Cold and stern in my nature, I