plain tightness which Zachariah admired. She had exquisitely white
and perfect teeth, a pale, clear complexion, and the reputation of
being a most sensible woman. She was not a beauty, but she was good-
looking; the weak points in her face being her eyes, which were mere
inexpressive optic organs, and her mouth, which, when shut, seemed
too much shut, just as if it were compressed by an effort of the will
or by a spring. These, however, Zachariah thought minor matters, if,
indeed, he ever noticed them. "The great thing was, that she was"--
sometimes this and sometimes that--and so it was settled.
Unfortunately in marriage it is so difficult to be sure of what the
great thing is, and what the little thing is, the little thing
becoming so frightfully big afterwards! Theologically, Mrs.
Zachariah was as strict as her husband, and more so, as far as
outward observance went, for her strictness was not tempered by those
secular interests which to him were so dear. She read little or
nothing--nothing, indeed, on week-days, and even the Morning
Chronicle, which Zachariah occasionally borrowed, was folded up when
he had done with it and put under the tea-caddy till it was returned.
On Sundays she took up a book in the afternoon, but she carefully
prepared herself for the operation as though it were a sacramental
service. When the dinner-things were washed up, when the hearth was
swept and the kettle on the fire, having put on her best Sunday
dress, it was her custom to go to the window, always to the window,
never to the fire--where she would open Boston's Fourfold State and
hold it up in front of her with both hands. This, however, did not
last long, for on the arrival of the milkman the volume was replaced,
and it was necessary to make preparations for tea.

The hackney coach drove up to the house in Rosoman Street where
Zachariah dwelt on the first floor. He was too weak to go upstairs