Thunder in the Air

"If we would have this negative happiness continue, this matter
ought to be settled at once and forever," she said, inwardly. "He
must not suspect me of weak and wicked clinging to the phantoms of
my youth; must believe that I do not harbor a regret or wish
incompatible with my duty as his wife. I will avail myself of the
first favorable moment to assure him of the folly of his fears and
of his discomfort."

Another consideration--the natural sequence of her conviction of his
unhappiness--was a touching appeal to her woman's heart. If he had
not loved her more fervently than his phlegmatic temperament and
undemonstrative bearing would induce one to suppose, he would not
dread the rekindling of her olden fancy for another. The image of
him who, she had confessed, had taught her the depth and weight of
her own affections, whom she had loved as she had never professed to
care for him, would not have haunted his pillow to chase sleep, and
torture him with forebodings.

"I must make him comprehend that Mabel Aylett at twenty, wilful,
romantic, and undisciplined, was a different being from the woman
who has called him 'husband,' without a blush, for fourteen years!"

It was these recollections that softened her kindly tones to
tenderness; made the pressure of her hand upon his temples a caress,
rather than a manual appliance for deadening pain; while she
combated his intention of appearing at the breakfast-table.