Cruel as the Grave

Go, when the hunter's hand hath wrung
From forest cave her shrieking young,
And calm the raging lioness;
But soothe not--mock not my distress.--BYRON.

Lyon Berners was utterly perplexed and troubled. He could not in any way
explain to himself the sudden and furious passion of his wife.

Suddenly it occurred to him that it was in some way connected with the
cards she had thrown into the fire. They were not all burned up. Some
few had fallen scorched upon the hearth. These he gathered up and
examined; and as he looked at one after another, his face expressed, in
turn, surprise, dismay, and amusement. Then he burst out laughing. He
really could not help doing so, serious as the subject was; for upon
every single card, instead of Rosa Blondelle, he had written: Mrs. ROSA BERNERS.

"Was there ever such a mischief of a mistake?" he exclaimed, as he
ceased laughing and sat down by his table to consider what was to be
done next.

"Poor Sybil! poor, dear, fiery-hearted child, it is no wonder! And yet,
Heaven truly knows it was because I was thinking of you, and not of
the owner of the cards, that I wrote that name upon them unconsciously,"
he said to himself, as he sat with his fine head bowed upon his hand,
gravely reviewing the history of the last few days.

His eyes were opened now--not only to his wife's jealousy, but to his
own thoughtless conduct in doing anything to arouse it.