I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. You'll never be guided by me—never!" "Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken," returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. "Attend to me, Mrs.
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