Daughters of Heaven

heavy curtains, sounded muffled and far away. John Manwaring stood on the hearth-rug, and his wife gazed at him lovingly from the depths of the armchair. He was a success! and it was she who largely had made him so. As all men do, to the women they live with, he had given to her at the beginning the keys of his life. In her hands it lay whether he should succeed or fail, be ill or well, happy or unhappy. Seven years since their wedding- day had gone by, and he had succeeded, he was well, he was happy. She looked upon her work with loving pride. He had won his seat in Parliament by a large majority. To-morrow he would make his first speech in the House. To-night he was going to a big dinner given to him by his supporters. How animated, pleased, elated he looked! She delighted in gazing on him and feeling vibrate through her, his feelings of triumph, of joy in his life. What an ovation awaited him to-morrow, she thought, letting her eyes wander slowly over the dear figure, straight and tall and exceedingly pleasing, to the handsome head, the black hair, the fine forehead and features, the warm glow of health in the clear skin. He had all that beauty and charm of appearance that introduce an orator so favourably to his audience; before he opens his lips his battle is half won, and if, when they are opened, power and intellect flow from them in passionate melody of tone, such as she knew this man was master of, he becomes irresistible. He looked to her, standing...