The moment I admitted the possibility of his exercising a secret influence over Madge, I looked upon him with new interest. He had the intense, deep-set eye, which is said to tame the wild beasts of the forest, and perhaps its glance had subdued the animal nature that triumphed over her more ethereal attributes. I hoped most devoutly that my supposition might be true; for genuine affection exalts both the giver and receiver, and opens ten thousand avenues to joy and good.
"You do not look quite so rosy as you did in the country," said he, looking earnestly at me. "The dissipation of a city life does not agree with our wild-wood flowers. They need a purer atmosphere."
"Gabriella is taken very good care of," cried Madge, looking significantly at Ernest. "She is not allowed to hurt herself by dissipation, I assure you."
"Do you imply that she needs a restraining influence to keep her from excess?" asked Ernest. He spoke lightly, but he never spoke without meaning something.
"No, indeed. She is the model wife of the nineteenth century. She is 'wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.' Solomon must have seen her with prophetic eye, when he wrote the last chapter of Proverbs."
"Mock praise is the severest censure, Margaret," said I.
"No such thing. I mean every word I say. Show me a young and beautiful wife, almost bride, immuring herself as you do, and never seen in public but clinging to her husband's arm, shrinking from admiration and blushing at a glance, and I will show you another Solomon."
"Though you may speak in ridicule," said Ernest, with a contracted brow, "you have awarded her the most glorious meed woman can receive. The fashion that sanctions a wife in receiving the attentions of any gentleman but her husband, is the most corrupt and demoralizing in the world. It makes wedded vows a mockery, and marriage an unholy and heartless rite."
"Do you expect to revolutionize society?" she asked.
"No; but I expect to keep my wife unspotted from the world."