Mr. and Mrs. Blandford had lived together in their village cottage forty years, in the greatest conjugal affection and concord. It was generally known that they had seldom or ever had a quarrel or misunderstanding during the whole of that period. They were hoping that their declining years would be spent in similar blessedness. But, alas! such was not to be their lot.
There lived not far from them a neighbour whose disposition was anything but loving, and who took pleasure in promoting ill-will between those who lived in peace. She had long had her heart set upon provoking a quarrel between this happy pair. She had tried in many secret ways to bring it about, but all failed. At last she hit upon one which accomplished her malicious end, and evinced the more than diabolical nature of her design.
On a certain day she made a neighbourly call upon Mrs. Blandford, and in course of conversation, said,—
“You and Mr. Blandford have lived a long time together.”
“We have. Forty years, I think, next December the 14th.”
“And all this time, I am told, you have never had a quarrel.”
“Not one.”
“How glad I am to hear it; truly you have been blest. How remarkable a circumstance! And do you expect that this will continue to the end?”
“I know nothing to the contrary; I really hope so.”
“Indeed, so do I; but, Mrs. Blandford, you know that everything in this world is uncertain, and the finest day may close with a tempest. Do not be surprised if this is the case with your wedded life.”