"PAULINE."

Beulah leaned forward and dropped the letter into the glowing mass

of coals. It shriveled, blazed, and vanished, and, with a heavy

sigh, she sat pondering the painful contents. What advice could she

possibly give that would remedy the trouble? She was aware that the

young wife must indeed have been "very wretched" before she could

consent to disclose her domestic feuds to another. Under happier

auspices she felt that Pauline would have made a devoted, gentle

wife, but feared it was now too late to mold her character in

conformity with her husband's wishes. "So much for a union of

uncongenial natures," thought Beulah, as she prepared to answer the

unlucky letter. As guardedly as possible she alluded to Mr. Mortimor

and his family, and urged Pauline to talk to her husband gently but

firmly, and assure him that the continued interference of his family

was unendurable. If her remonstrances proved futile, to do what she

considered due to herself as mistress of her own establishment, and

try not to notice the annoyances of others. Beulah felt and

acknowledged her inability to advise the young wife in the difficult

position in which she was placed, and closed by assuring her that

only her own good sense, guided by sincere love for her husband,

could rightly direct her course. She was warmly attached to Pauline,

and it was with a troubled heart that she addressed her reply.




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