The opening of his heart in confessional response to his daughter,
proved one of those fresh starts in the spiritual life, of which a man
needs so many as he climbs to the heavenly gates.




CHAPTER XXXIII.

PAUL FABER'S DRESSING-ROOM.


Faber did not reach home till a few minutes before the dinner hour. He
rode into the stable-yard, entered the house by the surgery, and went
straight to his dressing-room; for the roads were villianous, and
Ruber's large feet had made a wonderful sight of his master, who
respected his wife's carpet. At the same time he hoped, as it was so
near dinner-time, to find her in her chamber. She had, however, already
made her toilet, and was waiting his return in the drawing-room. Her
heart made a false motion and stung her when she heard his steps pass
the door and go up stairs, for generally he came to greet her the moment
he entered the house.--Had he seen any body!--Had he heard any thing? It
was ten dreadful minutes before he came down, but he entered cheerily,
with the gathered warmth of two days of pent-up affection. She did her
best to meet him as if nothing had happened. For indeed what had
happened--except her going to church? If nothing had taken place since
she saw him--since she knew him--why such perturbation? Was marriage a
slavery of the very soul, in which a wife was bound to confess every
thing to her husband, even to her most secret thoughts and feelings? Or
was a husband lord not only over the present and future of his wife, but