sinister expression about the mouth and the dull, soulless eyes,
"I detest that man!" whispered Lady Ashby with bitter emphasis, as he slowly trotted by.
"Who is it?" I asked, unwilling to suppose that she should so speak of her husband.
"Sir Thomas Ashby," she replied with dreary composure.
"And do you detest him Miss Murray?" said I, for I was too much shocked to remember her name at the moment.
"Yes, I do, Miss Grey—and despise him too! and if you knew him, you would not blame me."
"But you knew what he was before you married him."
"No; I only thought so;—I did not half know him really. I know you warned me against it; and I wish I had listened to you—but it's too late to regret that now—and besides mamma ought to have known better than either of us; and she never said anything against it—quite the contrary—And then I thought he adored me, and would let me have my own way—he did pretend to do so at first; but now he does not care a bit about me. But
