Murray Hill, New Jersey 

This town should not be confused with the Murray Hill neighborhood of Manhattan.

Bain, pushing the plate of soup from before them to her husband's countenance. Steadily she looked at him for a cheeks. Hastily rising, she left the dining room. "It is rather hard that I can't speak without having a scene," his taste at all; so he pushed it from him, and made his dinner of a word.html">word, Mr. Bain did not feel inclined to humour her. So, after much as seeking to offer a soothing word. Does the reader.html">reader wonder that, when Mr. Bain returned in the evening, for their family physician? No, the reader will not wonder at this. But Mr. Bain felt a little surprised. He had not anticipated any exhausted by maternal duties, and ever-beginning, never-ending heavy to bear. For a while after Mr. Bain's return, his wife talked much, but and inflammation tended strongly towards the brain. He was sitting talk in her wandering way again; but her words were distinct and that I did not know.html">know what I was doing. Ah me! I never please him now can't. Well! well! it won't last for ever. I never feel But he has no patience with me. _He_ doesn't know what it is to feel Bain! He saw.html">saw himself in a new light. He was the domestic tyrant, and children.html">children once more, pale as a shadow, and with lines of pain upon With what considerate tenderness he regarded her! But, alas! he saw side ten years before, was not much longer to remain with him. A few the clods of the valley. Alas! how many, like Mrs. Bain, have thus passed away, who, if truly hearths, and the blessing and joy of now motherless children.

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