“Bless me, Cora!” said I.  “What is the matter?  Have you been sick?”

“No.  Why do you ask?  Is my dishabille rather on the extreme?”

“Candidly, I think it is, Cora,” was my frank answer.

“Oh, well!  No matter,” she carelessly replied, “my fortune’s made.”

“I don’t clearly understand you,” said I.

“I’m married, you know.”

“Yes; I am aware of that fact.”

“No need of being so particular in dress now.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t I just say?” replied Cora.  “My fortune’s made.  I’ve got a husband.”

Beneath an air of jesting, was apparent the real earnestness of my friend.

“You dressed with a careful regard to taste and neatness, in order to win Edward’s love?” said I.

“Certainly I did.”

“And should you not do the same in order to retain it?”

“Why, Mrs. Smith!  Do you think my husband’s affection goes no deeper than my dress?  I should be very sorry indeed to think that.  He loves me for myself.”

“No doubt of that in the world, Cora.  But remember that he cannot see what is in your mind except by what you do or say.  If he admires your taste, for instance, it is not from any abstract appreciation thereof, but because the taste manifests itself in what you do.  And, depend upon it, he will find it a very hard matter to approve and admire your correct taste in dress, for instance, when you appear before him, day after day, in your present unattractive attire.  If you do not dress well for your husband’s eyes, for whose eyes, pray, do you dress?  You are as neat when abroad as you were before your marriage.”

“As to that, Mrs. Smith, common decency requires me to dress well when I go upon the street or into company, to say nothing of the pride one naturally feels in looking well.”

“And does not the same common decency and natural pride argue as strongly in favour of your dressing well at home, and for the eye of your husband, whose approval and whose admiration must be dearer to you than the approval and admiration of the whole world?”

“But he doesn’t want to see me rigged out in silks and satins all the time.  A pretty bill my dressmaker would have against him!  Edward has more sense than that, I flatter myself.”

“Street or ball-room attire is one thing, Cora, and becoming home apparel another.  We look for both in their places.”

Thus I argued with the thoughtless young wife, but my words made no impression.  When abroad, she dressed with exquisite taste, and was lovely to look upon; but at home, she was careless and slovenly, and made it almost impossible for those who saw her to realize that she was the brilliant beauty they had met in company but a short time before.  But even this did not last long.  I noticed, after a few months, that the habits of home were confirming themselves, and becoming apparent abroad.  Her “fortune was made,” and why should she now waste time or employ her thoughts about matters of personal appearance?