fter hour moved slowly by, but still the husband of Margaretta
appeared not; and when the twilight fell, it came with a strange
uncertain fear to the heart of the young wife.

"What _can_ keep him so late, aunt?" she said, anxiously, as the
lights were brought in.

"Indeed, my child, I cannot tell. I hope that nothing is wrong."

"Wrong, aunt? What can be wrong?" and Margaretta looked her aunt
eagerly and inquiringly in the face.

"I am sure, my child, I do not know. Something unusual must detain
him, and I only hope that something may be evil neither to him nor
yourself."

Again there was a deep and painful silence--painful at least to one
heart, trembling with an undefinable sensation of fear.

"There he is!" ejaculated Margaretta springing to her feet, as the
bell rang, and hurrying to the door before the servant had time to
open it.

"Here is a letter for Mrs. Smith," said a stranger, handing her a
sealed note, and then withdrawing quickly.

It was with difficulty that the young wife could totter back to the
parlour, where she seated herself by the table, and with trembling
hands broke the seal of the letter that had been given her. Her eyes
soon took in the brief words it contained. They were as follow:--

"Farewell, Margaretta! We shall, perhaps, never meet again! Think of
me as one altogether unworthy of you. I have wronged you--sadly
wronged you, I know--but I have been driven on by a kind of evil
necessity to do what I have done. Forget me! Farewell!"

This note bore neither date nor signature, but the characters in
which it was written were too well known to be mistaken.

Mrs. Riston saw the fearful change that passed over the face of her
niece as she read the note, and went quickly up to her. She was in
time to save her from falling to the floor. All through the night
she lay in a state of insensibility, and it was weeks before she
seemed to take even the slightest interest in any thing that was
going on around her.

It was about three o'clock of the day that Mr. Smith got possession
of the certificates of deposit, that he entered the room of his
friend, Perkins. He looked agitated and irresolute.

"Well, Smith, how are you?" his friend said. "Have you sold that
stock yet?"

"Yes."

"Indeed! So you have triumphed over your wife's scruples. Well--what
did you get for it?"

"Only eight thousand dollars."

"That was a shameful sacrifice!"

"Indeed it was. And it puts me into a terrible d