trange infatuation induced you to throw away your own
happiness, and ruin mine? Did not my letters constantly breathe the
most ardent affection? Were not the sums of money constantly remitted in
them more than sufficient to supply all your wants?"

"Algernon, I never received the sums you name, not even a letter from
you after the third year of our separation."

"Can this be true?" exclaimed Algernon, grasping her arm. "Is it
possible that this statement can be true?"

"As true as that I now stand before you a betrayed, forsaken,
heart-broken woman."

"Poor Elinor; how can I look into that sad face, and believe you false?"

"God bless you, my once dear friend, for these kind words. You know not
the peace they convey to my aching heart. Oh, Algernon, my sufferings
have been dreadful; and there were times when I ceased to know those
sufferings. They called me mad, but I was happy then. My dreams were of
you. I thought myself your wife, and my misery as Mark's helpmate was
forgotten. When sanity returned, the horrible consciousness that you
believed me a heartless, ungrateful, avaricious woman, was the worst
pang of all. Oh, how I longed to throw myself at your feet, and tell you
the whole dreadful truth. I would not have insulted you to-night with my
presence, or wounded your peace with a recapitulation of my wrongs, but
I could no longer live and bear the imputation of such guilt. When you
have heard my sad story, you will, I am sure, not only pity, but forgive
me."

With feelings of unalloyed indignation, Algernon listened to the
iniquitous manner in which Elinor had been deceived and betrayed, and
when she concluded her sad relation, he fiercely declared that he would
return to the sick man's chamber--reproach him with his crimes, and
revoke his forgiveness.

"Leave the sinner to his God!" exclaimed the terrified Elinor, placing
herself before the door. "For my sake--for your own sake, pity and
forgive him. Remember that, monster though he be, he is my husband and
your brother, the father of the unfortunate child whose birth I
anticipate with such sad forebodings."

"Before that period arrives," said Algernon, with deep commiseration.
"Mark will have paid the forfeit of his crimes, and your child will be
the heir of immense wealth."

"You believe him to be a dying man," said Elinor. "He will live. A
change has come over him for the better; the surgeon, this morning, gave
strong hopes of his recovery. Sinner