gence involving
this mysterious change of affection in his wife, he was utterly
dismayed when Mrs. Headley recounted what she had witnessed in the
summer-house, to which she had voluntarily gone, and from which
she probably never would have returned had not accident disclosed
the secret of the trap--door.

"This is, indeed, a terrible blow!" he said, solemnly, removing
his hand and exhibiting a pale cheek and lip, and a stern and
knitted brow; "but now I know the worst, I better can bear the
infliction. Strange, I almost hate myself for it; but I feel my
heart relieved. I know I am no longer cared for there, and wherefore
seek to force an erring woman to my will? And yet, when I think of
it, of the monstrous love that weds rich intellect and gorgeous
beauty to the mere blushing bud of scarce conscious boyhood, I feel
as one utterly bewildered. Still, again, since that love be hers,
since she may not control the passion that urges her to her fate,
so unselfish am I in my feeling, even amid all the weight of my
disappointment, that rather would I have her free and happy in the
love she has exchanged, than know her pining in endless captivity,
separated from and consumed with vain desire for a reunion with
myself--her love for me unquenched and unquenchable."

"Ah! what a husband has she not lost! Generous, noble Ronayne, that
is what I had expected. You bear this bravely; I knew you would,
or never should I have dared to enter upon the matter. But
your generosity must go further; it must never be known that Maria
has gone off willingly--no doubt must be entertained of her
continued love for you. She must still be respected, even as she
is pitied and deplored; the belief that she has been made captive
and carried off must not be shaken."

"The struggle at her heart must indeed have been great before she
fell," remarked Ronayne, musingly, and with an air of profound
sadness; "for although her appearance in the rude vault beneath
the floor of the summer-house would appear to indicate compulsion,
her after conduct justifies not the belief. The imploring earnestness
with which she entreated you, Mrs. Headley, not to make known what
you had seen to me; her abstaining from all censure of Wau-nan-gee
at the moment, and her subsequent interest in him, too forcible to
be concealed; her strange and unaccountable manner during our ride,
as if to banish some gnawing reproach at her heart; her galloping
off when freed for the mome