darling. I said what I would do
in your place; but I did not at all say, or even hint, that it would
be right."

"Never mind," said Zillah, wearily; "I have nerved myself to go
through with it, and I can do it. The worst bitterness is over now.
There is but one thing more for me to do, and then the ties between
me and Chetwynde are severed forever."

At Hilda's earnest entreaty she took some refreshment, and then lay
down to rest; but, feeling too excited to sleep, she got up to
accomplish the task she had before her. This was to write a letter to
her husband, telling him of her departure, and her reason for doing
so. She wished to do this in as few words as possible, to show no
signs of bitterness toward him, or of her own suffering. So she wrote
as follows:

"CHETWYNDE CASTLE, March 20, 1859."

My LORD,--Your last letter did not reach Chetwynde Castle until after
your dear father had been taken from us. It was therefore opened and
read by me. I need not describe what my feelings were on reading it;
but will only say, that if it were possible for me to free you from
the galling chains that bind you to me, I would gladly do so. But,
though it be impossible for me to render you free to marry her whom
you love, I can at least rid you of my hated presence. I can not die;
but I can be as good as dead to you. To-morrow I shall leave
Chetwynde forever, and you will never see my face again. Search for
me, were you inclined to make it, will lie useless. I shall probably
depart from England, and leave no trace of my whereabouts. I shall
live under an assumed name, so as not to let the noble name of
Chetwynde suffer any dishonor from _me_. If I _die_, I will take care
to have the news sent to you.

"Do not think that I blame you. A man's love is not under his own
control. Had I remained, I know that as your wife, I should have
experienced the utmost kindness and consideration. Such kindness,
however, to a nature like mine would have been only galling.
Something more than cold civility is necessary in order to render
endurable the daily intercourse of husband and wife. Therefore I do
not choose to subject myself to such a life.

"In this, the last communication between us, I must say to you what I
intended to reserve until I could say it in person. It needed but a
few weeks' intimate association with your dear father, whom I loved
as my father, and whom I called by that name, to prove how utterly I
had been mistaken as