en committed in the city of B.,
and among them was a diamond necklace. My heart stood still with sudden
fear while I read of the account and while I was resolving what to do,
my husband entered the house followed by two officers, who demanded the
necklace. My husband interfered and with a large sum of money obtained
my freedom from arrest. My husband was very proud of the honor of his
family and blamed me for staining its record. From that day my husband
seemed changed in his feelings towards me. He grew cold, distant and
abstracted, and I felt that my presence was distasteful to him. I could
not enter into his life and I saw that he had no sympathy with mine, and
so in a fit of desperation I packed my trunk and took with me some money
I had inherited from my father and left, as I said in a note, forever. I
entered a convent and resolved that I would devote myself to the service
of the poor and needy, for life had lost its charms for me. I had
scarcely entered the convent before the yellow fever broke out and raged
with fearful intensity. I was reckless of my life and engaged myself as
a nurse. One day there came to our hospital a beautiful girl with a
wealth of raven hair just like mine was before I became a nurse. I
nursed her through a tedious illness and when she went out from the
hospital, as I had an abundance of clothing, I supplied her from my
wardrobe with all she needed, even to the dress she wore away. The
clothing was all marked with my name. Soon after I saw in the paper that
a young woman who was supposed from the marks on her clothing and the
general description of her person to be myself was found drowned in a
freshet. I was taken ill immediately afterwards and learned on
recovering that I had been sick and delirious for several weeks. I
sought for my mother, inquired about my husband, but lost all trace of
them both till I suddenly came across my husband in Brightside Park. But
Clarence, if you have formed other ties don't let me come between you
and the sunshine. You are free to apply for a divorce; you can make the
plea of willful desertion. I will not raise the least straw in your way.
I will go back to the convent and spend the rest of my life in penitence
and prayer. I have sinned; it is right that I should suffer." Clarence
looked eagerly into the face of Annette; it was calm and peaceful, but
in it he read no hope of a future reunion.

"What say you, Annette, would you blame me if I accepted this