eal. As soon as my mother caught sight of me she enquired of me what
was the matter? I suppose the agony of my mind was depicted upon my
countenance. Without a word, I placed the letter in her hand, which,
after perusing, she handed to my father. The natural temper of my father
was rash and impulsive, and the contents of that letter exasperated him
beyond control. He used many bitter words, and threatened dire vengeance
upon young Almont, should he ever again enter our dwelling. My mother
begged of him to desist, saying that if he were indeed guilty, as the
letter proved him to be, his sin would certainly bring its own
punishment. When we had succeeded in quieting the anger of my father, we
were able to converse upon the matter in a calm and rational manner. We
finally decided that my father should read the letter to Mr. Almont upon
his return, and see what effect it would produce upon him. Three days
later he came. He entered our dwelling and accosted us with his usual
bland and smiling manner. In a short time, my father turned and
said,--'During your absence, Mr. Almont, my daughter has received a most
unaccountable letter which I wish to read to you, hoping you may be able
to explain it.' The paleness which overspread his countenance on hearing
my father's words put to flight the hope I had cherished that he would
be able to prove the letter a falsehood. Without any further remark, my
father read the letter to him, word for word. As he concluded he
said,--'And now, Mr. Almont, unless you are prepared to prove the
information contained in this letter to be untrue, I wish you
immediately to leave my dwelling, and, if you take my advice, you will
also leave this village, for I cannot abide the sight of a wretch such
as this letter proves you to be, and your silence be as testimony to its
truth. Begone! I say, from the humble, but, heretofore, happy home,
which your baseness has darkened by sorrow.' As my father uttered these
words, he stamped with his foot, and pointed to the door. Without a
word, Mr. Almont left the house, and on the day following, we learned
that he had left Littleton, and gone no one knew whither. Many surmises
arose concerning his sudden departure, for it was well known that we
were engaged to be married, but no one had any knowledge of the facts of
the matter. When the wonder had subsided, which any unusual event
occasions in a small village, the subject was suffered to rest. I felt
stricken as by a