yesterday he took it from the pawnbroker's, and now I find it
in your possession."

There was a hope; only in another deception; but she must save herself;
while there was a thread to grasp at, she could not allow herself to be
swept down the gathering storm.

"And is there no possibility that I may be innocent in all this?" she
exclaimed. "If I receive an anonymous letter, telling me I can find my
bracelet by paying a certain reward, is it not natural that I should go?
Knowing your strange disposition, is it not equally natural that I
should keep the whole thing a secret, and strive to make every one
believe that the bracelet had been mislaid."

"Is this true?" he cried. "Can you prove to me that you speak the
truth?"

She was not looking at him; the apathy of despair which came over her
seemed like sullen obstinacy.

"I can prove nothing," she said; "if it were possible I would not make
the effort. Do what you like; believe what you please; I will defend
myself no more."

CHAPTER L.

IN THE TEMPEST.

Mellen turned away, and walked up and down the room in silence. There
was a fearful struggle in his mind; the love he still felt for his wife
was contending against horrible doubts, and almost threatening his
reason.

He could not decide what to think or how to act! For the moment at least
he was glad to grasp at any pretext which might prove a settlement to
the question, whatever his thoughts and belief might be on after
reflection.

He looked again at Elizabeth; her stony calmness irritated him almost to
a frenzy. He was too much excited to perceive that her very quiet was
the apathy of despair; it seemed to him that she was only testing her
power over him to its full extent. If her story was true, she would die
rather than humble her pride by protestations or proof; if it was false!
There was deceit somewhere, he felt that; but even in his madness he
could not believe that Elizabeth had been guilty of anything that
affected his honor; that was a black thought which had not reached him
yet.

"Are you determined to drive me mad?" he exclaimed.

She lifted both hands with a strange gesture of misery and humiliation,
which he could not have understood.

"What have I done?" she cried. "What have I said?"

"Nothing! There you sit like a stone, and will not speak."

"It is useless to say anything," she returned; "quite useless."

"And you expect me to leave this matter here; to endure this myster