look of boyhood. But he was handsome
ever, and just the same loving fellow.'

"'I am so rejoiced to be at home again. I have been thinking of you
constantly, Marie.'

"'Why, then, have you been absent so long, and why for two years have
you not written to me--not even a line?'

"'I have been fighting in a great, crowded city for a competency. The
battle was fierce and long; sometimes I was lost in the busy, swaying
multitude; but I have gained it, and I am here to know if you will go
and share it with me."

"'Yes, I am ready and willing to go, though I am sure we shall be
driven out and away from the family fold; be branded as wantons,
outcasts, by all we love most dear.'

"'Leave your fears outside the church door, my darling, for we can
defy them so far as money is the question. I have enough. We will
build ourselves a home in some retired spot, and be so happy that they
will seek us, and be ashamed of their conduct when they see how they
have erred.'

"I could not resist such persuasion from the only man I had ever
loved. I consented at once, and the next day we were married. In
accord with my own desire, we bought this embowered island, and built
this spacious home. It had everything in and about it that taste could
fancy and wealth purchase. It was quite a heaven for me. We were so
happy, and he never left me. We sat beneath the grand old trees and
talked of our future prospects, read our favorite books, and I loved
those best which we had read together. It seemed too much happiness to
last long; sometimes I felt as if the shadow of sorrow was threatening
our home. Yet all was serene, and I dismissed my fears. It had not yet
come; but it was coming though, as slowly yet as surely as the distant
muttering of thunder portends the approaching storm. An indefinable
dread of something impending clung to me. I could not rid myself of
it. My husband now commenced absenting himself from home. He had
business in this city, and then in that one; his journeys became more
frequent and of longer duration. After one of these visits he returned
wearied and not at all like himself; care was on his brow, and his
manner betokened some great grief. I said:

"'John, dear, it is two weeks since you left me, and you promised to
return the same day. What is the matter? are you in trouble? You must
be, for your face has that pinched look which nothing but extreme
anxiety can produce. Confide in me.'

"'Nothing very serious, my