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"Who was your husband?"

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Ah, you know! You must know! He who died in yonder field of blood, under the tomahawk of the Shoshonowa. I am very wretched!"

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Stay! is this true about the marriage, I mean ?" "True as God's Word!"

"Certainly the marriage was not legal without your father's consent, and would have been annulled by him; but now he will permit his consent to be supposed. Let's see the widow of an army officer entitled to his half-pay, perhaps I do not know-perhaps to a pension, too, as he died in the field of battle. Zuleime, upon the whole, I think that you were rash to attempt suicide. Your position and prospects are not so bad. If Major Cabell is anxious to possess you, now that he supposes you to be a maudlin, love-sick girl, grieving yourself to death over the grave of your lover, he will be quite as willing to marry you a year hence, when he knows you to be the widow of Captain Fairfax; for that, I understand, was his rank when he fell. Come, girl, live! Acknowledge your marriage, like a truthful woman; bring your child into God's world like a Christian woman; and after a sufficient time has elapsed, marry Major Cabell, like a sensible woman! For I do assure you that the gallant major is sufficiently enamoured of your young beauty to wait that length of time, if compelled to do so.

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Ah, yes! I think he is enamoured of me as the Shoshonowa was of poor Frank's hair!" bitterly said the girl. "This marriage must be announced at once! Who performed the ceremony ?"

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"Old Mr. Saunders, the Baptist preacher."

"What! He who was found dead in his bed?" "Yes, yes; it was he!"

Pity, for your sake, that he is dead! But you, doubtless, had some confidant, some witness-Kate Kavanagh, perhaps, or some one else? Say! speak! There was some witness to your marriage, who can be produced to prove it ?"

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No; there was none ! It was so sudden !"

"None!-no proof of your marriage? Yet stop! stay! there is a chance yet, I believe; I do not know. You were married with a licence, of course ?"

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Yes, yes!"

"The county clerk who issued it will probably remember

the occurrence. That will be something in your favour, though, alas! only imperfect circumstantial evidence; for the mere taking out of a licence is no conclusive proof of a marriage." "Ah, great or small, as proof it is of no avail. The licence was procured blank, for Carolyn and Archer, because he had forgotten her full name, and it was afterwards filled out with our names.

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"No matter; you were married with it. And now I remember a saving thing! The clergyman who married you of course affixed his certificate of marriage to the licence, and gave it to you. Where is it? All depends now upon that. Where is it ?"

“I do not know! I never saw it! If the parson gave one, probably Frank took charge of it!"

Again a pause fell, and the noises of the wind and waters arose in gloomy concert. At last Georgia spoke—

"Miserable girl! and so you have no proof whatever of this asserted marriage ?"

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None! none! But, oh! what does that matter after all? God knows that we loved, and were married, as He knows that we will soon be re-united!"

"Wretched girl! who will credit the story?"

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No one in the world, perhaps !

But, ah! what odds? Could the proving of my marriage bring him back to life, or give my father happiness ?"

"Most wretched girl! You seem quite lost to the shame you have brought upon yourself, the dishonour you have brought upon your family!"

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Ah, go on! You cannot say anything to me so bitter as heart is saying all the time !"

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"Your father! your old, grey-haired father! to bring him to shame in his old age! Can he survive the knowledge of your fall ?"

"I know he cannot ! I know it! Oh, oh!"

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Carolyn, too! To destroy all her prospects in life! Who will ever wed the sister of a supposed-"

"Ah, spare me that! Why did you pluck me back! the

river would have covered all !"

"Because I did not know or dream your folly! Zuleime, your father, who could bear your death, could never survive your disgrace"

"O God, I feel it !"

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Zuleime-you must die !”

A pause, when, but for the roar of the torrent and the howl of the wind, their very hearts might have been heard slowly beating.

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"Ah! been a crime ?"

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Zuleime, you must not live to bring shame upon us! You must die!"

Why did you hinder me when it would not have

What mean you?"

"I was mad then! I knew not what I did! God would not have charged me with my death! I am sane now-sane, though most wretched!”

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Zuleime, you must die! not in reality, but in appearance. It must be believed that you are dead-dead by your own act, as you intended; and I will provide for your escape and your future support.'

"Alas! lady, what is it you advise me to do? Deceive my poor father so cruelly, and never, never undeceive him again? and never, never see him again?"

"Lost girl! If I had not saved you an hour ago, would you have been alive to ask the question ?"

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Ah, no! But, oh, my father! Who will comfort him?" "Who would have comforted him had you effected your purpose this hour? What would comfort him for your degradation? Foolish girl, that will console him for your supposed death, which never could console him for your fall-time. Besides, if you are supposed to be dead, it will not only save us all from shame, but your father will be your heir, and can appropriate that thirty thousand dollars to the payment of his debts. Zuleime, it seems to me you owe us all this sacrifice."

“I—I am very weak and miserable. I-I scarcely know right from wrong. Do what you please with me, only console my father!”

"And at any rate, girl, this plan is far better than the self-destruction you meditated awhile ago. By this plan, you will be able to save your child."

"Ah! to what end? To be as miserable as its mother?" "Zuleime, time presses. To-night you must journey to L- and take the stage thence to Richmond. I have a negro here on whose secrecy I can depend; he shall take

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two horses from the stable and convey you to L- -in time to meet the Richmond stage. I will give you a letter that you must deliver to its address as soon as you reach the city. Get up now and come with me,” said Georgia, taking her hand to assist her in rising.

The unhappy girl mechanically yielded herself to the guidance of "the dark ladie," and they ascended the glen.

Retracing their steps through forest, field, orchard, vineyard, and garden, they reached the house, and entered by the back door. The hall was deserted; the family being at that hour gathered around their parlour fire, and the servants being at supper.

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Zuleime, go quietly up into your chamber and get ready, while I go down and find the man I spoke of," said Georgia. Zuleime mechanically obeyed. The next hour, while her father, and sister, and friends were enjoying their happy evening re-union in the warm, bright parlour, the wretched Zuleime, through the dark night and the howling wind, commenced her journey. Of what followed the discovery of her loss, you are already possessed.

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NEARLY twelve months have passed since the death of Mr. Clifton. It is October, the most glorious month in the year, when the gorgeous beauty of nature more than satisfies--when it enraptures the soul.

I shall introduce you into a chamber whose three large windows look out upon the scene of glorious magnificence only to be found when mountains, vales, and forests wear their gorgeous autumn livery. It is a very large apartment, so long and lofty that the great four-post bedstead, standing with its head against the upper end, is not in the way. At the lower end of the room there is an old-fashioned fireplace, where an oak fire is burning; the floor is covered with an ingrain carpet of warm, rich hues; the bedstead, lounge, and cushioned chairs are clothed with dark bright chintz; the windows are curtained with orange-coloured damask,

which give a mellow, autumnal tone to the atmosphere of the room; the curtains are festooned back, to admit the sunshine and the glorious view without.

The lounge is drawn up to the left of the fireplace, and Carolyn Clifton, in deep mourning, reclines upon it: she is very much changed since we saw her last. There is scarcely a trace of her disease left-only a few pits scattered thinly over the lower part of the chin and throat. But she is very, very fragile; and her thin white face is almost spectral, in contrast with her black dress. Her fair hair has grown out richer, sunnier in hue than before; it is just long enough to turn in natural, smooth ringlets, that reach to her throatand she wears it so; and those bright curls soften and shade the pearly whiteness of her cheek: the expression of her countenance has changed also-it wears a subdued, almost patient air of suffering. She is beautiful, although, now that the roundness and bloom of her cheek are gone, she does not think so. She is beautiful, as she lies there contemplating, with remorseful tenderness, a miniature that she has drawn from her bosom.

In the cushion-chair on the right of the fireplace sits Catherine Kavanagh. She has also changed within the year. Her form is fuller, rounder, more womanly; her grave, almost stern features, have softened into gentleness; her voice is softer and deeper-its tones, indeed, are very beautiful, and modulated with every shade of feeling. She wears her hair in the same old style, parted over the forehead, rippling down in dark, bright wavelets around her cheeks, and carried behind, and woven with the back hair into a large plait, and then rolled round and round into a succession of rings—a rich, dark, burnished mass of hair

Golden where the sunlight played;

But where the tendrils sought the shade,
Dark, but very beautiful.

Her dress of dark brown stuff, with the little white throatruffle and the black silk apron, is not very becoming to her; but she thinks too little of her personal appearance to care for any quality in her clothing beyond neatness and comfort. She is knitting very leisurely, stopping occasionally to measure the stocking she is engaged upon with the finished one which lies upon her lap. Kate is silent and thoughtful. All her life, up to this date, has been passed in the ministry to

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