and believe me—believe me, for it is from my deep heart that I speak this truth-if you had the power and the will to doom me to death, my instincts would teach me rather to receive death at your hands than to save my life by appealing from your judgment to another tribunal. I am loyal; I am faithful! God knoweth that Lam. Let me prove it; put me upon my defence. Do not-oh, do not persist in condemning me unheard.”

"Catherine," he answered in a softened voice, "you are not condemned; if you were, you would not be standing here at my side.”

"What do you mean? Good Heaven !”

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THIS,” he replied with a sudden change of manner, as though angry with himself for his transient relenting. “This! that oftentimes it happens that the only mercy we can show the guilty is not to bring them to trial. To openly recognise guilt is to be obliged to punish it. If we distinctly accuse, we are bound to prove; and, if we prove, to condemn and sentence."

"And is my case such an one?"

"Your case is such an one.

دو

"Yet still I beg to be tried; for if not to try them is often the only way to save the guilty, to try them is oftener the only way to clear the innocent. Accuse me, hear my defence, and be yourself my judge. I ask no other."

"Of what avail were it to rehearse your acts of falsehood and treachery? You know them this moment even better than I do."

"Falsehood and treachery? Just Heaven!"

'Yes, madam, those were the words I used."

"You are mistaken in attributing such wickedness to me. But tell me the grounds of your suspicions; doubtless I can explain them, and clear myself."

"Oh!

He laughed a scornful, sardonic laugh, and replied, doubtless a woman of your diplomatic genius is fertile in explanations. Whether you could by possibility clear yourself is another question; for I speak not of suspicions, but of positive knowledge."

His strong conviction of her turpitude infected her with despair at last. She said very mournfully, "I know that it has sometimes happened that the innocent have been tried and convicted-overwhelmed by a mass of circumstantial

evidence and that may be my case; nevertheless, even they have had the poor satisfaction of knowing for what they suffered. Tell me, I beseech you! I will still hope that I can acquit myself; not for my own sake, Archer, dear Archer, but for yours: it must be so agonising to be forced to think ill of one we have loved as you once loved me. I suffer very much in the loss of your esteem; but were it possible for our cases to be reversed-were I forced to think evil of youI do not know, indeed I do not know how I could go on with daily life at all!"

"I think you had better cease discoursing and retire; your diplomatic talent is not in high action this morningyou permit your words to betray you."

"To betray me!"

"Yes, madam; for if you felt yourself to be innocent, would you not necessarily think very ill of me for treating you as a guilty woman?"

"No, no! I know that to have condemned me so promptly, so unequivocally, you must have what you think proof positive against me. But produce it! I am innocent-indeed I am, Archer. I believe in Heaven's justice; I believe that, if I call on the Lord, He will, sooner or later, in His own good time, enable me to prove it."

"I will produce the testimony," he said, going to an escritoir, opening it, and taking from it a note in a grey envelope. Returning to his seat, he laid it before her, asking, "Is this your handwriting?"

Catherine glanced at it: it was the envelope she had directed to Mrs. Georgia Clifton, and she immediately answered, "Yes, certainly it is."

Ah, it is. When was it written ?"

"The last day of your dear mother's life. Ah, now I remember! It was from that day you took your favour

from me."

"Yes, madam," he said, withdrawing the fatal note from the envelope and laying it before her, adding, "Do you acknowledge this as your writing also ?"

Catherine looked at the note without heeding the words, and, raising her innocent eyes with wonder to his face, answered, without an instant's hesitation, "Yes, assuredly that is mine!"

Her perfect unconsciousness should have convinced him of

her innocence-would have done so, perhaps, but that, prejudiced against her, he took her manner to be super-refined art; and, determined to force her to the point, he said, “Would you swear it ?"

Catherine took up the letter and examined it.

“Ay! read it, read it!”

Catherine read the note, turned deadly pale, fell back in her chair, and let the paper drop from her hands, overwhelmed by the enormous wickedness of the forgery. Scarcely restraining a bitter curse, he picked up the fatal note, pushed the door open with his foot, crossed the hall, and entered his bedchamber, banging the door after him.

One stunned moment she sat thus, then started to her feet, bewildered, distracted, and with a wild impulse fled across the hall and into his chamber, and sank at his feet speechless, mute, but catching his hand and clinging to it. When she struggled and recovered her voice, she exclaimed simply, “I did not write that letter, Archer! I did not write that letter!" He twisted his hand rudely out of her grasp, and turned away without reply.

She clasped her hands earnestly, exclaiming again, “I did not write that letter! It is impossible I ever should have conceived, much less have written such a letter. I do not know who wrote it. I never laid my eyes on it before!" An incredulous, insulting smile was his reply. "Oh! what shall I say to convince you? Indeed, indeed I did not do it!"

"Come, perjure yourself! Swear it."

She was silent.

"I ask you to swear it."

She was still silent.

"Come, now, will

write that letter ?"

you

declare upon oath that

you did not

I did not !"

"God sees me! "That's no oath! Here's the New Testament-swear upon the Holy Evangelists of Almighty God that you didn't write it, and perhaps I will believe you; for well I know that many unprincipled people have a sort of fearful respect for an oath, which in them is not piety but superstition. I think you just such an one. Come, now, swear that you did not write He paused for an answer, but she looked at him in great trouble. "Will you do it ?"

it !"

"Then that only confirms and seals the truth of what I knew before-that, of course, you did write it."

She wrung her hands in deep distress and said, "I cannot swear, Archer-I mean, I dare not swear, Archer-even to prove my innocence, and get back your love."

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And why, pray?" he asked, with a mocking smile.

"O Archer! my Lord and yours has commanded us to to Swear not at all.' I dare not break that command." Tush, girl, you are clumsy! Do you presume to think I can be duped by that affectation of super-righteousness ?" "O Heaven! O Heaven! what shall I do?" said Catherine, in despair.

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Swear, and I will believe you," he answered mockingly. Oh, why will not my simple word do? Oh, do you think I would tell a falsehood even to save my life?"

"Do I? Does not an astute diplomatist, like you, know that I know a woman who can be false, treacherous, hypocritical-who, so young, can plot so well, and succeed so entirely-can also tell a falsehood to conceal her baseness ?" he answered, looking down upon her in insufferable scorn.

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Then her whole manner changed. She arose to her feet with a certain calm and gentle dignity, and, pushing back the veiling tresses from her noble brow, answered nobly, Yes, it is true! If I could have conceived such treachery, and written such a letter as that, I could also have lied to conceal it! There is only one on earth that knows my innocence the writer of that letter. But one in heaven knows it, and He will make it manifest. I believe in miracles, because I believe in the infinite power and goodness of God, and in the everlasting promises of the Bible."

“Well done, Maria Theresa! really, that is the best of all! Indeed, your talents are quite lost upon such unworthy game as me and my poor estate. Good-bye!" and, laughing bitterly, he left the room, and hurried down stairs. A few minutes after, she heard the clock strike ten; then she arose and went to the window to look out. He stood upon the lawn, in riding-gear, near a group consisting of his servant Dandy, and three saddle-horses. She saw him vault into his saddle and ride away, attended by Dandy, mounted on one

horse and leading another. As he passed the outer gate, one look of love, sorrow, and despair he turned towards her window, and then vanished into the forest-road.

She did not see that look-she could not, at that distanceshe saw that he was gone; and, turning from the window, she sank down upon the carpet in the deepest sorrow.

Gone! He was gone! His presence, that had made all suffering tolerable, was withdrawn, and the place was empty— life itself was empty.

He was gone, gone-not lovingly, after a lingering, tender leave-taking that would have been sorrowful enough ; but it would have been cheered by the promise of frequent interchange of letters, and the anticipation of re-union. much more sorrowful this utter separation!

How

Gone! gone! not in anger-that would have been bitter indeed; but it would have been sweetened by hope that anger would subside, that reflection would come, and reconciliation ensue. But, how much bitterer this hopeless

disunion!

Gone in scorn!

Gone in loathing! Gone to return no more but as a stranger! Oh, insupportable grief! Oh, hopeless anguish! Oh, despair!

A few short weeks ago the heaven of her life had been so serene, so divinely serene, and her soul had reflected back the beautiful " great calm," as a still lake the clear sky.

Now all was changed! Now all was clouds, and storm, and darkness! A howling wilderness around! a howling tempest overhead! And her soul answered back the tempestuous discord of life, as the storm-tossed ocean the storm-lowered sky! All was confusion, distraction, chaos!

Wild impulses-suggestions of the fiend-darted meteorlike athwart her mind to fly, to go away, and leave a place where she had been brought a bride, full of love, and hope, and trust, and where every feeling of womanly pride and delicacy had been ruthlessly trampled in the dust!

But simultaneously with this suggestion arose the instinct of the wife and the inspiration of the Christian, teaching her that, scorned and outraged as she had been, her only post of duty, as of hope, was her husband's home. Yes, amid all the gloom and terror she caught this one glimpse of heaven ; amid all the clash and clang of passion and despair she heard this voice of God.