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 mystery patiently?”

“I expect nothing nothing!”

The same dreary, desperate wail pervaded her voice, but it was not strange that he mistook her coldness for obstinacy or indifference; the very intensity of agony she was enduring made her appear heartless.

“You won’t explain you won’t ”

She drooped her head wearily.

“I have no explanation to make; there is the bracelet.”

He caught up the bracelet, snatched her arm so rudely, and fastened the bracelet on it with such reckless haste, that she uttered a cry of pain.

“You hurt me,” she exclaimed; “this is cruel, unmanly.”

“Wear it,” he cried; “wear it, and when you look at it remember that you have dug a gulf between my heart and yours! Wear it, and remember how you have perjured yourself; how your whole conduct since my return has been a lie, and if you have any shame or power of repentance left, the gems will burn into your very soul when you look at them.”

Elizabeth fell back in her chair cold and white. He rushed out of the room. She was not conscious of any thought; her brain was too dizzy; but sat there clasping her forehead between her hands, and seeming to feel the whole world reel into darkness before her gaze.

“Has he gone; where is he?”

It was Elsie’s voice; she had stolen into the room to learn how the matter had ended.

“Can’t you speak, Bessie; what did he say?”

Elizabeth dropped the hands from her face, and rose from her seat.

“No matter what he said; the end is coming. I told you it would; the end is coming!”

“Don’t look so!” cried Elsie, “you frighten me.”

“Frighten!” she repeated with intense bitterness. “You haven’t soul enough in your bosom to be frightened.”

“Oh, you cruel, wicked creature!” sobbed Elsie. “Oh, oh! I’ll kill myself if you talk so to me; I’ll go to Grant; I’ll ”

“Hush!” interrupted Elizabeth. “There I will say no more! I don’t blame you remember that! Whatever comes, I won’t blame you for this new danger.”

“Oh, you good, unselfish darling!” cried Elsie, drying her tears at once.

She made a step forward as if to throw her arms about her sister, but Elizabeth retreated.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, faintly; “don’t touch me!”

“Should I poison you?” cried Elsie, angrily. “One would think I was some dreadful reptile.”

“No, no; don’t be angry! I need all my strength! Let me alone, Elsie; don’t speak to me.”

“The carriage is at the door,” said Elsie, “and Mrs. Harrington is waiting; for mercy’s sake don’t let her think anything is wrong. I am going to find Grant; wait here.”

She ran out of the room, and Elizabeth stood thinking over her words.

Very soon perhaps the whole world would know that she was a lost, ruined woman, without a home, a friend, or even a name.

Could she bear up; could she find strength to go on to the end and not die till then?

The hardness and desperation died out of her face; she fell to her knees, and a prayer for help rose to her lips; low and faint, but intense with agony.

She heard steps in the hall; they were coming for her. She sprang to her feet, moved towards the door and opened it; her husband, Elsie and their guest were there. She answered Mrs. Harrington’s careless words; passed on with them through the hall, and took her misery out into the world as we all do so often, hidden carefully in the depths of a tortured soul.

At dinner that day Elizabeth met two or three superior people from the city, men and women of note, whose presence at the board was like meteor flashes kindling everything with brilliancy; but among the most cheerful and most witty this wretched woman shone forth preeminent. Every word she spoke carried electric fire with it. Her cheeks were scarlet; her eyes radiant. The lips that had been so pale in her husband’s presence a few hours before, glowed like ripe cherries with the sunshine upon them. In her desperation she was inspired, and kindled every mind around her with enthusiasm.