About a month afterward, taking up a Boston paper, she read the marriage
of Mr. John Hallet, merchant, to Miss ----. 'Some other person has
his name,' she thought. 'It can not be he, yet it is strange!' It _was_
strange, but it was _true_, for there, in another column, she saw that:
'Mr. John Hallet, of the house of Russell, Rollins & Co., and his
accomplished lady, were passengers by the steamer Cambria, which sailed
from this port yesterday for Liverpool.'

The blow crushed her. But why need I tell of her grief, her agony, her
despair? For months she did not leave her room; and when at last she
crawled into the open air, the nearest neighbors scarcely recognized
her.

It was long, however, before she knew all the wrong that Hallet had done
her. Her aunt noticed her altered appearance, and questioned her. She
told her all. At first, the cold, hard woman blamed her, and spoke
harshly to her; but, though cold and harsh, she had a woman's heart, and
she forgave her. She undertook to tell the story to her brother. He had
his sister's nature; was a strict, pious, devout man; prayed every
morning and evening in his family, and, rain or shine, went every Sunday
to hear two dull, cast-iron sermons at the old meeting-house, but he had
not her woman's heart. He stormed and raved for a time, and then he
cursed his only child, and drove her from his house. The aunt had forty
dollars--the proceeds of sock-knitting and straw-braiding not yet
invested in hymn-books, and with one sigh for the poor heathen, she gave
it to her. With that, and a small satchel of clothes, and with two
little hearts beating under her bosom, she went out into the world.
Where could she go? She knew not, but she wandered on till she reached
the village. The stage was standing before the tavern-door, and the
driver was mounting the box to start. She thought for a moment. She
could not stay there. It would anger her father, if she did--no one
would take her in--and besides, she could not meet, in her misery and
her shame, those who had known her since childhood. She spoke to the
driver; he dismounted, opened the door, and she took a seat in the coach
to go--she did not know whither, she did not care where.

They rode all night, and in the morning reached Concord. As she stepped
from the stage, the red-faced landlord asked her if she was going
further. She said, 'I do not know, sir;' but then a thought struck her.
It was five months since Hallet had started