"not to presume on me in this direction! And
I further warn you, that if I ever catch that scoundrel in my house,
or in your company, I will shoot him down like a dog!"

Mrs. Dexter was too feeble for a shock like this. The crimson left
her face. While her husband yet glared angrily upon her, a deathly
hue overspread her features, and she fainted, falling forward upon
the floor. He sprung to catch her in his arms, but it was too late.
She struck with a heavy concussion, against temple and cheek,
bruising them severely.

When Mrs. Dexter recovered, she was in her own room lying upon her
bed. No one was there but her husband. He looked grave to sadness.
She looked at him a single moment, then shut her eyes and turned her
face away. Mr. Dexter neither moved nor spoke. A more wretched man
was scarcely in existence. He believed all against his wife that his
words expressed; yet was he conscious of unpardonable indiscretion--and
he was deeply troubled as to the consequences of his act. Mrs. Dexter
was fully restored to consciousness, and remembered distinctly, the
blasting intimations of her husband. But, she was wholly free from
excitement, and was thinking calmly.

"Will you send for my aunt?" Mrs. Dexter turned her face from the
wall as she said this, speaking in a low but firm voice.

"Not now. Why do you wish to see her?" Mr. Dexter's tones were low
and firm also.

"I shall return to her," said Mrs. Dexter.

"What do you mean?" Feeling betrayed itself.

"As I am a degraded being in your eyes, you do not, of course, wish
me to remain under your roof. And, as you have degraded me by foul
and false accusations, against the bare imagination of which my soul
revolts, I can no longer share your home, nor eat the bread which
your hand provides for me. Where there is no love on one side and no
faith on the other, separation becomes inevitable."

"You talk madly," said Mr. Dexter.

"Not madly, but soberly," she answered. "There is an unpardonable
sin against a virtuous wife, and you have committed it. Forgiveness
is impossible. I wish to see my aunt. Will you send for her, Mr.
Dexter?"

"It was a dark day for me, Jessie, when I first looked upon your
face," said Mr. Dexter.

"And darker still for me, sir. Yet, after my constrained marriage, I
tried, to the best of my ability, to be all you desired. That I
failed, was no fault of mine."

"Nor mine," was answered.

"Let us not make matters worse by crimination an