The nearer contact into which the family of Mrs. Darlington and the
bereaved mother were brought by this affliction, discovered to the
former many things that strengthened the repugnance first felt towards
Mr. Marion, and awakened still livelier sympathies for his suffering
wife.

One evening, a week after the body of the child was borne out by the
mourners and laid to moulder in its kindred dust, the voice of Mr.
Marion was heard in loud, angry tones. He was alone with his wife in
their chamber. This chamber was next to hat of Edith and Miriam, where
they, at the time, happened to be. What he said they could not make
out; but they distinctly heard the voice of Mrs. Marion, and the words--

"Oh, Henry! don't! don't!" uttered in tones the most agonizing. They
also heard the words, "For the sake of our dear, dear Willy!" used in
some appeal.

Both Edith and Miriam were terribly frightened, and sat panting and
looking at each other with pale faces.

All now became silent. Not a sound could be heard in the chamber save
an occasional low sob. For half an hour this silence continued. Then
the door of the chamber was opened, and Marion went down stairs. The
closing of the front door announced his departure from the house. Edith
and her sister sat listening for some minutes after Marion had left,
but not a movement could they perceive in the adjoining chamber.

"Strange! What can it mean?" at length said Miriam, in a husky whisper.
Edith breathed heavily to relieve the pressure on her bosom, but made
no answer.

"He didn't strike her?" said Miriam, her face growing paler as she made
this suggestion.

The moment this was uttered, Edith arose quickly and moved towards the
door.

"Where are you going?" asked her sister.

"Into Mrs. Marion's room."

"Oh no, don't!" returned Miriam, speaking from some vague fear that
made her heart shrink.

But Edith did not heed the words. Her light tap at Mrs. Marion's door
was not answered. Opening it softly, she stepped within the chamber. On
the bed, where she had evidently thrown herself, lay Mrs. Marion; and,
on approaching and bending over her, Edith discovered that she was
sleeping. On perceiving this, she retired as noiselessly as she had
entered.

Ten, eleven, twelve o'clock came; and yet Mr. Marion had not returned.
An hour later than this, Edith and her sister lay awake, but up to that
time he was still away. On the next morning, when the bell rang for
breakfast, and