riage; and this hope, which had
buoyed him up under many difficulties, was now gone. From something he
said I suspected he had sounded Emilie on the subject of a divorce, so
easily obtained in Germany, and that she had shown determined
opposition. She evidently possessed a firmness of character more than a
match for her husband's impetuosity and violence.

"I have one resource left," said Van Haubitz. "I have pondered over it
for the last two days, and have almost determined on its adoption."

"What is it?" I asked.

"If I decide upon it," he replied, "you shall shortly know. 'Tis a
desperate one enough."

We had insensibly slackened our pace, and, at this moment, the ladies
came up. Van Haubitz made a gesture, as of impatience at the
interruption.

"Wait for me here," he said, and walked away. Without speculating upon
the motive of his absence, I stood still, and entered into conversation
with the ladies. We were on the quay. The night was mild and calm, but
overcast and exceedingly dark. A few feet below us rolled the dark mass
of the Rhine, slightly swollen by recent rains. A light from an adjacent
window illuminated the spot, and cast a flickering gleam across the
water. Unwilling to refer to their misfortunes, I spoke to Emilie on
some general topic. But Madame Sendel was too full of her troubles to
tolerate any conversation that did not immediately relate to them, and
she broke in with a long history of grievances, of the hard-heartedness
of the Amsterdam relations, the cruelty of Emilie's position, her
son-in-law's helplessness, and various other matters, in a querulous
tone, and with frightful volubility. The poor daughter, I plainly saw,
winced under this infliction. I was waiting the smallest opening to
interrupt the indiscreet old lady, and revert to commonplace, when a
distant splash in the water reached my ears. The women also heard it,
and at the same instant a presentiment of evil came over us all. Madame
Sendel suddenly held her tongue and her breath; Emilie turned deadly
pale, and without saying a word, flew along the quay in the direction of
the sound. She had gone but a few yards when her strength failed her,
and she would have fallen but for my support. There was a shout, and a
noise of men running. Leaving Madame Van Haubitz to the care of her
mother, I ran swiftly along the river side, and soon reached a place
where the deep water moaned and surged against the perpendicular quay.
Here several