th--your namesake! oh! I would
never have had her christened thus, I could not have insulted you so,
had I known! I feel almost inclined to doubt the justice and love of
God--if, indeed, there is a God."

The letter here looked as if the writer must have been overcome with
her wretchedness, and wept tears of bitter despair, for it was badly
blurred and defaced.

But Edith, her face now absolutely colorless, read eagerly on.

"I cannot bear it and live," the writer resumed, "and so--I am going
to--die. Edith, my husband--no, my betrayer, I ought rather to
say--has deserted me! He has gone to Florence with a beautiful
Italian countess, who is also very rich, and is living with her there
in her elegant palace, just outside the city. He has long been
attentive to her, but I never dreamed how far matters had gone until
yesterday, when I came upon them, unawares, in Everard's studio, and
heard him tell her how he loved her--that 'I was not his wife, only
his ----' I cannot write the vile word that makes my flesh creep with
horror. Then I learned of his base conduct to me, whom, as he
expressed it, he 'had cleverly deceived, and coaxed to run away with
him to while away his solitude during his sojourn in a strange
country.' It is a wonder that I did not drop dead where I stood--slain
by the dreadful truth; but the wicked lovers did not dream of being
overheard, and so I listened to the whole of their vile plot and then
stole away to try and decide upon a course of action. When Everard
came home, I charged him with his perfidy. Then--pity me, Edith--he
boldly told me that he was weary of me; that he would pay me a
handsome sum of money and I might take my child and go back to my
parents! Oh! I cannot go into details, or tell you what I have
suffered--no one will ever know that but God! Why, oh, why does He
permit such evil to exist? He does not--there is no God! there is no
God!"

There was a huge blot here, as if the pen had fallen from the fingers
that had dared to deny the existence of Deity; then the missive was
resumed in a different tone, as if a long interval of thought had
intervened.

"Edith, I am calmer now, and I am going to ask a great favor of you.
You are happily married, you have a noble husband and abundant means,
and you know we once pledged ourselves to befriend each other, if
either should ever find herself in trouble. Presuming upon that
pledge, I am going to ask if you will take my darling, my poor