heir feet. Mrs. Brier fainted, and dropped limp and
lifeless and unobserved. The Editor's lady went into hysterics, the
demure-looking females "lifted up their voices and wept," and everybody
but Betsey Pryor seemed struck with general consternation. "Thank
goodness!" exclaimed the last mentioned lady, pursing up her thin lips,
"_I_ never had anything to do with the men. Nobody can accuse me of
that, anyway."

Which was but too true.

The spinster having uttered this emphatic remark, folded her garments
over her immaculate bosom and went forth to seek consolation in a cup of
Mrs. Wynn's good tea.

Profiting by her example, the others immediately bent their steps to
their respective homes, and that was the last meeting of the Society
ever held in that village. It then and there, at the height of its
apparent prosperity, came to an untimely end, to the lasting grief and
shame of a few worthy souls, and the amusement of many more, who were
wicked enough to rejoice over its ignominious downfall.

Soon after Mrs. Caroline Newcomer left Waveland to return no more, and
not a little to the astonishment of every one, Mr. Charles Burton sold
his residence to a wealthy gentleman and removed with his family to a
distant city.

That was the only change that occurred except the departure of Mrs.
Euphrasia Anastasia Strain, who went home about this time to visit her
ma; and that of Rose Wynn, who left off going to church and Sabbath
School, to become wholly invisible a few weeks after.

"So this was the 'Caroline' who favored you with all those anonymous
communications," said Clemence to her friend when they were discussing
the affair together.

"Yes, the very same," sighed Mrs. Hardyng. "She doubtless followed me at
the instigation of Geoffrey Westbourne to spy upon my actions and report
to him. I do not know what his object could have been, unless he feared
that I might seek to communicate with his present wife, who I feel
convinced is not a party to his base transactions, and who believes him
an injured saint. Perhaps, too, he hoped to gain something against me
from these gossips, or knowing that I was unaccustomed to poverty and
isolation, believed that I might break through these self-imposed
barriers and resort to crime. But he should know me better. It is no
relief from misery to plunge into infamy, but only hurls the wretched
victim into darker woes. I know that I have been far from perfect, but
the soul of Ulrica Har