s kind
and loving manner, smote all the tender chords of Miriam's heart.

Could that man be guilty of the crime she had dared to suspect him of?

Oh, no, no, no! never! Every lineament of his face, every inflection of
his voice, as well as every act of his life, and every trait of his
character, forbade the dreadful imputation!

But then the evidence--the damning evidence! Her reeled with the doubt
as she sank into the seat he offered her.

"Ring for breakfast, Paul! Our little housekeeper will feel better when
she gets a cup of coffee."

But Miriam sprang up to anticipate him, and drew her chair to the table,
and nervously began to arrange the cups and put sugar and cream into
them, with the vague feeling that she must act as usual to avoid calling
observation upon herself, for if questioned, how could she answer
inquiries, and whom could she make a confidant in her terrible
suspicions?

And so through the breakfast scene, and so through the whole day she
sought to exercise self-control. But could her distress escape the
anxious, penetrating eyes of affection? That evening after tea, when Mr.
Willcoxen had retired to his own apartments and the waiter had
replenished the fire and trimmed the lamps and retired, leaving the
young couple alone in the parlor--Miriam sitting on one side of the
circular work-table bending over her sewing, and Paul on the other side
with a book in his hand, he suddenly laid the volume down, and went
round and drew a chair to Miriam's side and began to tell her how much
he loved her, how dear her happiness was to him, and so entreat her to
tell him the cause of her evident distress. As he spoke, she became
paler than death, and suddenly and passionately exclaimed:

"Oh, Paul! Paul! do not question me! You know not what you ask."

"My own Miriam, what mean you? I ought to know."

"Oh, Paul! Paul! I am one foredoomed to bring misery and destruction
upon all who love me; upon all whom I love."

"My own dearest, you are ill, and need change, and you shall have it,
Miriam," he said, attempting to soothe her with that gentle, tender,
loving manner he ever used toward her.

But shuddering sighs convulsed her bosom, and--

"Oh, Paul! Paul!" was all she said.

"Is it that promise that weighs upon your mind, Miriam? Cast it out; you
cannot fulfill it; impossibilities are not duties."

"Oh, Paul! would Heaven it were impossible! or that I were dead."

"Miriam! where are those letters you