times, if you like," said he, giving her the only husband's
kiss she had ever received.

For a moment longer she detained him, while she prayed silently for
heaven's blessing on his wayward head, and then releasing him, she bade
him go. Had he known of all that was to follow, he would not have left
her, but he believed as he said, that she would survive the winter, and
with one more kiss upon her brow, where the perspiration was standing
thickly, he departed. The window of Mabel's room commanded a view of
the turnpike, and when the sound of horses' feet was heard on the lawn,
she requested 'Lena to lead her to the window, where she stood watching
him until a turn in the road hid him from her sight.

"'Tis the last time," said she, "and he will never know how much this
parting cost me."

That night, as they were alone in the gathering twilight, Mabel said,
"If I die before Nellie comes I want you to tell her how it all
happened, and that she must forgive him, for he was not to blame."

"I do not understand you," said 'Lena, and then, in broken sentences,
Mabel told what her mother-in-law had said, and how terribly John was
deceived. "Of course he couldn't love me after that," said she, "and
it's right that I should die. He and Nellie were made for each other,
and if the inhabitants of heaven are allowed to watch over those they
loved on earth, I will ask to be always near them. You will tell her,
won't you?"

'Lena promised, adding that she thought Mabel would see Nellie herself
as she was to sail from Liverpool the 20th, and a few days proved her
conjecture correct. Entering Mabel's room one morning about a week
after John's departure, she brought the glad news that Nellie had
returned, and would be with them to-morrow.

The next day Nellie came, but she, too, was changed. The roundness of
her form and face was gone; the rose had faded from her cheek, and her
footsteps were no longer light and bounding as of old. She knew of
John Jr.'s absence or she would not have come, for she could not meet
him face to face. She had heard, too, of his treatment of Mabel, and
while she felt indignant toward him, she freely forgave his innocent
wife, who she felt had been more sinned against than sinning.

With a faint cry Mabel started from her pillow, and burying her face on
Nellie's neck, wept like a child. "You do not hate me," she said at
last, "or you would not have come so soon."

"Hate you?--no," answered Ne