t delicate constitution! I
feel one of them coming on now. Don't disturb me."

"Shall I fan you?"

"Do, please!"

The General closed his eyes. He had never before betrayed such
excitement in her presence, and had never before appeared so dangerous.
While she determined that this should be her last exposure to his
approaches, she maintained her brave and unsuspecting demeanor, and
playfully waved her fan toward him.

"I behold," said the General, "a business man of great ability and great
wealth, who discovers too late that his wife is unequally yoked with an
unbeliever. Love abides not in his home, and his heart is afloat on the
fierce, rolling sea. He leaves his abode in the country, and seeks in
the tumultuous life of the metropolis to drown his disappointments. He
there discovers a beautiful woman, cast in Nature's finest mould, and
finds himself, for the first time, matched. Gently this heavenly
creature repels him, though her heart yearns toward him with
unmistakable tenderness. She is a prudent woman. She has a position to
maintain. She is alone. She is a friend to the wife of this unfortunate
gentleman. She is hindered in many ways from giving rein to the impulses
of her heart. This man of wealth deposits a magnificent sum in Europe.
This lady goes thither for health and amusement, and draws upon this sum
at will. She travels from capital to capital, or hides herself in Alpine
villages, but is found at last by him who has laid his wealth at her
feet."

The General revealed his vision with occasional glances through
half-closed eyes at the face that hung bowed before him. It was a
desperate step, but he had determined to take it when he entered the
house. Humiliated, tormented, angry, Mrs. Dillingham sat before him,
covering from his sight as well as she could the passion that raged
within her. She knew that she had invited the insult. She was conscious
that her treatment of him, from the first, though she had endeavored to
change her relations with him without breaking his friendship, had
nursed his base passion and his guilty purpose. She was undergoing a
just punishment, and acknowledged to herself the fact. Once she would
have delighted in tormenting him. Once she would not have hesitated to
drive him from her door. Once--but she was changed. A little boy who had
learned to regard her as a mother, was thinking of her in the distant
woods. She had fastened to that childish life the hungry instincts of
he