release?"

"I certainly would. She is your lawful wife. In the church of her father
you pledged your faith to her, and I do not think any human law can
absolve you from being faithful to your marriage vows. I do not say it
lightly. I do not think any mother ever laid her first born in the grave
with any more sorrow than I do to-day when I make my heart the sepulchre
in which I bury my first and only love. This, Clarence, is the saddest
trial of my life. I am sadder to-day than when I stood a lonely orphan
over my grandmother's grave, and heard the clods fall on her coffin and
stood lonely and heart-stricken in my uncle's house, and felt that I was
unwelcome there. But, Clarence, the great end of life is not the
attainment of happiness but the performance of duty and the development
of character. The great question is not what is pleasant but what is
right."

"Annette, I feel that you are right; but I am too wretched to realize
the force of what you say. I only know that we must part, and that means
binding my heart as a bleeding sacrifice on the altar of duty."

"Do you not know who drank the cup of human suffering to its bitter
dregs before you? Arm yourself with the same mind, learn to suffer and
be strong. Yes, we must part; but if we are faithful till death heaven
will bring us sweeter rest." And thus they parted. If Luzerne had felt
any faltering in his allegiance to duty he was too honorable and upright
when that duty was plainly shown to him to weakly shrink from its
performance, and as soon as his wife was able to travel he left A.P.,
for a home in the sunny South. After Luzerne had gone Annette thought,
"I must have some active work which will engross my mind and use every
faculty of my soul. I will consult with my dear friend Mrs. Lasette."

All unnerved by her great trial, Annette rang Mrs. Lasette's front door
bell somewhat hesitatingly and walked wearily into the sitting-room,
where she found Mrs. Lasette resting in the interval between twilight
and dark. "Why Annette!" she said with pleased surprise, "I am so glad
to see you. How is Clarence? I thought you would have been married
before now. I have your wedding present all ready for you."

"Mrs. Lasette," Annette said, while her voice trembled with
inexpressible sorrow, "it is all over."

Mrs. Lasette was lighting the lamp and had not seen Annette's face in
the dusk of the evening, but she turned suddenly around at the sound of
her voice and noticed