d been deeply and irreparably
wronged--wronged in a way for which there was no atonement.

As this conviction fully formed itself in his mind, the question of
what he should do came up for immediate decision. He had one child,
about eighteen months old, around whom his tenderest affections had
entwined themselves; but when he remembered that his friend's
intimacy with his wife had run almost parallel with their marriage,
a harrowing suspicion crossed his mind, and made his heart turn from
the form of beauty and innocence it had loved so purely.

The final conclusion of the agonized husband was to abandon his wife
at once, taking with him the corroborating evidence of her
unfaithfulness. He returned to her private drawer, and taking from
it the letters of Westfield and the braid of hair, placed them in
his pocket. He then packed his clothes and private papers in a
trunk, which he ordered to be sent to Gadsby's Hotel. Half an hour,
before his wife's return, he had abandoned her for ever.

When Mrs. Miller came home, it was as late as tea-time. She was
accompanied by Westfield, who came into the house with his usual
familiarity, intending to share with the family in their evening
meal, and enjoy a social hour afterward.

Finding that her husband was not in the parlour--it was past the
usual hour of his return--nor anywhere in the house, Mrs. Miller
inquired if he had not been home.

"Oh yes, ma'am," said the servant to whom she spoke, "he came home
more than two hours ago."

"Did he go out again?" she asked, without suspicion of any thing
being wrong.

"Yes, ma'am. He went up-stairs and stayed a good while, and then
came down and told Ben to take his trunk to Gadsby's."

The face of Mrs. Miller blanched in an instant. She turned quickly
away and ran up to her chamber. Her drawer, which she had not
noticed before, stood open. She eagerly seized her precious casket;
this, too, was open, and the contents gone! Strength and
consciousness remained long enough for her to reach the bed, upon
which she fell, fainting.

When the life-blood once more flowed through her veins, and she was
sufficiently restored to see what was passing around her, she found
the servants and Westfield standing by her bedside. The latter
looked anxiously into her face. She motioned him to come near. As he
bent his ear low toward her face, she whispered--

"Leave me. You must never again visit this house, nor appear to be
on terms of intimac