The same evening I received my "abstract" by the hands of aclerk.

It was an intensely characteristic document. My expenses wereremorselessly calculated downward to shillings and even to pence;and our unfortunate messenger's instructions in respect to hisexpenditure were reduced to a nicety which must have made hislife in America nothing less than a burden to him. In mercy tothe man, I took the liberty, when I wrote back to Mr. Playmore,of slightly increasing the indicated amount of the figures whichwere to appear on the check. I ought to have better known thecorrespondent whom I had to deal with. Mr. Playmore's reply(informing me that our emissary had started on his voyage)returned a receipt in due form, and the whole of the surplusmoney, to the last farthing!

A few hurried lines accompanied the "abstract," and stated theresult of the lawyer's visit to Miserrimus Dexter.

There was no change for the better--there was no change at all.Mr. Dexter, the brother, had arrived at the house accompanied bya medical man accustomed to the charge of the insane. The newdoctor declined to give any definite opinion on the case until hehad studied it carefully with plenty of time at his disposal. Ithad been accordingly arranged that he should remove MiserrimusDexter to the asylum of which he was the proprietor as soon asthe preparations for receiving the patient could be completed.The one difficulty that still remained to be met related to thedisposal of the faithful creature who had never left her master,night or day, since the catastrophe had happened. Ariel had nofriends and no money. The proprietor of the asylum could not beexpected to receive her without the customary payment; and Mr.Dexter's brother "regretted to say that he was not rich enough tofind the money." A forcible separation from the one human beingwhom she loved, and a removal in the character of a pauper to apublic asylum--such was the prospect which awaited theunfortunate creature unless some one interfered in her favorbefore the end of the week.

Under these sad circumstances, good Mr. Playmore--passing overthe claims of economy in favor of the claims ofhumanity--suggested that we should privately start asubscription, and offered to head the list liberally himself.

I must have written all these pages to very little purpose if itis necessary for me to add that I instantly sent a letter to Mr.Dexter, the brother, undertaking to be answerable for whatevermoney was to be required while the subscriptions were beingcollected, and only stipulating that when Miserrimus Dexter wasremoved to the asylum, Ariel should accompany him. This wasreadily conceded. But serious objections were raised when Ifurther requested that she might be permitted to attend on hermaster in the asylum as she had attended on him in the house. Therules of the establishment forbade it, and the universal practicein such cases forbade it, and so on, and so on. However, by dintof perseverance and persuasion, I so far carried my point as togain a reasonable concession. During certain hours in the day,and under certain wise restrictions, Ariel was to be allowed theprivilege of waiting on the Master in his room, as well as ofaccompanying him when he was brought out in his chair to take theair in the garden. For the honor of humanity, let me add that theliability which I had undertaken made no very serious demands onmy resources. Placed in Benjamin's charge, our subscription-listprospered. Friends, and even strangers sometimes, opened theirhearts and their purses when they heard Ariel's melancholy story.

The day which followed the day of Mr. Playmore's visit broughtme news from Spain, in a letter from my mother-in-law. Todescribe what I felt when I broke the seal and read the firstlines is simply impossible. Let Mrs. Macallan be heard on thisoccasion in my place.

Thus she wrote:

"Prepare yourself, my dearest Valeria, for a delightfulsurprise. Eustace has justified my confidence in him. When hereturns to England, he returns--if you will let him--to his wife.

"This resolution, let me hasten to assure you, has not beenbrought about by any persuasions of mine. It is the naturaloutgrowth of your husband's gratitude and your husband's love.The first words he said to me, when he was able to speak, werethese: 'If I live to return to England, and if I go to Valeria,do you think she will forgive me?' We can only leave it to you,my dear, to give the answer. If you love us, answer us by returnof post.

"Having now told you what he said when I first informed him thatyou had been his nurse--and remember, if it seem very little,that he is still too weak to speak except with difficulty--Ishall purposely keep my letter back for a few days. My object isto give him time to think, and to frankly tell you of it if theinterval produce any change in his resolution.

"Three days have passed, and there is no change. He has but onefeeling now--he longs for the day which is to unite him again tohis wife.

"But there is something else connected with Eustace that youought to know, and that I ought to tell you.

"Greatly as time and suffering have altered him in many respects,there is no change, Valeria, in the aversion--the horror I mayeven say--with which he views your idea of inquiring anew intothe circumstances which attended the lamentable death of hisfirst wife. It makes no difference to him that you are onlyanimated by a desire to serve his interests. 'Has she given upthat idea? Are you positively sure she has given up that idea?'Over and over again he has put these questions to me. I haveanswered--what else could I do in the miserably feeble state inwhich he still lies?--I have answered in such a manner as tosoothe and satisfy him. I have said, 'Relieve your mind of allanxiety on that subject: Valeria has no choice but to give up theidea; the obstacles in her way have proved to beinsurmountable--the obstacles have conquered her.' This, if youremember, was what I really believed would happen when you and Ispoke of that painful topic; and I have heard nothing from yousince which has tended to shake my opinion in the smallestdegree. If I am right (as I pray God I may be) in the view that Itake, you h ave only to confirm me in your reply, and all will bewell. In the other event--that is to say, if you are stilldetermined to persevere in your hopeless project--then make upyour mind to face the result. Set Eustace's prejudices atdefiance in this particular, and you lose your hold on hisgratitude, his penitence, and his love--you will, in my belief,never see him again.

"I express myself strongly, in your own interests, my dear, andfor your own sake. When you reply, write a few lines to Eustace,inclosed in your letter to me.

"As for the date of our departure, it is still impossible for meto give you any definite information. Eustace recovers veryslowly; the doctor has not yet allowed him to leave his bed; andwhen we do travel we must journey by easy stages. It will be atleast six weeks, at the earliest, before we can hope to be backagain in dear Old England.

"Affectionately yours,

"CATHERINE MACALLAN."

I laid down the letter, and did my best (vainly enough for sometime) to compose my spirits. To understand the position in whichI now found myself, it is only necessary to remember onecircumstance: the messenger to whom we had committed ourinquiries was at that moment crossing the Atlantic on his way toNew York.

What was to be done?

I hesitated. Shocking as it may seem to some people, I hesitated.There was really no need to hurry my decision. I had the wholeday before me.

I went out and took a wretched, lonely walk, and turned thematter over in my mind. I came home again, and turned the matterover once more by the fireside. To offend and repel my darlingwhen he was returning to me, penitently returning of his own freewill, was what no woman in my position, and feeling as I did,could under any earthly circumstances have brought herself to do.And yet. on the other hand, how in Heaven's name could I give upmy grand enterprise at the very time when even wise and prudentMr. Playmore saw such a prospect of succeeding in it that he hadactually volunteered to help me? Placed between those two cruelalternatives, which could I choose? Think of your own frailties,and have some mercy on mine. I turned my back on both thealternatives. Those two agreeable fiends, Prevarication andDeceit, took me, as it were, softly by the hand: "Don't commityourself either way, my dear," they said, in their mostpersuasive manner. "Write just enough to compose yourmother-in-law and to satisfy your husband. You have got timebefore you. Wait and see if Time doesn't stand your friend, andget you out of the difficulty."

Infamous advice! And yet I took it--I, who had been well broughtup, and who ought to have known better. You who read thisshameful confession would have known better, I am sure. _You_ arenot included, in the Prayer-book category, among the "miserablesinners."

Well! well! let me have virtue enough to tell the truth. Inwriting to my mother-in-law, I informed her that it had beenfound necessary to remove Miserrimus Dexter to an asylum--and Ileft her to draw her own conclusions from that fact,unenlightened by so much as one word of additional information.In the same way, I told my husband a part of the truth, and nomore. I said I forgave him with all my heart--and I did! I saidhe had only to come to me, and I would receive him with openarms--and so I would! As for the rest, let me say withHamlet--"The rest is silence."

Having dispatched my unworthy letters, I found myself growingrestless, and feeling the want of a change. It would be necessaryto wait at least eight or nine days before we could hope to hearby telegraph from New York. I bade farewell for a time to my dearand admirable Benjamin, and betook myself to my old home in theNorth, at the vicarage of my uncle Starkweather. My journey toSpain to nurse Eustace had made my peace with my worthyrelatives; we had exchanged friendly letters; and I had promisedto be their guest as soon as it was possible for me to leaveLondon.

I passed a quiet and (all things considered) a happy time amongthe old scenes. I visited once more the bank by the river-side,where Eustace and I had first met. I walked again on the lawn andloitered through the shrubbery--those favorite haunts in which wehad so often talked over our troubles, and so often forgottenthem in a kiss. How sadly and strangely had our lives been partedsince that time! How uncertain still was the fortune which thefuture had in store for us!

The associations amid which I was now living had their softeningeffect on my heart, their elevating influence over my mind. Ireproached myself, bitterly reproached myself, for not havingwritten more fully and frankly to Eustace. Why had I hesitated tosacrifice to him my hopes and my interests in the cominginvestigation? _He_ had not hesitated, poor fellow--_his_ firstthought was the thought of his wife!

I had passed a fortnight with my uncle and aunt before I heardagain from Mr. Playmore. When a letter from him arrived at last,it disappointed me indescribably. A telegram from our messengerinformed us that the lodge-keeper's daughter and her husband hadleft New York, and that he was still in search of a trace ofthem.

There was nothing to be done but to wait as patiently as wecould, on the chance of hearing better news. I remained in theNorth, by Mr. Playmore's advice, so as to be within an easyjourney to Edinburgh--in case it might be necessary for me toconsult him personally. Three more weeks of weary expectationpassed before a second letter reached me. This time it wasimpossible to say whether the news were good or bad. It mighthave been either--it was simply bewildering. Even Mr. Playmorehimself was taken by surprise. These were the last wonderfulwords--limited of course by considerations of economy--whichreached us (by telegram) from our agent in America:

"Open the dust-heap at Gleninch."