resolved that she shall not continue to be an inmate of this house."

He paused, and Mrs. Marston said--

"Well, Richard, I am sorry, very sorry for it; but your decision shall
never be disputed by me."

"Of course," said Marston, drily; "and, therefore, the sooner you
acquaint her with it, and let her know that she must go, the better."

Having said this, he left her, and went to his own chamber, where he
proceeded to make his toilet with elaborate propriety, in preparation for
the scene which was about to take place under his roof.

Mrs. Marston, meanwhile, suffered from a horrible uncertainty. She never
harbored, it is true, one doubt as to her husband's perfect innocence of
the ghastly crime which filled their house with fear and gloom; but at
the same time that she thoroughly and indignantly scouted the possibility
of his, under any circumstances, being accessory to such a crime, she
experienced a nervous and agonizing anxiety lest anyone else should
possibly suspect him, however obliquely and faintly, of any participation
whatever in the foul deed. This vague fear tortured her; it had taken
possession of her mind; and it was the more acutely painful, because it
was of a kind which precluded the possibility of her dispelling it, as
morbid fears so often are dispelled, by taking counsel upon its
suggestions with a friend.

The day wore on, and strange faces began to fill the great parlor. The
coroner, accompanied by a physician, had arrived. Several of the gentry
in the immediate vicinity had been summoned as jurors, and now began to