who, when her need was greatest, went to her, telling her that he had
never been far from her, but had watched over her vigilantly to see that
no harm came to her. When her husband went to Paris he knew it through a
detective, and from the same source knew when he went to Pau, where all
trace of him had been lost.

'But we are sure to find him again,' he said, encouragingly; 'and
meantime I shall see that you do not suffer. As an old friend of your
husband, you will allow me to care for you until he is found.'

And Amy, who had no alternative, accepted his care, and tried to seem
cheerful and brave while waiting for the husband who never came back.

At last when all hope of seeing him again was gone, Arthur sent her home
to the cottage in the lane, where her mother received her gladly,
thanking Heaven that she had her daughter back again. But not for long.
Poor Amy's heart was broken. She loved her husband devotedly, and his
cruel desertion of her--for she knew now it was that--hurt her more than
years of suffering with him could have done. Occasionally she heard from
Arthur, who was still busy in search of the delinquent, and who always
sent in his letter a substantial proof of his friendship and generosity.

And so the weeks and months went by; and then, one day, there came a
letter in the well-known handwriting. But it was Mrs. Crawford who
opened it and read that Harold Hastings was dead: that Amy was free, and
that Arthur Tracy, who through all had loved her just as well as when he
first asked her to be his wife, now put the question again, offering to
make her the mistress of Tracy Park and surround her with every possible
comfort.