"Alas, Algernon! necessity left me no alternative in my unhappy choice.
I was deceived--cruelly deceived. Yet would to God that I had begged my
bread, and dared every hardship--been spurned from the presence of the
rich, and endured the contempt of the poor, before I consented to become
his wife."

"But what strange infatuation induced you to throw away your own
happiness, and ruin mine? Did not my letters constantly breathe the
most ardent affection? Were not the sums of money constantly remitted in
them more than sufficient to supply all your wants?"

"Algernon, I never received the sums you name, not even a letter from
you after the third year of our separation."

"Can this be true?" exclaimed Algernon, grasping her arm. "Is it
possible that this statement can be true?"

"As true as that I now stand before you a betrayed, forsaken,
heart-broken woman."

"Poor Elinor; how can I look into that sad face, and believe you false?"

"God bless you, my once dear friend, for these kind words. You know not
the peace they convey to my aching heart. Oh, Algernon, my sufferings
have been dreadful; and there were times when I ceased to know those
sufferings. They called me mad, but I was happy then. My dreams were of
you. I thought myself your wife, and my misery as Mark's helpmate was
forgotten. When sanity returned, the horrible consciousness that you
believed me a heartless, ungrateful, avaricious woman, was the worst
pang of all. Oh, how I longed to throw myself at your feet, and tell you