from his high estate of manhood, each time sinking lower and lower,
and each time recovering himself from the fall with greater
difficulty than before! He might never rise again. The chances were
largely against him.

How the wretched woman longed for yet dreaded the return of her
husband! If he had been drinking again, as she feared, there, was
before her a night of anguish and terror--a night which might have
for her no awaking in the world. But she had learned to dread some
things more than death.

Time wore on until it was past the hour for General Abercrombie's
return, and yet there was no sign of his coming. At last the loud
clang of the supper-bell ringing through the halls gave her a sudden
start. She clasped her hands across her forehead, while a look of
anguish convulsed her face, then held them tightly against her heart
and groaned aloud.

"God pity us both!" she cried, in a low, wailing voice, striking her
hands together and lifting upward her eyes, that were full of the
deepest anguish.

For a few moments her eyes were upraised. Then her head sunk forward
upon her bosom, and she sat an image of helpless despair.

A knock at the door roused her. She started to her feet and opened
it with nervous haste.

"A letter for you," said a servant.