latter, instead of rejoicing at this providential release from
temptation, fretted at the loss of her paramour, attributing, however,
her fitful humor to her delicate condition.

Shortly after Grandison's departure for Chicago I was summoned to
attend Mrs. Hazelton, who gave birth to a fine boy. Mr. Hazelton was
in ecstasy at the thought of becoming a father; he gave a grand
entertainment on the occasion of the child's christening, and when
the guests all agreed that the child had "its father's nose" (which
was doubtless the truth) the poor man's delight knew no bounds.
Mrs. Hazelton gradually began to be more cheerful, and to try in
some measure to make amends to her husband for the wrong which could
never be repaired. When, however, he carried her baby up and down,
or fondled it upon his knee, the bitter pangs of remorse gnawed at
her heart, and made her captious and bad tempered. With all this
there was no deep repentance, and when Grandison came to Montreal
for his holidays, her husband was completely forgotten once more.
Grandison was invited to stay at the Hazeltons' residence, an
invitation which to do him justice he endeavored to decline, but
Mr. Hazelton pressed him so strongly that he was afraid to awaken
suspicion by refusing, and so the wolf became ensconced snugly in
the sheepfold, not only without difficulty, but on the pressing
invitation of its occupants. Mrs. Hazelton during this visit urged
Grandison so strongly that he promised to elope with her so soon as
he could conveniently leave Chicago.

He had not been long back at his new residence when his wife died,
and letters of condolence were sent to him from all quarters. His
wife, who had never been received into society, was suddenly
discovered to have been one of its brightest ornaments, and her loss