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distant place. At length his remittances fail, — 

 his letters cease ; — she is alarmed ; — she mus- 

 ters all her skill at penmanship and writes, but 

 gets no reply. Her children want bread ; she 

 is reduced to the utmost distress ; but, suddenly 

 summoning all her energies, she seeks and finds 

 employment, and manages to live. But of her 

 husband no tidings ; day and night she lives in 

 fear and sorrow ; — he must be dead, or he would 

 certainly write. At length, however, comes the 

 intelligence that he has chosen a paramour, and 

 is expending upon her the gains which should 

 support his family. Stung to the quick, she 

 rises up in grief and indignation. She finds 

 some good neighbour to care for her children 

 for a few days, and she departs — alas ! on a 

 melancholy expedition ! She is utterly strange 

 to the world — no matter ; she has little money 

 — no matter ; in the greatness of her vexation 

 she defies all other troubles and difficulties. 

 See with what closeness and self-reservation she 

 moves on ! She greets no one, — she shuns all 

 greetings by the way, or if she answers them, it 

 is only by a short, sharp nod, and she involunta- 

 rily quickens her pace. Rest, food, she seems 

 not to require ; her heart is filled with black 

 and eager jealousies, and she shrinks even from 

 the kindest eye, lest it look into the secret of 

 her soul. Poor, unhappy woman ! her task is a 



