"You were thrown out of a buggy and fractured your arm in the fall."

She thought it best to tell the truth at once.

Memory flew back to her deserted throne, and dimly the events of

that evening's revel passed through his mind. A flush of shame rose

to his temples, and, turning his head toward the wall, he hid his

face in the pillow. Then Beulah heard a deep, shuddering sigh and a

groan of remorseful agony. After a long silence, he said, in a tone

of humiliation that drew tears to her eyes: "How long have I been here?"

She told him the number of days, and he immediately asked, "Have I been in any danger?"

"Yes; very great danger; out that has all passed now, and if you

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will only be composed and careful you will soon be strong again."

"I heard my father talking to you. Who else is here?"

He looked at her with eager interest.

"No one else, except our kind matron. Mr. Graham came as soon as the

letter reached him, and has not left the house since."

A look of indescribable sorrow and shame swept over his countenance

as he continued bitterly: "And did Antoinette know all at once? Stop, Beulah; tell me the

miserable truth. Did she know all and still remain away?"

"She knew all that had been communicated to Mr. Graham when he came;

and he has written to her every day. He is now writing to inform her

that you are better."

She shrank from giving the pain she was conscious her words

inflicted.

"I deserve it all! Yes, ingratitude, indifference, and desertion! If

I had died she would have heard it unmoved. Oh, Cornelia, Cornelia,

it is a fearful retribution; more bitter than death!" Averting his

face, his whole frame trembled with ill-concealed emotion.

"Eugene, you must compose yourself. Remember you jeopardize your

life by this sort of excitement."

"Why didn't you let me die? What have I to live for? A name

disgraced and a wife unloving and heartless! What has the future but

wretchedness and shame?"

"Not unless you will it so. You should want to live to retrieve your

character, to take an honorable position, which, hitherto, you have

recklessly forfeited; to make the world respect you, your wife

revere you, and your child feel that she may be proud of her father!

Ah, Eugene, all this the future calls you to do."

He looked up at her as she stood beside him, pale, thin, and weary,

and his feeble voice faltered, as he asked: "Beulah, my best friend, my sister, do you quite despise me?"