And the child was right. On the following day as the sun was sinking
in the west, Montague Arnold was sinking into his last slumber.
Respiration became difficult, and his words were almost inaudible.
As his wife knelt beside him, and clasped the cold hands within her
own, she tried hard to appear calm.
"You forgive all, Eve?"
A kiss upon the rigid lips was the silent but expressive answer.
A fervent "God Almighty bless you," a faint sigh and Montague Arnold
had sought another and we trust a better home.
Mrs. Arnold is truly a widow in a strange land, yet He who is the
husband of the widow has not forsaken her. The aged gentleman, his
dutiful daughter and the lovely Lalia have given her the warmest
sympathy, and taken her to their snug and cosey home.
Only a few weeks had passed away since Evelyn had written
Marguerite, but how much had transpired in that time? It was when
she had received a second letter that the thought occurred that she
had been remiss.
"Marguerite, sweet girl! she will never knew what I have suffered,"
and with these words upon her lips Mrs. Arnold sat down and penned
as much of her sad story as she then thought fit to confide.
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