“Money will do anything,” repeated the fond lumberman; “true, money will do everything.” But how? When, and where? These questions were all puzzling. IV. There was a dark-faced inspector, a man-of-all-work in lumber camp, called Roland, who had often called at Arthur’s, and who occasionally partook a little too freely of Northern fire-water, as the Indians term it, and whose poverty at such times would consent to almost anything, on one pretence and another. Young Roland was sent to inquire if Mr. Arthur was in, or if Mrs. Arthur needed shopping done, or errands attended to, with instructions to hint that his employer was seen riding out with the enchantress in a cutter, seemingly on the way to another village. These little irritations were to be repeated for effect, but no effect seems probable. They did create some inquiry, and at such dates of confidential conferences Mrs. Arthur was alone with the hireling spy and listened to his inferences of her husband’s indiscretions. Neither by word nor deed nor murmur did Caroline exhibit a sign or symbol of her unhappiness, save by the deeper lines and paler countenance that easily escaped detection to one who barely looked her in the eyes twice a day for months together. It was a failure; she would never act, he must take the initiative. Armed with a sworn affidavit of her infidelity with Roland on a recent occasion, together with further papers to complete their separation and settle an alimony of a few thousand dollars as her share of their large property, Cyrus Arthur visited his wife late at night as a robber would call for her jewels, and demanded a complete surrender. Stunned and shocked, and overcome by the intelligence, she wept most bitterly, pleaded, begged, and implored her husband, in the name of Heaven, to spare her and her _children_ from a disgrace so terrible. The sighing of the pines in a Northern forest would have moved him as soon from his purpose. She was between him and an envied object; he must succeed. He was already goaded to desperation. Seizing the part of her plea relating to her little girls, he made the worst of it. “If you would spare yourself and them from disgrace eternally, make no denial and all shall be secret, and no one the wiser.” “Can this be true?” asked the distracted mother of the other’s lawyer. “Yes,” he replied, cases have been heard on default and divorces granted, and not one scrap of bill or answer ever published. “What is a bill and answer?” questioned the little woman in her tears, for she never dreamed of a divorce between her and her husband till that moment. “It is the ground and denial for divorce,” replied the attorney. “Cyrus Arthur,” said his wife, as she looked at the eyes that evaded her earnestness, “do you mean this proceeding, or are you trifling?” “I am in earnest,” he answered.