And the majority joined in the last anthem,--“a sham, a pretext,” a trick to turn off his worn-out wife and marry that impious trader in unvirtue and immorality. Press interviews were had, and the dear little lady of clean hands and honest heart, whose soul shone as a diamond in the filth of foul slander around her, utterly and consistently refuted and denied the whole story, and related its history with marvellous circumstantial evidence to convince any reasonable person of her truthfulness. Indignation knew no bounds; a firm of able lawyers at once filed a cross bill, and a prayer to set aside the fraudulent bill and another to annul all conveyances to Arthur; and within almost as brief a limit as he had secured his decree she had been restored to her rights with a divorce from Arthur and a thirty-thousand-dollar settlement. He was driven from the city in infamy, and she lived on in honor; but the stain on the children was of a nature more permanent. UNROMANTIC MARRIAGES. Grace Hartwell graduated at Hillsdale College in 18--, and settled as an assistant teacher in the Union school on College Hill, living with her mother across the narrow river near by, where she would pass the old homestead of Richard Baker, son of a well-to-do farmer adjoining the village, and who early became interested in the fair young teacher. Grace was a full brunette, of fairer complexion than is common to her school of beauty. She was beautiful, with well rounded arms, heavy black hair, rosy lips, white hands, eyes of marked expression--eyes that stood out full, and shone in striking contrasts, the black portion and the white being clear and sharply defined. Grace was no less a beauty than a dreamer, and longed for the kind of change that best suits a girl of her quick, passionate, and impulsive nature--a marriage. Richard was below the medium size, with very light hair, of slim figure, reticent of speech, shy and bashful, especially so in the presence of Grace, whom he met at parties, donations, and college receptions, so frequent and amusing in their lively village. Both went too long a distance for their dinner to make the trip agreeable, and both often carried their daily lunches in little baskets for convenience. On their homeward trips they met occasionally, bowed, passed the time of day, chatted of the last night’s party. It was growing so much of a custom with Richard to meet these road-side appointments, self-made, and well timed to match his lonely companion, that they soon became a matter of each day’s history. Grace was willing to listen, Richard was anxious to turn aside from his regular pathway and go round a square to bear her company. They were in love without romance, and against both the belief and expectation of all their associates.