Once more Marion's departure was delayed. Edward urged that his sister would be obliged to yield to the evidence of her husband's crimes, and would need the sympathy of a loving friend; but not once had the long-suffering wife alluded to the subject of their conversation. She often spoke of her husband; and sometimes cast a quick glance around, as if she feared to meet looks of scorn; but she talked with baby of dear papa, "poor papa, way off, all alone," till Hannah could not keep back her tears. September came and passed, and still no tidings of the absent one. Marion had returned to Chicago; and at last Gertrude made no effort to detain her. A terrible fear that she was forsaken began to make her nights wakeful and her pillow moist with tears. She thought it would be a luxury to be alone with her grief, with no loving eyes watching her every motion. Marion had promised to send her Mr. Curtis' full address; and as soon as she received it, she requested Edward to copy a letter she had written to the gentleman. It was briefly asking him to impart confidentially to the writer any facts he knew concerning Mr. Dudley. Mr. Curtis' answer was extremely guarded. He spoke of Paul as a good business man, who had done him great service, etc., etc., without coming to the point at all. "Will you give him up now?" inquired her brother, tenderly. "I would give half I am worth to be able to say, 'His enemies have slandered him without a cause;' but I heard only last week that his character is vile; and when I remember how coolly he parted from you; how deliberately he was planning to defraud you of your little fortune, I am forced to the conclusion that when he went, he did not intend to return." Gertrude sank on a chair and burst into tears. For a long time she had not allowed herself such a luxury; and now she could not immediately regain self-command. "Wait six months longer," she urged at last, trying to control her voice. "Something will certainly happen in that time." When the spring came and Paul was a year old, she plead again. "Wait till fall." Two years from the hour she parted from her husband, the law had set her free. Paul Dudley was no longer her husband, and even his parents, whom Edward had visited in Philadelphia, confessed she had borne more than could be expected. Alas, they knew their son had fallen! that their fond hopes were blasted, and learned too late the truth of the inspired words; "'The rod and reproof give wisdom; but a child left to himself, bringeth his mother to shame.'" Through all these weary days and these trying scenes, Gertrude, hopeful and faithful Gertrude, quieted the anguish of her heart by the thought: "God is my Father and friend. He knows all things from the beginning; and has some wise purpose to accomplish by all these trials."