Mr. Rutherford had passed a sleepless night; the long hours had been spent in running over the sad circuit of his misfortunes, and in endeavoring to extricate himself from the tangled maze in which he was involved. His wife would most willingly have been the partner of his cares, and spent the day and night in labor, either of body or of mind. But no--he must not, he cannot disturb the quiet of her bosom; he will yet, he fondly hopes, weather it through, and she shall never know the struggle his spirit has borne. And thus it would have been, and thus his proud and tender heart would have ached in secret, and cloistered all its trials, until it broke beneath the accumulated load; but a kind Providence was watching around his sleepless bed, and knew all that he could bear, and was preparing the way that would, in spite of himself, break open his secret sorrows, and compel him to unbosom himself to her whose gentle spirit would pour out its sweet consolations into his troubled heart, brace up his worn-out feelings, and lay them calmly to rest amid the soothings of love; earthly, it may be, but a bright emblem of that in which the weary soul will sweetly repose when the trials and toils of life are over. The watching and busy thoughts of the night past were too visible the next morning to escape the eye of love; and as his Mary entered the room where he was seated, waiting for their early meal, she could not help saying to him, 'You are sick, dear George; I know you are.' Before he could reply there was a knock at the door, and Mr. Rutherford was summoned into an adjoining apartment. The gentleman expressed his regret for the business upon which he had come; he handed to Mr. Rutherford a paper, which proved to be an attachment upon his beautiful homestead, and the land connected with it. 'You have, no doubt, heard, sir, that the Quarry Company has gone to pieces; and as you appear to be the only responsible one among them, the person named in that paper, and to whom they are largely indebted, feels compelled to take this step, although very reluctantly.' This explanation was sufficient; Mr. Rutherford perceived the dilemma to which things had at length come. His visitor, having no further business, withdrew; and as he closed the door upon him, he retired again by himself, and was seated by a table with the paper in his hand, when his wife entered the room, and closed the door. 'My dear George, you must let me know what is the matter. You cannot hide from me, that there is some great trouble upon you. Tell me, my dear husband, tell me what it is'--and she threw herself upon her knees before him, and clasping her arms about him, looked up with intense interest beaming from her dark hazel eyes. 'We are ruined, Mary! my property, the inheritance of my ancestors, is all, I fear, to be swept away from me.'