“So I am going away, Norman, but do not add to your troubles the fear lest I shall drown myself, as your wife advised me to do. I am quite wretched enough to do it, but you will have sorrow enough to bear without that. And I can not throw away my life, because you saved it, and I hold it sacred to you. But you will never see me again. I shall go far away with my child, and live out my unhappy life in silence and obscurity. I have given trouble enough to that poor creature upstairs. Be kind to her, Norman, for the loss of your love seems to have driven her mad. “Oh, how good you have been to me, Norman! She told me all. Even in my babyhood it was my fate to come between your heart and hers. How could she believe that cruel story, and you so noble and so good? But it was her jealous nature. For me, I could not see a fault in you if the whole world bore witness. I have loved you and believed in you always. My heart went to you the first time I saw you on that mysterious journey when you saved my life. It never left you. It remains with you now, while I go out of your life forever. May it be a talisman to guard you from all evil. “I have no fault to find with you, Norman, although you did not marry me for love, but to shield me from a hideous slander. It was very noble in you, and you carried out the farce of love so well I never knew the difference. I shall try to cheat my heart with the fancy that you did learn to love me a little--at least, after Baby Alan came, of whom you were so proud, and now, alas! poor little one. “Farewell, Norman. Perhaps you may learn to forgive her and love her again. I shall pray always for your happiness, but you must forget poor “SWEETHEART.” “My God, I must find her! She can not go out of my life like this, my love--my wife in the sight of Heaven, whatever man’s laws may say to the contrary! Our child, our darling, puts a holier seal on our marriage--makes it more binding than the irksome time that bound me to that fiend Camille,” the stricken man raved aloud in his agony of despair. CHAPTER LXII. If Norman believes that the spell of his love is strong enough to trace Sweetheart in her flight, he is mistaken. Days elapse, and he has not found the first clew. If she has left the city, he can not ascertain by what route, and if she is still in Jacksonville, she is hidden so cleverly that a private detective can not find her out. She is quite gone out of her husband’s life--gone as mysteriously as she had come into it first sixteen years ago a little golden-haired fairy.