“I thank you, Colonel Murdock, and beg you to excuse me for troubling you,” and with a smile upon her lips, and a manner perfectly calm, she left him, and soon after went to her room. It is folly to try to describe the long horrors of that night. They had to be lived through, and Clara counted the hours one by one, for she never touched her bed nor dreamed of sleeping. Early in the evening she had packed her trunk, carefully putting away in Albert’s, everything that belonged to him. Some time during the night, she wrote a note to him. The stage was to leave early in the morning. A little while before it started, she ordered a cup of coffee and sent for the landlord. He came in bland and smiling, and asked what he could do to serve her. “Mr. Hammond,” she said, with the air of one confident of carrying all points. “I must leave this morning, and I wish you to loan me fifty dollars.” “Well, madam, doubtless your husband——” “No, no,” she said, cutting him short. “I must have it on my own responsibility. Take my watch as security, and understand that my husband is not to pay this under any circumstances. I shall return you the money without delay.” The polite landlord refused the security, and furnished the money. This, with what Clara had in her purse, enabled her to just meet her traveling expenses, and to pay the hotel bill of herself and her guest, Miss Wills, which had been running since Albert left. A few minutes later, after running the gauntlet of a few curious boarders lounging on the veranda, the smiling landlord handed Clara into the coach with great deference. CHAPTER XXVII. THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE.