“'They might be, in your case,' she answered, mournfully; 'for you have made God your friend, and justice your strong tower. But I--what have I to hope for in God? He has not been in all my thoughts; and now will He not mock at my calamity?' “'No--no, my unhappy friend!' I answered. 'He never turns from any; it is we who turn from Him. His tender mercy is over all His works. All human souls are alike precious in His eyes. If you trust in Him, you need not fear your bitterest enemies.' “'How shall I trust in him?' “She bent towards me eagerly. “'In the simple work of doing right,' said I. “'Doing right?' “She did not clearly understand me. “Do you think it would be right to let a charge of crime lie, unrepelled, against you; a great crime, such as is alleged--destroying your good name, and throwing a shadow of disgrace over your children!' “'No,' was her unhesitating reply. “'Then it would be wrong for you to suffer a divorce to issue on the ground of infidelity, without a defence of yourself by every legal means in your power. Do right, then, in so defending yourself, and trust in God for the result.' “I shudder at the bare thought of a public trial,' she answered. “'Don't think of anything but right action, said I. If you would have the Hosts of Heaven on your side, give them power by doing the right; and they will surely achieve for you the victory over all your enemies. Have any steps been taken by Mr. Dewey?' “'I fear so.' “'How long is it since your husband entertained this purpose?' “'I think it has been growing in his mind ever since that unhappy affair at Saratoga.' “As she said this, her thoughts seemed to turn aside upon something else, and she sat looking down upon the floor in a state of deep abstraction. At last, taking a long breath, she looked up, and said with trembling lips and a husky voice, “'I have something more to tell you. There is another aspect to this miserable affair.' “And she drew forth a crumpled letter. “'I found this, sealed, and directed, lying on the floor of my husband's room, two days ago. It is in his hand writing; addressed to a lady in New York, and signed R. D. I will read you its contents.' And she unfolded the letter, and read: “'My dearest Caroline,' it began; and then went on for a few paragraphs, in a lover-like strain; after which, the divorce from the writer's wife was referred to as a thing of speedy attainment, there being little fear of opposition on her part, as he had given her to understand that he had witnesses ready to prove her criminal conduct; if she dared to resist his will in the matter. 'A few months of patient waiting, dearest Caroline,' was the concluding sentence, 'and then for that happy consummation we have so long desired.' “'What do you think of that?' asked poor Delia, looking almost wildly into my face.