Whether she had, in the depth of her despair, taken her own life; whether, to free herself from the noxious presence of Russell, she had disguised herself and fled to parts unknown; whether she had been spirited away by some of his familiar spectres, or whether, in his complete obsession of her, the unprincipled scoundrel had abducted her, could not be learned. She was gone, and the unfortunate mother had leisure to inquire of her own conscience, how far she had been to blame for this tragedy in her home. Professor Russell had not been seen in the neighborhood again, and during Alice’s convalescence the unfortunate events occurring during her illness, as well as those preceding it, were rarely alluded to, and her friends were delighted to find her apparently happier and brighter than formerly. Lissa, too, had largely recovered her normal condition, owing chiefly to Tibby’s influence, and the world looked brighter to some of the actors in this part of it. The exposure of the deception practised upon them, added to the mysterious disappearance of Esther upon the same night of Russell’s departure, staggered the belief of many of his converts, and no seances were held in the neighborhood. The weeks wore away, and yet Mrs. Wylie remained at her brother’s home. She felt as if Alice really needed the companionship of Tibby and herself. In the early autumn Mr. Wylie was going to New York on business and would call for her, and together they would go East. The sojourn had been a pleasant one for Mrs. Wylie, despite the tragedies enacted, the excitement, and the absence of the fashionable circle of her friends. Her little boy had grown brown and stout-limbed in his liberty, and she herself was rested and happy. The long letters from her husband, which came with unfailing regularity, filled with news and anecdotes of the life in which he lived, helped to break the monotony of rural life, and as September approached and she began to look forward to his coming, the little estrangements were forgotten and Nellie Wylie dwelt fondly upon her husband’s perfections as she talked of him to her sister-in-law. “You cannot think, Alice, what a wonderful business man Horace is,” she said as they sat in the little doorway of the house one beautiful September evening watching the sun sink behind the fringe of cotton-wood trees in the distant west. “If he were to fail in business to-day he would be on sound footing to-morrow. He seems to know instinctively what to do. I need never have any fear for the future, having him to rely on.” “He has been very kind to allow you to stay with us so long. He must be very lonely without his family,” Alice replied.