“What can it mean?” murmured the young wife, as, bitterly disappointed, she turned slowly back toward the library. Just then the hall bell rang, and almost mechanically she went to open the door herself, although she was never in the habit of doing so. A messenger-boy stood there and handed her a telegram. She signed for it, and then with trembling fingers tore it open. The words which met her startled gaze were fraught with terrible significance to her: “Close house immediately. Go to the —— Hotel. Remain there until my return. “TRUMAN H. WINTHROP.” This, then, was the answer to her letter of confession, the first and only words she had received from him since she wrote it. He had received it, and perhaps one from his mother also, with her version of all that had passed. He recognized the delicate, precarious—possibly he felt disgraceful position in which they were all placed, and he had concluded that it would not do for her to remain in his house, nominally his wife, when she had no legal right there. In her sensitive and overwrought state of mind it seemed equivalent to an acknowledgment that their marriage had only been a farce, and therefore his standing, as well as her own, would be compromised if she remained there. She knew where the —— Hotel was; she knew that it was quiet and unpretentious, a place where she would not be likely to be known or recognized by any of Dr. Winthrop’s acquaintances. And now the very consideration which he had shown for her feelings and comfort in this respect she turned in judgment against him, strange as it may seem, and it goes to show how easily people mistake the motives of others. He had not asked her to go with his mother and sister, who of course would return to their own home if his house was to be closed; but she was to hide herself in this quiet hotel, and there await his return to have her fate decided. The more she thought about it, the more morbid she became, the more she distorted and misinterpreted the meaning of the message, and her proud spirit rose in rebellion at being so summarily and unjustly dealt with. With a heavy and aching heart she dragged herself upstairs, shut herself in her chamber, and did not go down again that day. The next morning she made her appearance as usual at the breakfast-table, but, to the surprise of madam and Evelyn, she was clad in a travelling-costume. She was very pale and wan; there were dark circles under her eyes, but a very resolute expression about her sweet mouth which betrayed that she had arrived at some very grave decision.