Hour after hour moved slowly by, but still the husband of Margaretta
appeared not; and when the twilight fell, it came with a strange
uncertain fear to the heart of the young wife.
"What _can_ keep him so late, aunt?" she said, anxiously, as the
lights were brought in.
"Indeed, my child, I cannot tell. I hope that nothing is wrong."
"Wrong, aunt? What can be wrong?" and Margaretta looked her aunt
eagerly and inquiringly in the face.
"I am sure, my child, I do not know. Something unusual must detain
him, and I only hope that something may be evil neither to him nor
yourself."
Again there was a deep and painful silence--painful at least to one
heart, trembling with an undefinable sensation of fear.
"There he is!" ejaculated Margaretta springing to her feet, as the
bell rang, and hurrying to the door before the servant had time to
open it.
"Here is a letter for Mrs. Smith," said a stranger, handing her a
sealed note, and then withdrawing quickly.
It was with difficulty that the young wife could totter back to the
parlour, where she seated herself by the table, and with trembling
hands broke the seal of the letter that had been given her. Her eyes
soon took in the brief words it contained.
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