The final conclusion of the agonized husband was to abandon his wife at once, taking with him the corroborating evidence of her unfaithfulness.  He returned to her private drawer, and taking from it the letters of Westfield and the braid of hair, placed them in his pocket.  He then packed his clothes and private papers in a trunk, which he ordered to be sent to Gadsby’s Hotel.  Half an hour, before his wife’s return, he had abandoned her for ever.

When Mrs. Miller came home, it was as late as tea-time.  She was accompanied by Westfield, who came into the house with his usual familiarity, intending to share with the family in their evening meal, and enjoy a social hour afterward.

Finding that her husband was not in the parlour—­it was past the usual hour of his return—­nor anywhere in the house, Mrs. Miller inquired if he had not been home.

“Oh yes, ma’am,” said the servant to whom she spoke, “he came home more than two hours ago.”

“Did he go out again?” she asked, without suspicion of any thing being wrong.

“Yes, ma’am.  He went up-stairs and stayed a good while, and then came down and told Ben to take his trunk to Gadsby’s.”

The face of Mrs. Miller blanched in an instant.  She turned quickly away and ran up to her chamber.  Her drawer, which she had not noticed before, stood open.  She eagerly seized her precious casket; this, too, was open, and the contents gone!  Strength and consciousness remained long enough for her to reach the bed, upon which she fell, fainting.

When the life-blood once more flowed through her veins, and she was sufficiently restored to see what was passing around her, she found the servants and Westfield standing by her bedside.  The latter looked anxiously into her face.  She motioned him to come near.  As he bent his ear low toward her face, she whispered—­

“Leave me.  You must never again visit this house, nor appear to be on terms of intimacy with me.”

“Why?”

“Go, Mr. Westfield.  Let what I have said suffice.  Neither of us have acted with the prudence that should have governed our conduct, all things considered.  Go at once!  In time you will know enough, and more than enough.”

Westfield still hesitated, but Mrs. Miller motioned him away with an imperative manner; he then withdrew, looking earnestly back at every step.

A glass of wine and water was ordered by Anna, after drinking which, she arose from the bed, and desired all her domestics to leave the room.

Meantime, her husband was suffering the most poignant anguish of mind.  On retiring to a hotel, he sent for the brother of his wife, and to him submitted the letters he had taken from Anna’s casket.  After they had been hurriedly perused, he said—­

“You know the intimacy of Westfield with Anna.  Put that fact alongside of these letters and their careful preservation, and what is your conclusion?”