“‘What do you think of that?’ asked poor Delia, looking almost wildly into my face.

“‘I think,’ said I, ’that you hold in your hands the means of safety.  Your husband will not dare to force you into a defensive position, when he learns that you have this document in your possession.  It would tell strongly against him and his perjured witnesses if produced in court.  Then take heart, my friend.  This worst evil that you dreaded will not come to pass.  If a divorce is granted, it will have to be on some different allegation.’

“She grasped my hand, and said, ’Oh, do you think so?  Do you think so?’”

“‘I am sure of it,’ was my confident answer.  ’Sure of it.  Why the man would only damage his cause, and disgrace himself, by venturing into a trial with a witness like this against him.’”

“‘Oh, bless you for such confidently assuring words!’ and the poor creature threw herself forward, and laid her face upon my bosom.  For the first time she wept, and for a season, oh how wildly!  You will not wonder that my tears fell almost as fast as hers.

“‘I turned in my despair to you,’ she said, on growing calm, ’you whom I loved, and almost revered, in the earlier and better days of my life, and my heart tells me that I have not turned in vain.  Into the darkness that surrounded me like the pall of death, a little light has already penetrated.’”

“May it shine unto the perfect day!” I answered fervently.

“And, dear husband! it will shine,” said Constance, a glow of enthusiasm lighting up her face, and giving it a new beauty, “even unto the perfect day!  Not the perfect day of earthly bliss—­for I think the sun of that day has gone down never to rise again for her—­but the perfect day of that higher life, which to many comes not, except through the gates of tribulation.”

CHAPTER XXII.

I was shocked and distressed by the painful revelation which Mrs. Dewey had made to Constance.  A sadder history in real life I had never heard.

A few days after this memorable visit to the Allen House, a note was received by my wife, containing this single word, “Come,” and signed Delia.

“Any change in the aspect of affairs?” I inquired of Constance on her return.

“Yes.  Mrs. Dewey has received notice, in due form, of her husband’s application for a divorce.”

“What has she done?”

“Nothing yet.  It was to ask my advice as to her best course that she sent for me.”

“And what advice did you give her?”

“I gave none.  First, I must consult you.”

I shook my head and replied,

“It will not do for me to be mixed up in this affair, Constance.”

Worldly prudence spoke there.

My wife laid her hand upon my arm, and looking calmly in my face, said,

“The right way is always a safe way.”