“Would it not be well for you to call in and see her to-morrow?  The papers will all announce the fact in the morning, and she may need the consolation which a true friend might be able to afford her.”

“I will go, most certainly, much as my natural feelings shrink from the task.  Where she is, I am sure she has no one to lean upon:  for there is not one of her so-called friends, upon whom she feels herself a burden, that can or will sympathize with her truly.”

“Go, then.  And may mercy’s errand find mercy’s reward.”

On the next morning all the city papers teemed with accounts of the late forgery, and blazoned Charles Wilton’s name, with many opprobrious epithets before the public.  Some went even so far as to allude to his wife, whom they said he had forsaken years before, and who was now, it was alleged, living in poverty, and, some hinted in disgrace and infamy.

Early in the day, Mrs. Gray repaired to the cheerless home of her early friend.  She was shown to her chamber, where she found her lying insensible on the bed, with one of the newspapers in her hand, that alluded to herself in disgraceful terms.

Long and patient efforts to restore her, at length produced the desired result.  But it was many days before she seemed distinctly conscious of what was passing or would converse with any degree of coherency.

“Come and spend a few weeks with me, Cara.”

Mrs. Gray said to her, one day, on calling in to see her; “I am sure it will do you good.”

There was a sad, but grateful expression in the pale face of Mrs. Wilton, as she looked into the eye of her old friend, but ventured no reply.

“You will come, will you not, Cara?” urged Mrs. Gray.

“My presence in your happy family would be like the shadow of an evil wing,” said she bitterly.

“Our happy family, say-rather, would chase away the gloomy shadows that darken your heart.  Come then, and we will give you a cheerful welcome.”

“I feel much inclined, and yet I hesitate, for I ought not to throw a gloom over your household,” and the tears filled her eyes, and glistened through the lids which were closed suddenly over them.

“Come, and welcome!” Mrs. Gray urged, taking her hand and gently pressing it.

That evening Mrs. Wilton spent in the pleasant family of her old friend.

Three weeks afterwards, Mrs. Gray asked of her husband, if anything had been heard of Mr. Wilton.

“Nothing,” he replied.  “He has escaped all pursuit thus far, and the officers, completely at fault, have returned.”

“I cannot say that I am sorry, at least for the sake of his wife.  She seems more cheerful since she came here.  I feel sometimes as if I should like to offer her a home, for she has none, that might truly be so called.”

“Act up to your kind desire, Jane, if you think it right to do so,” said her husband.  “Perhaps in no other home open to her could so much be done for her comfort.”