OLONEL RICHARD IVEY came back to his elegant home, from his trip to the West.

He had telegraphed to have the carriage meet him at the railway station, but to his surprise it was not there, and so he sprang into a village hack and drove homeward.

It was dark ere he reached the mansion and his surprise was greater when he saw no lights to greet him.

"Why Ruby must have gone up to the city; but she wrote nothing of intending to do so, in her last letter," he said, as he sprang out of the vehicle and paid the driver.

Ascending to the piazza he rang the bell, and soon a light flashed within the hallway, and the butler opened the door.

"Well, Richard, what is the matter, that I receive such a bleak welcome?" he said.

"The madam is away, sir, and has been for some days; but she left a letter for you, sir, and it's on your table with the mail.

"I'll have lights, sir, at once."

The mansion was soon lighted up, and supper ordered for the master, who went into his library and took up the numerous letters that had arrived for him during his absence of several weeks.

All were thrown aside excepting one.

That one bore no stamp or post-mark, and was from his wife.

Hastily he broke the seal, and seeing that it was several pages in length, he threw himself into his easy-chair beneath the lamp.

As he read, he uttered a sound very like a moan, and, strong man though he was, his hands trembled as he held the letter.

When he had finished he slowly re-read it, and then bending his head upon his hands he sat thus, the picture of silent, manly grief.

What he read was as follows:

"Dare I, in this letter that I now write you, address you as my heart would dictate and call you my own dear Richard?—for such you are to me and ever will be, though a cruel blow causes me to fly from you.

"The other night I sat alone in your library in your pet chair.

"Will was away in his yacht, on a cruise for a few days, and Pearl was spending the night with a little girl friend.

"Suddenly a visitor entered the library.

"To my horror, it was one I deemed dead, years ago!

"But no not dead, alas! but alive, cynical, sneering, cold-hearted, cruel he stood before me.

"Dressed well, wearing diamonds, yet a begger for gold.

"Need I tell you that it was my husband?

"Need I tell you that he had deceived me in his death, and told me that he had purposely done so, that I might, by my beauty—such were his words—win a rich husband and then he could force from me gold to keep my secret?

"Such was his mission to me, and he demanded a large sum that he might dissipate it in his luxurious life.

"He promised to go from me, and never return if I gave him the sum he demanded.

"If I refused, he said that he would go to you, and you, for honour's sake, to save scandal, would buy him off.

"Again, he said he would tell you that I knew he was alive and yet married you.

"So, in my grief, I begged him to give me time for thought, though I then knew what my course would be.

"He gave me a week to consider, and, confident that I would yield, he left.

"He judged me by his own guilty heart and felt safe in his threats to divulge the secret of his being still alive.

"When he was gone I fell into a swoon upon the floor, and there Richards found me when he came to put out the lights.

"The maid revived me, and I passed a night of bitter agony; but I was decided as to what I should do, and I told the servants that I had heard bad news, and must go away, perhaps to be gone a long time.

"I did not care to say more, that I would never return, for your sake.

"Then I began to get ready, and that day Pearl returned home.

"The next day Will came back from his cruise and I told my children that we must go.

"I told them that it was no quarrel, no wrong of one of us against the other, only duty forced me away.

"I had in my purse something over a hundred dollars, which you had given me for charity, you remember, and I devoted it to charity to myself, for we go as poor as we came to you otherwise, and it is because I would not feel right in taking from you one dollar when I know that man lives.

"To-morrow we leave for New York in the early train, and I shall go to your city mansion and get our old traps there, and place in the Safe Deposit the jewellery and other valuables you have given to us.

"There is one souvenir I keep, the ring you and I supposed to be our wedding ring.

"That I shall wear, though the lie stares me in the face; but it was placed there in honour in so doing.

"Where I go you will not know, for I shall not wish you to find me, which your heart, I feel, will tempt you to do.

"I go my way as before, to earn our bread by my handiwork, and I am strong now and in good health, after the happiness that has come into my life, and I can bear much.

"Heaven bless you, will be my prayer and the prayer of my children, Richard, for you have been to us all in all, and to give you up is a pang that cuts deep into the hearts of us all.

"Farewell, Richard, and ever believe in the love, though it be in shackles, of

"Yours unhappily,

"Ruby Cluett."

Such was the letter that Colonel Dick Ivey read, and it was no wonder that he felt deeply the blow that had fallen upon him.

For a long time he remained in silent grief; and then he raised his bowed head, and already suffering had made his stern, handsome face haggard.

"She is as pure as an angel, and she shall not leave me.

"I will find her, cost what it may, and to-morrow I will go to the city, and set the wheels of the Secret Service in motion to find her and her children.

"Then she shall get a divorce from this wretch, for, innocent thing that she is, she does not know that she can readily do so, under the plea of desertion.

"If not, why, I'll have to make a widow of her and then marry her;" and the face of the colonel proved that he meant what he said, while, after a moment, he added:

"It strikes me that a man who has been such a wretch as this fellow is, has done that which would place him behind prison bars, and perhaps stretch his neck, so I'll put the detectives upon his track, and see what they can discover of his past career;" and with this determination Colonel Ivey sought the supper room, now cheered with the thought that his separation from those he loved was but temporary.