"I do not suppose she has much affection for him, Jane."
"No, but she has a good deal of pride left—all, in fact, that sustains her. This last blow, I fear, will be too much for one who has no true strength of character."
"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."