It was from her husband, and I was not prepared for the cry of dismay which left her lips as she read it, nor for the increased excitement into which she was thrown by its few and seemingly simple words.
With apparent forgetfulness of what had just occurred--a forgetfulness which insensibly carried her back to the moment when she had given me some order which involved my departure from the room--she impetuously called out over her shoulder which she had turned on opening her telegram: "Miss Saunders! Miss Saunders! are you there?
Bring me the morning papers; bring me the morning papers!" Instantly I remembered that we had not read the papers.

Contrary to our usual habit we had gone about a pressing piece of work without a glance at any of the three dailies laid to hand in their usual place on the library table.

"They are here on the table," I replied, wondering as much at the hectic flush which now enlivened her features as at the extreme paleness that had marked them the moment before.
"Search them! There is something new in them about me.

There must be.
Read Mr.Packard's message." I took it from her hand; only eight words in all.
Here they are--the marks of separation being mine: I am coming--libel I know--where is S.
Henry.
"Search the columns," she repeated, as I laid the telegram down.
"Search! Search!" I hastily obeyed.

But it took me some time to find the paragraph I sought.