She had married; she had not lived happily with her husband, and they had parted.

She had come to Uncle Hugh; she knew he would give his sister's daughter a home.
She told her story with dry eyes and unfaltering voice; but Mr.
Denover, looking in that pale, rigid young face, read more of her despair than she dreamed.
"Her husband has been some English grandee, like Captain Hunsden, I dare say," he thought, "proud as Lucifer, and when he discovered that about her mother, despised and ill-treated her." The penitent wife of Captain Hunsden did not long survive to enjoy her new home.

Two weeks after their arrival she lay upon her death-bed.
Nothing could save her.

She had been doomed for months--life gave way when the excitement that had buoyed her up was gone.
By night and day Harriet watched by her bedside, and the repentant Magdalen's last hours were the most blessed she had ever known.
"I do not deserve to die like this," she said.

"Oh, my darling, your love makes my death-bed very sweet!" They laid her in Greenwood, and once more Harriet's desolation seemed renewed.
"I am doomed to lose all I love," she thought, despairingly--"father, husband, mother--all!" She drooped day by day, despite the tenderest care.