He remained there three days, and then went abroad.

Where he was now she did not know; doubtless he was traveling from one place to another, wretched, unhappy as she was herself.
The desolate, dreary life had begun to prey upon her at last.

She had fought against it bravely for some time--she had tried to live down the sorrow; but it was growing too strong for her--the weight of it was wearing her life away.

Slowly but surely she began to fade and droop.

At first it was but a failure in strength--a little walk tired her, the least fatigue or exercise seemed too much for her.