Not long after she had left the house for the office, Mrs.Hamilton had been taken worse, and the physician, who chanced to be present, pronounced her dying.

Instantly the alarmed husband summoned together his household, but Mag was missing.

No one had seen her; no one knew where she was, until Mrs.Carter, who had been some little time absent from the room reentered it, saying "Margaret had started for the post-office with a letter when I sent a servant to tell her of her mother's danger, but for some reason she kept on, though I dare say she will soon be back." As we well know, the substance of this speech was true, though the impression which Mrs.Carter's words conveyed was entirely false.

For the advancement of her own cause she felt that it was necessary to weaken the high estimation in which Mr.Hamilton held his daughter, and she fancied that the mother's death-bed was as fitting a place where to commence operations as she could select.
As Margaret hung over her mother's pillow, the false woman, as if to confirm the assertion she had made, leaned forward and said, "Robin told you, I suppose?
I sent him to do so." Margaret nodded assent, while a deeper gloom fell upon the brow of Mr.
Hamilton, who stood with folded arms watching the advance of the great destroyer.

It came at last, and though no perceptible change heralded its approach, there was one fearful spasm, one long-drawn sigh, a striving of the eye for one more glimpse of the loved ones gathered near, and then Mrs.Hamilton was dead.