"What is that, husband?" asked Mrs. Gray, looking up with a
concerned countenance.

"Why, our old friend Charles Wilton has committed a forgery!"

"Poor Cara! It will break her heart," Mrs. Gray said in a sad tone.

"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.