y:

"We were married the middle of July at that little church in the woods
where we attended a festival one night. It was in the twilight when we
were returning from a long drive into the country."

"Ah! there were witnesses, of course?" anxiously.

"No one was present but the minister who united us," Dainty answered.

"His name?"

"I do not remember it."

"Indeed! that is strange. But perhaps you can remember whether there was
a license, without which such a marriage would not be legal?" continued
Mrs. Ellsworth, still scornfully incredulous.

Dainty answered, dauntlessly:

"Yes, there was a license. Love went to the county seat to procure it
just previous to the marriage."

They gazed into each other's eyes, and Mrs. Ellsworth drew a long,
shivering breath as she exclaimed, menacingly:

"This sounds very fine, but you can not prove one word of it--not one!
It is a plot to wrest a fortune from me, but it will not succeed. It was
your falsity in forsaking Love at his wedding-hour that caused all his
trouble, and the sight of you is hateful to me. You must leave here at
once, and return to your mother at your old home in Richmond, for the
roof of Ellsworth shall not shelter you an hour!"

"Madame, after all my wrongs at your hands--" began Dainty,
reproachfully; but she was cruelly interrupted:

"Assertion is not proof! Until you can bring proof of all your charges,
I decline to admit them. Again, Lovelace Ellsworth is now a pauper
dependent on my bounty. Raise but your voice to assert a wife's claim on
him, and out he goes to become the wretched inmate of an idiot asylum.
On your silence as to this trumped-up charge of a secret marriage, and
also of wrongs pretended to be done by my hands, depends the comfort of
Lovelace Ellsworth. Now say whether you love yourself better than you do
him!"

It was a crucial test; but the girl did not hesitate.

She pressed her lips to Love's pale brow solemnly, as we kiss the dead,
murmuring:

"I would sacrifice my very life to purchase any good for him!"

The man Franklin gazed on in keen sympathy for the girl and bitter
disdain of the cruel woman, but he did not dare to utter a word lest he
should make matters worse.

Mrs. Ellsworth's eyes flashed triumphantly at her easy victory over the
broken-hearted girl.

"Very well. You have made a wise decision. You would only come to bitter
grief by opposing me," she asserted, loftily; and added: "Now you must
go. Here