discovered this legend:

E. U. to H. D. Jan. 27, 1775.

CHAPTER IV.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.

Never have I felt such relief as when, upon my resuscitation, I
remembered that I had put upon paper all the events and all the
suspicions which had troubled me during that fatal night of January the
28th, sixteen years before. With that in my possession, I could confront
any suspicion which might arise, and it was this thought which lent to
my bearing at this unhappy time a dignity and self-possession which
evidently surprised the two gentlemen.

"You seem more shocked than astonished," was Mr. Tamworth's first
remark, as, mistress once more of myself, I led the way out of that
horrible room into one breathing less of death and the charnel house.

"You are right," said I. "Mysteries which have troubled me for years are
now in the way of being explained by this discovery. I knew that
something either fearful or precious had been left in the keeping of
this house or grounds; but I did not know what this something was, and
least of all did I suspect that its hiding place was between walls whose
turns and limitations I thought I knew as well as I do the paths of my
garden."

"You speak riddles," Dr. Kenyon now declared. "You knew that something
fearful or precious had been left in your house--"

"Pardon me," I interrupted; "I said house or grounds. I thought it was
in the grounds, for how could I think that the house could, without my
knowledge, hold anything of the nature I have just suggested?"

"You knew, then, that a person had been murdered?"

"No," I persisted, with a strange calmness, considering how agitated I
was, both by my memories and the fears I could not but entertain for the
future; "I know nothing; nor can I, even with the knowledge of this
discovery, understand or explain what took place in my house sixteen
years ago."

And in a few hurried words I related the story of the mysterious couple
who had occupied that room on the night of January 27, 1775.

They listened to me as if I were repeating a fairy tale, and as I noted
the sympathizing air with which Dr. Kenyon tried to hide his natural
incredulity, I again congratulated myself that I had been a weak enough
woman to keep an account of the events which had so impressed me.

"You think I am drawing upon my imagination," I quietly remarked, as
silence fell upon my narration.

"By no means," the doctor began, hurriedly; "but the deta