to every appeal. In fact, she despised these
heavy, matter-of-fact Dutch ladies, and rather gloried to think that she
would soon be the female head of the Van Tromp house and stepmother to
these two highly respectable dames, who would perforce have to live in
her shadow. But then, of course, the Countess was a woman, and it is to
be feared that even good women love to triumph over others. She, of
course, could have no love for this portly old gentleman of seventy.
But it is pitiful to think he was madly infatuated. The poor old man, in
spite of his unromantic appearance, had warm blood in his veins and
plenty of romance in his heart. At last, in spite of gossip and
opposition, they were married, and then, instead of settling down, as
the happy groom had hoped, to a life of wedded bliss in one of his
country houses at Dordrecht, Lady Van Tromp insisted on spending her
honeymoon in Paris. There they went, and the very day of their arrival
the bride resumed a liaison with a beggarly count, who, not being an
actual criminal, yet was written black enough in the books of the Paris
police, and for whom the Countess had as warm an admiration as one of
her cold, calculating nature was capable of feeling.

Van Tromp speedily found his dream of bliss blown to the winds, but he
was not so blind as not to see that his wife not only did not love him,
but was false to him as well. Poor old Van Tromp felt he had made his
last throw for happiness, and hoping against hope, dreamed she in time
would learn to appreciate his devotion and would love him, and so tried
to persuade himself of her truth. The first anniversary of the marriage
found them at Baden-Baden, and there the unhappy husband, thinking to
give his wife a pleasant surprise, entered her chamber at an unusual
hour bearing a diamond necklace for a present, and found her in a
position which could no longer leave any doubt as to her faithlessness.
Seizing a chair he felled her companion, who never stirred again; but
the shock was too great for the husband, who himself fell to the floor
and instantly expired--the doctors said of heart disease, and I think
they were right. This event was only a few weeks old. The will had been
read, and it was found that he had literally left everything "to my
wife, Elizabeth."

Here my friend, the chief of police and a distant relative of Van Tromp,
came to the front, determined quietly on his own account to investigate
Lady Van Tromp. He found