went back to Swanson. She did not stay there long, however; for the
next we know she was in Sibley, where she set up her own little
house-keeping arrangements under his very eye. More than that, she
prevailed upon him to visit her daily, and even to take a meal at her
house, her sense of justice seeming to be satisfied if he showed her
this little attention and gave to no other woman the place he denied
her. It was the weakness shown in this last requirement that doubtless
led to her death. She would stand any thing but a rival. He knew this,
and preferred crime to the loss of the woman he loved."

"You speak very knowingly," said Mr. Ferris. "May I ask where you
received your information?"

It was Mr. Gryce who answered.

"From letters. Mrs. Clemmens was one of those women who delight in
putting their feelings on paper. Fortunately for us, such women are not
rare. See here!" And he pulled out before the District Attorney a pile
of old letters in the widow's well-known handwriting.

"Where did you find these?" asked Mr. Ferris.

"Well," said Mr. Gryce, "I found them in rather a curious place. They
were in the keeping of old Mrs. Firman, Miss Firman's mother. Mrs.
Clemmens, or, rather, Mrs. Orcutt, got frightened some two years ago at
the disappearance of her marriage certificate from the place where she
had always kept it hidden, and, thinking that Mr. Orcutt was planning to
throw her off, she resolved to provide herself with a confidante capable
of standing by her in case she wished to assert her rights. She chose
old Mrs. Firman. Why, when her daughter would have been so much more
suitable for the purpose, it is hard to tell; possibly the widow's pride
revolted from telling a woman of her own years the indignities she had
suffered. However that may be, it was to the old lady she told her story
and gave these letters--letters which, as you will see, are not written
to any special person, but are rather the separate leaves of a journal
which she kept to show the state of her feelings from time to time."

"And this?" inquired Mr. Ferris, taking up a sheet of paper written in a
different handwriting from the rest.

"This is an attempt on the part of the old lady to put on paper the
story which had been told her. She evidently thought herself too old to
be entrusted with a secret so important, and, fearing loss of memory, or
perhaps sudden death, took this means of explaining how she came into
possession of her cous