desperate need of a companion, Dorothy would not out of my mind and my
heart. My indomitable will had asserted itself in the pursuit of
Dorothy. Even if my judgment had favored Abigail I could not have given
up Dorothy. To surrender the hope of Dorothy was to leave something in
my life unfinished; and that was contrary to my tenacious purpose. I
could not hear Abigail's voice without comparing it to the softer
modulations of Dorothy's. I could not be in the presence of Abigail
without feeling that there was something more kindred to me in the
personality of Dorothy. And yet I had to confess on reflection that I
was not sure of this. Dorothy wrote to me on occasion, but there was
really nothing in her letters to keep hope alive. All the while my life
was going on in labor, in planning, in building, with Mrs. Brown to keep
my house. Even Zoe did not write to me. I knew that she was receiving
the monthly allowance from the fact that my letters were not returned.
However, at last one was sent back to me.

Then in the late winter I was surprised one day by the visit of a
stranger--and a strange character he was too. He introduced himself to
me as Henry Fortescue of Chicago--and as Zoe's husband! I remembered; he
was the voice teacher with whom Zoe was sitting on the lake front. He
began by saying that he had come with very unwelcome news and upon a
sorrowful mission. Zoe was dead! Zoe had met her death by foul play. She
had been found strangled to death in her bed.

I glanced in horror at this unknown character. He went on to tell me
that suspicion had fastened itself upon a half-breed who came to the
house where Zoe lived. He had been arrested, was soon to be tried. As to
Fortescue's visit here, he had come to see about Zoe's land and
interests. He had married Zoe some weeks before her death. Without
knowing much about such matters I went at once to the point.

I asked Fortescue what proof he had of the marriage. I began to suspect
Fortescue of being the murderer himself. So many desperate deeds were
done in this country; so many dishonest expedients resorted to for
money, for land. My question gave Fortescue embarrassment. He stammered,
colored a little, then went on to say that he had witnesses to the
marriage; that the ceremony was not performed by a minister, but that he
and Zoe had entered into a common-law marriage. I did not know exactly
what this was and at once determined to see Douglas about it.

Meanwhile I wa