back some revelation that would satisfy, in a measure, the
excitement of mind produced by so singular an intrusion of strangers
upon our quiet town. I answered her first look of inquiry by the
words:--

"It is over. Another book of life is sealed up here to be opened in
eternity."

"Dead! Not dead?"

"Yes, Constance, Mrs. Allen is dead. Her spirit had passed away before
my arrival."

"How did she die?--from what cause?"

"From what I can learn she died in a fit of passion." I then related all
that I had seen and heard.

"But who can they be?" This query came as a natural sequence. "What
right have they in the Allen House?"

"Whoever they may be," I replied, "they act, or, at least, the elder
of the two ladies acts as if her right there was not even open to a
question. And, perhaps, it is not."

"But what can they be to the Allens?"

"I will give you," said I, "the benefit of my guessing on the subject.
You recollect the story told about Captain Allen's mother; how she went
off a great many years ago with a stranger--an Englishman."

Constance remembered all about this family history, for it was the
romance of our town.

"My conclusion is that this lady is the sister of Captain Allen--the
child that his mother took with her when she fled from her husband's
house. I am strengthened in this belief from the first impression of her
voice, as if the tones had in them something familiar."

We talked this matter over, looking at it in every way, until we
satisfied ourselves that my conjectures must be true. The quiet manner
in which they had intruded themselves, and taken possession of the
house--unheralded as far as we knew--could not but present itself to our
minds as a matter of special wonder. The more we conned it over the more
we were puzzled. Before coming home I had called at an undertaker's, and
notified him that his services were wanted at the Allen House. Early on
the next day I took the liberty of calling there myself. I sent up my
name, and awaited, with some interest, my reception. The visit might be
regarded as an intrusion, and I was prepared to receive a message from
the lady asking to be excused. Not so, however. I had been seated only
a few moments, when I heard the rustle of her garments on the stairs. My
first glance at her face assured me that I was no unwelcome visitor.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said, as she extended her hand, "for this early
call. Our meeting last night for the first ti