the younger brother, that would be nothing to Mr. Peacocke. If it were
the elder, it would be everything. If Ferdinand Lefroy were dead, he
would not scruple at once to ask the woman to be his wife. That which the
man had done, and that which he had not done, had been of such a nature as
to solve all bonds of affection. She had already allowed herself to speak
of the man as one whose life was a blight upon her own; and though there
had been no word of out-spoken love from her lips to his ears, he thought
that he might succeed if it could be made certain that Ferdinand Lefroy
was no longer among the living.

"I shall never know," she said in her misery. "What I do hear I shall
never believe. How can one know anything as to what happens in a country
such as that?"

Then he took up his hat and staff, and, vice-president, professor, and
clergyman as he was, started off for the Mexican border. He did tell her
that he was going, but barely told her. "It's a thing that ought to be
found out," he said, "and I want a turn of travelling. I shall be away
three months." She merely bade God bless him, but said not a word to
hinder or to encourage his going.

He was gone just the three months which he had himself named, and then
returned elate with his news. He had seen the younger brother, Robert
Lefroy, and had learnt from him that the elder Ferdinand had certainly
been killed. Robert had been most ungracious to him, having even on one
occasion threatened his life; but there had been no doubt that he, Robert,
was alive, and that Ferdinand had been killed by a party of United States
soldiers.

Then the clergyman had his reward, and was accepted by the widow with a
full and happy heart. Not only had her release been complete, but so was
her present joy; and nothing seemed wanting to their happiness during the
six first months after their union. Then one day, all of a sudden,
Ferdinand Lefroy was standing within her little drawing-room at the
College of St. Louis.

Dead? Certainly he was not dead! He did not believe that any one had
said that he was dead! She might be lying or not,--he did not care; he,
Peacocke, certainly had lied;--so said the Colonel. He did not believe
that Peacocke had ever seen his brother Robert. Robert was dead,--must
have been dead, indeed, before the date given for that interview. The
woman was a bigamist,--that is, if any second marriage had ever been
perpetrated. Probably both had