old minister who regarded us suspiciously all the time he was performing the ceremony.  I was sure he thought us a runaway couple, but that did not trouble me so much as that obscure marriage with a heavy-looking pair brought in from a cottage near at hand to witness the ceremony.  I kept contrasting it with the stately ceremony that was to have taken place nearly at the same hour, in old Trinity, with the organ pealing forth the wedding march, the rush of guests and sight-seers, orange blossoms and perfumes, and all the bewildering vanities of a fashionable wedding.  Before I had signed my maiden name for the last time, I began to regret my rash step, and ere the month was ended the thorns of my ill-advised sowing were springing up around me.  We were neither of us so constituted as to make the best of a bad bargain, and our married life had scarce begun when we began magnifying each other’s failings, and soon our brief passion had burnt itself out.  Ah, me! with what regret I used to look back to this quiet town, and the stately calm of Oaklands, after one of our vulgar quarrels.  I learned too soon that my husband was a gambler, and that my fortune had been a more coveted prize than myself; but fortunately, neither of us could touch anything but the interest until my eldest child should come of age.  So often in my free-hearted days we had made merry over my father’s ridiculous will!  Now how I thanked him for his wise forethought while my husband stormed because it was so far beyond his reach!  We might have lived in all my accustomed style on the interest if my husband had been just; but now, instead of sumptuous apparel I had to make the best of garments bought before my marriage, while cheap hotels took the place of my former elegant surroundings.  My one passionate desire was to be free from this hated union and many a time, no doubt, I was a murderess in my heart in my longing to see him dead.  At last my wish was granted.  He was brought home to me one night, a pistol-shot through his heart, received in a low gambling hell.  I did not trouble to inquire the particulars.  He has been dead a year.  I have returned to America—­for, at the time of his death, we were in Europe.  I have waited a decent time; and now, can you guess what has brought me to Cavendish?”

I shrank away from her when she turned towards me, a gracious smile on her face.  “You are silent.  Is it a hopeless errand I have come on, think you?”

“If you have come to seek Mr. Winthrop’s pardon, I think it is——­”

“You do not realize my influence over him.  I could bend him to my will like the merest child.”

I opened the album which still lay on my knee.  “You must not expect to meet the same man you knew here.  He has changed—­matured since then—­if I can judge from his face.”

“His heart, I am convinced, is unchanged.  He is not one to forget the one passion of his life.  You have not gauged the depths of his character.  Ah, me! that I should have flung such a man away!”