uch a cruel and crafty artifice, and
for what purpose?

I had not found any satisfactory answer to these queries before Jack
returned, his face kindled with excitement. He caught my hand, and
grasped it heartily.

"I no more believe she is dead than I am," were his first words. "You
recollect me telling you of a drunken brawl in a street off the Strand,
where a fellow, as drunk as a lord, was for claiming a pretty girl as
his wife; only I had followed her out of Ridley's agency-office, and was
just in time to protect her from him--a girl I could have fallen in love
with myself. You recollect?"

"Yes, yes," I said, almost breathless.

"He was the man, and Olivia was the girl!" exclaimed Jack.

"No!" I cried.

"Yes!" continued Jack, with an affectionate lunge at me; "at any rate I
can swear he is the man; and I would bet a thousand to one that the girl
was Olivia."

"But when was it?" I asked.

"Since he married again," he answered; "they were married on the 2d of
October, and this was early in November. I had gone to Ridley's after a
place for a poor fellow as an assistant to a druggist; and I saw the
girl distinctly. She gave the name of Ellen Martineau. Those letters
about her death are all forgeries."

"Olivia's is not," I said; "I know her handwriting too well."

"Well, then," observed Jack, "there is only one explanation. She has
sent them herself to throw Foster off the scent; she thinks she will be
safe if he believes her dead."

"No," I answered, hotly, "she would never have done such a thing as
that."

"Who else is benefited by it?" he asked, gravely. "It does not put
Foster into possession of any of her property; or that would have been a
motive for him to do it. But he gains nothing by it; and he is so
convinced of her death that he has married a second wife."

It was difficult to hit upon any other explanation; yet I could not
credit this one. I felt firmly convinced that Olivia could not be guilty
of an artifice so cunning. I was deceived in her indeed if she would
descend to any fraud so cruel. But I could not discuss the question even
with Jack Senior. Tardif was the only person who knew Olivia well enough
to make his opinion of any value. Besides, my mind was not as clear as
Jack's that she was the girl he had seen in November. Yet the doubt of
her death was full of hope; it made the earth more habitable, and life
more endurable.

"What can I do now?" I said, speaking aloud, though I wa