s opened I saw a magnificent room--long,
lofty and bright, so cheerful and light--with such beautiful furniture,
and such superb hangings of white and gold. I was struck as I had never
been by any room before. The long French windows, opening like glass
doors, looked over a superb flower-garden, where flowers of every hue
were now in blossom.

The room was full of sunlight; it faced the west, and the sun was
setting. For a few moments my eyes were dazzled; then as the golden haze
cleared, I saw a tall figure at the other end of the room, a beautiful
figure, dressed in a long robe of blue, with a crown of golden brown
hair; when she turned suddenly to us, I saw that she carried some sprays
of white hawthorn in her hand. At first my attention was concentrated on
the golden hair, the blue dress, the white flowers; then slowly, as
though following some irresistible magnetic attraction, my eyes were
raised to her face, and remained fixed there. I have wondered a thousand
times since how it was that no cry escaped my lips--how it was that none
of the cold, sick horror that filled my whole heart and soul did not
find vent in words. How was it? To this moment I cannot tell. Great
Heaven! what did I see? In this beloved and worshiped wife--in this fair
and queenly woman--in this tender and charitable lady, who was so good
to the fallen and miserable--in this woman, idolized by the man I loved
best upon earth, I saw the murderess--the woman who had dropped the
little bundle over the railing into the sea.

It was she as surely as heaven shone above us. I recognized the
beautiful face, the light golden hair, the tall, graceful figure. The
face was not white, set desperate now, but bright, with a soft, sweet
radiance I have seen on the face of no other woman living. For an
instant my whole heart was paralyzed with horror. I felt my blood grow
cold and gather round my heart, leaving my face and hands cold. She came
forward to greet me with the same graceful, undulating grace which had
struck me before. For a moment I was back on the Chain Pier, with the
wild waste of waters around me, and the rapid rush of the waves in my
ear. Then a beautiful face was smiling into mine--a white hand, on which
rich jewels shone, was held out to me, a voice sweeter than any music I
had ever heard, said:

"You are welcome to Dutton, Mr. Ford. My husband will be completely
happy now."

Great Heaven! how could this woman be a murderess--the beautiful