he steady
reply. "He was calling at a friend's house where I was staying."

"Did you at that time know of his relation to your townswoman, Mrs.
Clemmens?"

"No, sir. It was not till I had seen him several times that I learned he
had any connections in Sibley."

"Miss Dare, you will excuse me, but it is highly desirable for the court
to know if the prisoner ever paid his addresses to you?"

The deep, almost agonizing blush that colored her white cheek answered
as truly as the slow "Yes," that struggled painfully to her lips.

"And--excuse me again, Miss Dare--did he propose marriage to you?"

"He did."

"Did you accept him?"

"I did not."

"Did you refuse him?"

"I refused to engage myself to him."

"Miss Dare, will you tell us when you left Buffalo?"

"On the nineteenth day of August last."

"Did the prisoner accompany you?"

"He did not."

"Upon what sort of terms did you part?"

"Good terms, sir."

"Do you mean friendly terms, or such as are held by a man and a woman
between whom an attachment exists which, under favorable circumstances,
may culminate in marriage?"

"The latter, sir, I think."

"Did you receive any letters from the prisoner after your return to
Sibley?"

"Yes, sir."

"And did you answer them?"

"I did."

"Miss Dare, may I now ask what reasons you gave the prisoner for
declining his offer--that is, if my friend does not object to the
question?" added the District Attorney, turning with courtesy toward Mr.
Orcutt.

The latter, who had started to his feet, bowed composedly and prepared
to resume his seat.

"I desire to put nothing in the way of your eliciting the whole truth
concerning this matter," was his quiet, if somewhat constrained,
response.

Mr. Ferris at once turned back to Miss Dare.

"You will, then, answer," he said.

Imogene lifted her head and complied.

"I told him," she declared, with thrilling distinctness, "that he was in
no condition to marry. I am by nature an ambitious woman, and, not
having suffered at that time, thought more of my position before the
world than of what constitutes the worth and dignity of a man."

No one who heard these words could doubt they were addressed to the
prisoner. Haughtily as she held herself, there was a deprecatory
humility in her tone that neither judge nor jury could have elicited
from her. Naturally many eyes turned in the direction of the prisoner.
They saw two white faces before them, that of the accused