at she heard them, for she opened the door a very little
way,--such a very little way that the boy had to put his lips to
the crack when he spoke, and then turn and place his ear where his
lips had been in order to catch her reply. This, for some reason,
seemed a long time in coming, and the fellow grew so impatient that
he amused himself by snatching the bouquet from the other boy and
thrusting it in through the crack, to the very great detriment of
its roses and lilies. When she took it he bawled for his answer,
and when he got it, he stared and muttered doubtfully to himself as
he worked his way out again through the crowd, which by this time
was beginning to choke up all the halls and stairways.

"But why have I told you all this nonsense?" she asked quite suddenly.
"It isn't of the least consequence that Veronica Moore kept a boy
waiting at her door while she dressed herself for her wedding; but
it shows that she was queer even then, and I for one believe in the
theory of suicide, and in that alone, and in the excuse she gave for
it, too; for if she had really loved Francis Jeffrey she would not
have been so slow to take in the magnificent bouquet he had provided
for her."

But comment, even from those who had known these people well, was
not what I wanted at this moment, but facts. So, without much
attention to these words, I said:

"You will excuse me if I suggest that you are going on too fast.
The door of the bride's room has just been shut upon the boy who
brought her a message. When was it opened again?"

"Not for a good half-hour; not till every one had grown nervous and
Miss Tuttle and one or two of her most intimate friends had gone
more than once to her door; not, in fact, till the hour for the
ceremony had come and gone and Mr. Jeffrey had crossed the hall
twice under the impression that she was ready for him. Then, when
weariness was general and people were asking what kept the bride
and how much longer they were to be kept waiting, her door suddenly
opened and I caught a glimpse of her face and heard her ask at
last for her maid. O, I repeat that Veronica Moore was not all
right that day, and though I have heard no one comment on the fact,
it has been a mystery to me ever since why she gave that sudden
recoil when Francis Jeffrey took her hand after the benediction.
It was not timidity, nor was it fear, for she did not know till a
minute afterward what had happened in the house. Did some su