“The only way in which the wretch can hurt me is by his false, unscrupulous tongue. He will tell every one who will listen to him that he married me, while I am known to be living here as a single woman. This will cause humiliating gossip. People always get facts distorted in cases like this, out of the routine of life. Questions will be asked and answered recklessly. There will have been something irregular, if not disreputable, in the matter. Was she married, or not married? will be asked. To which was she married? To whom ought she to have been married? Such questions, relative to a woman, right or wrong, just or unjust, reasonable or unreasonable, must always be damaging. Curiosity investigates without justice; thoughtlessness perverts, and malice distorts. I must be prepared to meet all this,” concluded Roma, with a profound sigh. “My dear child,” said Dr. Shaw, “give me your authority to tell your whole story from beginning to end, without any concealments from your friends and neighbors, and believe me, Roma, it will meet with nothing but full confidence, sympathy and admiration. Come; shall I do this?” “Use your own excellent judgment, dear Dr. Shaw, and accept my heartfelt thanks. Already you have inspired me with courage,” said Roma, brightening. Here Lawyer Merritt laughed. “The idea of any one inspiring you with courage, my royal Amazon! You, who have displayed courage and heroism under trials that must have daunted the bravest,” he said. “Ah! but, dear friend, there is one sort of trial that would crush me—to have the good name of my mother’s daughter breathed upon by slander.” “That must never—can never be, Roma!” exclaimed the clergyman and the lawyer, in a breath. At this moment they were interrupted by a strange incident. Ducky Darling rushed into the room and flung herself face downward on the floor, with all her limbs sprawled out, howling: “Oh, Owly! Owly! Owly!” “Why, what is the matter, Dorcas?” inquired Miss Fronde, raising the child to her feet and looking at her. The little black face was all screwed up with anguish and streaming with tears. “What about Owlet? Where is she?” inquired the young lady, drawing the child nearer and gazing in her convulsed face. “Dorn’way! W’ite man!” sobbed the child, wildly weeping. “White man? What white man? Stop crying, dear, and tell me all about it,” said Roma, with increasing anxiety, while the minister and the attorney looked on with silent interest. “Oh! w’ite man! Owly! Owly!” wildly wailed the child. “Where did you leave Owlet? Tell me.” “Yoad!—ta’yidge! w’ite man! Owly! Owly!” heaved and gasped the child. “Come and show me where you left her,” said Miss Fronde, now seriously alarmed, as she took the hand of the child.