“I do not wish for any scene, or talk, or excitement. I _am_ Everard Forrest’s wife, and I wish only to be known as such. I hoped to find him here, for then it would be _his_ duty to explain, not mine. Do I understand he is not in town, or not at home? Possibly he is in his office, in which case I will seek him there.” “He is not in town,” Mrs. Markham said; “he went to Indiana on business more than a week ago, and has not yet returned. He does not live here when he is at home; he boards in the village. Miss Hastings lives here; this is her house; perhaps you do not know that Judge Forrest died, and——” “Yes, I do,” Josephine interrupted her, beginning to get irritated and lose her self-command as she saw that she was not believed, “I do know Judge Forrest is dead, and has been for two years or more; but I learned it accidentally, and as _he_ was the only obstacle in the way of my recognition as Everard’s wife, I came at once, as I had a right, to my husband’s house.” “But this is _not_ his house,” Mrs. Markham replied. “It belongs to Miss Hastings. Everything belongs to her. Judge Forrest left it to her by will. Didn’t you know that?” “No, I did not,” Josephine answered, and for a moment she turned deathly white as she saw the ground slipping from under her feet. “Left everything to Miss Hastings and disinherited his son! Why was that?” she asked. “I don’t know why he did it,” Mrs. Markham replied, “I know only that he did, and it is strange Mr. Forrest did not write that to you, as you must, of course, have been in correspondence with him.” She spoke sarcastically, and Josephine knew she was looked upon with distrust, notwithstanding the certificate, which she had thought would silence all doubt; and that, added to what she had heard of the disposition of the Forrest property, provoked her to wrath, and her eyes, usually so dreamy and blue, emitted sparks of anger, and seemed to turn a kind of whitish gray as she burst out: “My correspondence with my husband has not been very frequent or full. I told you I did not hear from him of his father’s death; he never hinted at such a thing, and how was I to know that he was disinherited? If I had it might have made a difference, and I should have thought twice before crossing the sea and giving up a life I enjoyed, for the sake of coming here to find myself suspected as an impostor, which, under the circumstances, is natural perhaps, and to find also that my husband is a pauper, and the home I had confidently expected would one day be mine given to a stranger.”