"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 and that of his counsel, who sat near him. But the pallor of the one was of scorn, and that of the other---- Well, no one who knew the relations of Mr. Orcutt to the witness could wonder that the renowned lawyer shrank from hearing the woman he loved confess her partiality for another man. Mr. Ferris, who understood the situation as well as any one, but who had passed the point where sympathy could interfere with his action, showed a disposition to press his advantage. "Miss Dare," he inquired, "in declining the proposals of the prisoner, did you state to him in so many words these objections you have here mentioned?" "I did." "And what answer did he give you?" "He replied that he was also ambitious, and hoped and intended to make a success in life." "And did he tell you how he hoped and intended to make a success?" "He did." "Miss Dare, were these letters written by you?" She looked at the packet he held toward her, started as she saw the broad black ribbon that encircled it, and bowed her head. "I have no doubt these are my letters," she rejoined, a little tremulously for her. And unbinding the packet, she examined its contents. "Yes," she answered, "they are. These letters were all written by me." And she handed them back with such haste that the ribbon which bound them remained in her fingers, where consciously or unconsciously she held it clutched all through the remaining time of her examination. "Now," said the District Attorney, "I propose to read two of these letters. Does my friend wish to look at them before I offer them in evidence?" holding them out to Mr. Orcutt.