Yet, after the detectives were gone, and he sat down in solitude before these evidences of his friend's perfidy, it was many long and dreary moments before he could summon up courage to peruse them. But when he did, he found in them all that Mr. Gryce had promised. As my readers may feel some interest to know how the seeming widow bore the daily trial of her life, I will give a few extracts from these letters. The first bears date of fourteen years back, and was written after she came to Sibley: "NOVEMBER 8, 1867.--In the same town! Within a stone's throw of the court-house, where, they tell me, his business will soon take him almost every day! Isn't it a triumph? and am I not to be congratulated upon my bravery in coming here? He hasn't seen me yet, but I have seen _him_. I crept out of the house at nightfall on purpose. He was sauntering down the street and he looked--it makes my blood boil to think of it--he looked _happy_." "NOVEMBER 10, 1867.--Clemmens, Clemmens--that is my name, and I have taken the title of widow. What a fate for a woman with a husband in the next street! He saw _me_ to-day. I met him in the open square, and I looked him right in the face. How he did quail! It just does me good to think of it! Perk and haughty as he is, he grew as white as a sheet when he saw me, and though he tried to put on airs and carry it off with a high hand, he failed, just as I knew he would when he came to meet me on even ground. Oh, I'll have my way now, and if I choose to stay in this place where I can keep my eye on him, he won't dare to say No. The only thing I fear is that he will do me a secret mischief some day. His look was just murderous when he left me." "FEBRUARY 24, 1868.--Can I stand it? I ask myself that question every morning when I get up. Can I stand it? To sit all alone in my little narrow room and know that he is going about as gay as you please with people who wouldn't look at me twice. It's awful hard; but it would be worse still to be where I couldn't see what he was up to. Then I should imagine all sorts of things. No, I will just grit my teeth and bear it. I'll get used to it after a while." "OCTOBER 7, 1868.--If he says he never loved me he lies. He did, or why did he marry me? I never asked him to. He teased me into it, saying my saucy ways had bewitched him. A month after, it was common ways, rude ways, such ways as he wouldn't have in a wife. That's the kind of man he is."