The clock struck ten, and the woman started from the table against which she leaned. "I must not miss the train; I promised to return promptly." She put on the grey cloak she had thrown aside, buttoned it about her throat, and tied her bonnet strings. "Before you go, explain one thing. Was not your hair very dark when you were married?" "Yes, a dark chestnut brown, but when my child was born I was ill a long time, and my head was shaved and blistered. When the hair grew out, it was just as you see it now. Ah! if we had only died then, baby and I, we might have had a quiet sleep under the violets and daisies. I see, sir, you doubt whether I am really little Minnie Merle. Do you not recollect that when you asked for the wedding ring none had been provided, and Cuthbert took one from his own hand, which was placed on my finger? Ah! there was a grim fitness in the selection! A death's head peeping out of a cinerary urn. You will readily recognize the dainty bridal token." She drew from her bosom a slender gold chain on which was suspended a quaint antique cameo ring of black agate, with a grinning white skull in the centre, and around the oval border of heavily chased gold glittered a row of large and very brilliant diamonds. "I distinctly remember the circumstance." As the minister restored the ring to its owner, she returned it and the chain to its hiding-place. "I do not wear it, I am biding my time. When General Laurance sent his agent first to attempt to buy me off, and, finding that impossible, to browbeat and terrify me into silence, one of his insolent demands was the restoration of this ring, which he said was an heirloom of untold value in his family, and must belong to none but a Laurance. He offered five hundred dollars for the delivery of it into his possession. I would sooner part with my right arm! Were it iron or lead, its value to me would be the same, for it is the only symbol of my lawful marriage,--is my child's title deed to a legitimate name." She turned toward the door, and Dr. Hargrove asked: "Where is your home?" "I have none. I am a waif drifting from city to city, on the uncertain waves of chance." "Have you no relatives?" "Only an uncle, somewhere in the gold mines of California." "Does General Laurance provide for your maintenance?" "Three years ago his agent offered me a passage to San Francisco, and five thousand dollars, on condition that I withdrew all claim to my husband and to his name, and pledged myself to 'give the Laurances no further trouble.' Had I been a man, I would have strangled him. Since then no communication of any kind has passed between us, except that all my letters to Cuthbert pleading for his child have been returned without comment." "How, then are you and the babe supported?" "That, sir, is my secret." She drew herself haughtily to her full height, and would have passed him, but he placed himself between her and the door.