“I don’t like to repeat things I hear. But if you say that I must, I can remember once passing Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey in the hall, just as he was saying: ‘You take it too much to heart! I expected a happy honeymoon. Somehow, we have failed—’ That was all I heard, sir. But what made me remember his words was that she was dressed for some afternoon reception and looked so charming and so—and so, as if she ought to be happier.” “Just so. Now, when was this? How long before her death?” “Oh, a week or so. It was very soon after the wedding day.” “And did matters seem to improve after that? Did she appear any better satisfied or more composed?” “I think she endeavored to. But there was something on her mind, something which she tried to laugh off; something that annoyed Mr. Jeffrey and worried Miss Tuttle; something which caused a cloud in the house, for all the dances and dinners and goings and comings. I am sorry to speak of it, but it was so.” “Something that showed an unsettled mind?” “Almost. The glitter in her eye was not natural; neither was the way she looked at her sister and sometimes at her husband.” “Did she talk much about the catastrophe which attended her wedding? Did her mind seem to run on that?” “Incessantly at first; but afterward not so much. I think Mr. Jeffrey frowned on that subject.” “Did he ever frown on her?” “No, sir—not—not when they were alone or with no one by but me. He seemed to love her then very much.” “What do you mean by that, Loretta; that he lost patience with her when other people were present—Miss Tuttle, for instance?” “Yes, sir. He used to change very much when—when—when Miss Tuttle came into the room.” “Change toward his wife?” “Yes, sir.” “How?” “He grew more distant, much more distant; got up quite fretfully from his seat, if he were sitting beside her, and took up some book or paper.” “And Miss Tuttle?” “She never seemed to notice but—” “But—?” “She did not come in very often after this had happened once or twice; I mean into the room upstairs where they used to sit.” “Loretta, I regret to put this question, but after your replies I owe it to the jury, if not to the parties themselves, to make Miss Tuttle’s position in this household thoroughly understood. Do you think she was a welcome visitor in this house?” The girl pursed up her lips, glanced at the lady and gentleman whose feelings she was supposed to pass comment on, and seemed to lose heart. Then, as they failed to respond to her look of appeal, she strove to get the better of her sense of shame and, with a somewhat injured air, replied: