"I see quite clearly," rejoined Durgan, "that we are, as you say, far from any explanation of the mystery; but as far as my wife is concerned, these letters appear to me to show that she knew that she was protecting this man at the risk of danger to herself. She has prepared this series to save herself if he is found out. The one letter which you suppose to be his is evidence that he had the intention of visiting the Claxtons that morning; the rest of the letters only imply that she believed he had never gone. If, as we now suppose, the cause of quarrel between Beardsley and poor Claxton was this misapprehension of his regarding my wife's feeling for Claxton, she may have sheltered him at first to save scandal involving herself." "Yet," said Alden, "we must admit that this does not appear to be any sufficient motive for Mrs. Durgan's conduct. We agree that only some important fact, as yet unknown to us, can explain the action of these two women." Alden put down his notes on the small table. They sat in silence. The smouldering birch log in the stove chimney emitted only an occasional spit of flame. The dogs slumbered in front of it. The shaded lamp, which Durgan had often regarded as the symbol of domestic felicity, threw the same soft light around the graceful room as on the first evening of his introduction to it. Upstairs there was an occasional sound made by the movements of the sisters, which gave a soft reminder of their presence in the house, and no more. Through the low, uncurtained windows the mountain trees and the meadows were seen outlined in the starlight, as on the night of his arrival. "What of these other letters you still have in your hand?" said Durgan at last. "There are three that were tied up and hidden, evidently before the stolen packet came into her possession; and three that were with the rest that you have seen. These last three I cannot let you see. They are the saddest letters I have ever read. They are written to Beardsley, and altho without date or signature, undoubtedly in Miss Claxton's writing. They implore him by every sacred feeling of love and duty to turn to God in repentance and accept the Christian salvation. Mr. Durgan, nothing but love and the most earnest sense of duty could have prompted these letters, and I wish, in your presence, to put them in the fire. They have been rejected and spurned by the cur to whom they were sent, and altho they are undoubted proofs that for him she has felt the madness--I can call it by no other word--the madness of love, they shall never be used as evidence against her." The little man stepped forward and laid them on the fire. The tears, unfelt, fell from his eyes as he did so. The flame shot up from the glowing log, and the dark, uncurtained windows of the room repeated the quivering light. The sorrow of it drowned Durgan's curiosity. He forgot to wonder what letters Miss Claxton had previously hidden in the tree till Alden roused himself to speak again.