“I know her precisely as she is known to your niece and Miss Updyke—in other words, as a maid who is much esteemed by those she serves—but,” apparently wishing to change the discourse—“we are forgetting the purpose of your visit, all this time, Mr. Dunscomb. Do me the favour to write your address in town, and that of Dr. McBrain on this card, and we will proceed to business.” Dunscomb did as desired, when he opened on the details that were the object of his little journey. As had been the case in all his previous interviews with her, Mary Monson surprised him with the coolness with which she spoke of an issue that involved her own fate, for life or for death. While she carefully abstained from making any allusion to circumstances that might betray her previous history, she shrunk from no inquiry that bore on the acts of which she had been accused. Every question put by Dunscomb that related to the murders and the arson, was answered frankly and freely, there being no wish apparent to conceal the minutest circumstance. She made several exceedingly shrewd and useful suggestions on the subject of the approaching trial, pointing out defects in the testimony against her, and reasoning with singular acuteness on particular facts that were known to be much relied on by the prosecution. We shall not reveal these details any further in this stage of our narrative, for they will necessarily appear at length in our subsequent pages; but shall confine ourselves to a few of those remarks that may be better given at present. “I do not know, Mr. Dunscomb,” Mary Monson suddenly said, while the subject of her trial was yet under discussion, “that I have ever mentioned to you the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin were not happy together. One would think, from what was said at the time of the inquest, that they were a very affectionate and contented couple; but my own observation, during the short time I was under their roof, taught me better. The husband drank, and the wife was avaricious and very quarrelsome. I am afraid, sir, there are few really happy couples to be found on earth!” “If you knew McBrain better, you would not say that, my dear Miss Monson,” answered the counsellor with a sort of glee—“there’s a husband for you!—a fellow who is not only happy with _one_ wife, but who is happy with _three_, as he will tell you himself.” “Not all at the same time, I hope, sir?”