I stood outside and listened. The silvery, sweet tones of the singer rose clear above the soft guitar accompaniment. As the last words died away on the stillness of the evening air, I rang the bell. It seemed almost sacrilege to break in on her quiet enjoyment, although I knew she must soon be expecting me. She responded to the summons at the door herself. Of medium height, with beautiful, sloping shoulders, a tiny waist and perfectly moulded hips, she would have inspired an artist. Her hair was prematurely gray, and dressed low on her neck. Her face was almost perfect in feature and the only traces of sorrow time had left visible were the gray hairs and lines about the slightly drooping mouth. It was the heart which bore the scars of agony, invisible to all but her and her God. She had passed through the fire and had come forth purer, fairer, sweeter, more charitable, more forgiving, better fitted to cope with the world. This was the woman as I knew her now, and had known her for the past year. She was to be married on the morrow (lucky man), and had promised to tell me her life’s story before she married. “For I shall want to forget all that sad past after the last day of this life, for tomorrow, I trust, a new era shall have dawned for me,” she said, when she gave me her promise. When I heard her singing I wondered if she longed, yet feared, the new life, and if she wished to hold the day yet a little longer, which she had evidently given over to reminiscences, for I knew the past held some sweet memories, for every past has them, no matter how bitter it has been. And those sweet memories seem the brighter for their setting of darkness. “I have been thinking of my past life all day,” she said, after we were seated, “and you know when one indulges in such a review a thousand things recur to one’s mind which are really irrelevant to the real story, yet they all combine to make up one’s life, and may have some bearing on the case after all.” She was silent a long time, looking out into the twilight with unseeing eyes. “You know I was accused of murder,” she said, abruptly. “I was tried and acquitted owing to insufficient evidence.” “Yes, I remember something about it.”