It can easily be imagined that she was in a wretched state mentally, while the terrible excitement to which she had been subjected made her really ill for the time. She saw nothing more of her husband’s mother and sister that day, for she shut herself in her chamber and charged Nellie not to admit any one. She tried to calm herself sufficiently to think over what she had heard and to reason out her position. She wondered how madam could have learned all that she appeared to know about her. Could it be possible that that man had followed her home and revealed to her what he knew of her history? The thought for a moment appalled her, then she discarded it, for if such had been the case they must have learned her name and some other things which madam had seemed so anxious to extort from her. Then her thoughts reverted to what had been told her about her marriage. Could it be possible that there had really been any flaw in it? that the simple fact of her withholding her surname would invalidate it? It did not seem at all reasonable; but she knew that the law was very often peculiar and arbitrary, and it might be as Mrs. Winthrop had said. If she was no wife—horrible thought—then she had no right to be in the home of Dr. Winthrop, acting as mistress at his table, driving his horses, spending his money. “Oh, it cannot—it cannot be true!” she moaned, as she hid her burning face in her hands. “What shall I do? what is right—what is my duty? True, True, have you ruined your life—have you ruined three lives from a mistaken sense of obligation—of gratitude to me? I would rather have died than that it should be so.” She was very wretched, both mentally and physically, and Nellie grew alarmed at her condition and begged her to send for some physician. But she refused to see any one—she knew that no advice, no medicine, would do any good until she could fight out her battle and determine upon some course to pursue. All night long she lay awake, trying to decide the important question; and at last in the small hours of the morning she resolved that she would write everything to her husband, for such he still seemed to her, in spite of the doubt that had been cast upon their relations. She would begin at the very beginning, and tell him all the sad story of her life up to her meeting with him. She would also tell him of her encounter with that bad man yesterday, of her subsequent interview with his mother and sister, and their judgment of her. She would tell him that if she was no wife—if he had been pledged to some one else whom he loved and wished to marry, before meeting her, and feeling that he owed her such a return for the service which she had rendered him—if he wished to be free and to take advantage of the flaw in their marriage, she would willingly submit—she would go away and never see or trouble him again.