“He is a Winthrop, and as a race they have been noted for their strong characters; though I must say I have always been proud of the way that Truman has controlled himself. I never knew him to give way like this before,” said madam, as she wiped the perspiration from her forehead. During all her life she never remembered having been so completely cowed by any human being. Yet she did not feel the least regret for what she had done—she was only annoyed and angered because she had been found out. Dr. Winthrop, after leaving his mother and sister, went to his own house on Madison Avenue. He found the ever-faithful Dick in the stable, and at once dispatched him for the key. Upon his return, before going into the house, he questioned the man regarding his wife’s appearance and state of health before she went away. “She wur the swatest little woman, sir, that ever breathed,” Dick replied, with a glowing face; “she always had a kind word for everybody, and, sir, she were all right for a week or so after yer honor went away, then she began to droop like.” “But was she really ill, Dick?” “Begorra, sir, ye have me there! I bethink she wouldn’t have been so down at the mouth if ye had been here. I belave, upon me word, that it wasn’t her body that was ailin’ at all—but sure, she wasn’t happy, like she was before, sir, and it’s yerself that needn’t be told that the mind has a great influence over the body.” The man was very cautious in what he said; he did not wish to throw suspicion upon his master’s mother or sister, although he, as well as most of the servants, knew that they had made life wretched for her. Dr. Winthrop understood it also; what Dick had told him was sufficient to confirm his suspicions; they had crushed her with their coldness and arrogance, and they had plotted to drive her from her home and husband. He was filled with remorse for having allowed them to remain in his house to torment her with their overbearing insolence; but he had hoped that her sweetness and beauty would win their hearts. With his own heart nearly bursting he went into the house, and his first act was to make a thorough examination of the plumbing. It was in perfect condition—there was no sewer-gas, no disagreeable odor in the house. Then with reverent steps he went up to her rooms. A groan of anguish burst from him as he opened the door of her pretty boudoir. Everything was in the nicest order, but the silence and beauty that had reigned there seemed to mock his grief. How exquisitely beautiful everything was! But the charm and spirit of the place had vanished. He went into her chamber, but only to have his sense of desolation intensified. All the dainty toilet articles, which he had taken such pleasure in selecting for her, lay in their places upon her dressing-case; she had not taken a single thing with her.