“She and I were lovers before she had any expectations of a fortune from her aunt,” he said. “Mrs. Everett objected to me because I was a traveling salesman, and Louise and I were married secretly, taking no one but Molly into our confidence. Very soon afterward I lost my situation, and was away for months seeking work in vain. My wife found herself in a delicate situation, and became enraged because I was not in a position to declare our marriage and support her properly. Then came that fatal letter from Mrs. Barry that ruined all my life.” Sighing heavily, he continued: “That rich, heartless old woman wrote to Louise that she should be her heiress in case she were unmarried and would accept the man she had in view for her; but if she were a married woman, the matter ended there, and she should leave her property to build an orphan asylum.” No one saw the heavy velvet curtains part and an old woman’s face peer cautiously through the aperture. All were too much absorbed in that story of duplicity and deceit on the part of a beautiful, ambitious woman. John Keith went on, bitterly: “That letter transformed Louise into a demon, it seemed. She was determined to secure the fortune she had forfeited by her secret marriage. She took her aunt into her confidence, and they formed a clever, dastardly scheme.” “Ah!” exclaimed Cecil Laurens, with a start. “You may well start in horror, since you, as well as myself, were a victim of that plot,” said John Keith. “But to return to my story: Louise was not in a condition to make the visit that Mrs. Barry demanded rather than requested. The pretty little madcap, Molly Trueheart, Louise’s step-sister, was tutored to act a part and sent to Ferndale as a substitute.” “Poor child!” exclaimed Cecil Laurens, beginning to understand it all. “It was a bold game, for Molly was expected to keep it up as long as the old lady lived; but there seemed no other way possible. Louise was determined that the will should be made in her favor, and sweet little Molly, who had something of the actress in her veins by inheritance, declared that it would be jolly fun to play the heiress,” John Keith said, sadly, adding, soberly: “There was no fault in Molly Trueheart, except that in one thing she disobeyed her instructions.” “And that?” Cecil Laurens asked, breathlessly. “Was in her marriage to you,” replied the other. “In the fact that Mrs. Barry had in view a possible husband for Louise lay the greatest danger of the whole scheme. Louise bade Molly repel the chosen man by every scheme in her power, so that he should of his own choice reject an alliance with her, thereby breaking off the match without offending Mrs. Barry.” Cecil Laurens cried out, remorsefully: