“I had no doubt whatever in regard to its legality, if it could be proved. By the humane laws of many of the states, a mock marriage is impossible,” replied Eugene. “If either of the parties intend to marry, the marriage is legal. The difficulty in this case was, that we could obtain no evidence, and Buckstone repudiated it.” “Mrs. Buckstone, here is your marriage certificate,” added the doctor, handing her the important document. “Impossible!” exclaimed Eugene. “Dick and myself have used every effort to obtain proof of the marriage. We could not obtain a particle of evidence.” “After the death of Buckstone it was an easier matter,” replied Dr. Lynch. “I found Dorning, the artist. He is a miserable fellow. At first he refused to speak a word, but I finally induced him to tell the whole truth. The marriage was solemnized by a broken-down minister; he is a blacksmith now, but preaches when he can find a pulpit. He was fully authorized to marry parties, though, in my opinion, a ten dollar bill would persuade him to marry a man to his own grandmother. The marriage was duly recorded. Dorning, his wife, and a servant girl were witnesses.” “When was it recorded?” “Not till after I had seen the minister. Here is the city clerk’s certificate of the fact, and here is the affidavit of Dorning and his wife, and of the servant, duly sealed and attested for use in any court in the state.” “But you obtained all these papers last summer?” “I did.” “We never heard of them before. Why did you not exhibit them?” “And let Ross be hanged for killing his brother-in-law, instead of being acquitted? Perhaps I was wrong, but this was the reason.” “I will not pretend to say whether you were right or wrong.” “The facts have been presented to the court and the jury just as they appeared to Ross and his sister. Buckstone denied his marriage, and deserted his wife. What Ross did was done with this understanding of the facts. It might have prejudiced the jury if they had known what was apparent to no one until long after the killing had been done. For this reason I kept the papers to myself until after the trial.” “I am very grateful to you, doctor, for what you have done. It is a greater joy to me to know that I was truly a wife than it would be to possess all the world can give.” “I knew it would be. These papers are the best prescription I can give for your bodily ailments.” There could be no doubt in regard to the validity of the papers or the marriage, and Eugene was as grateful as Mary. The doctor took his leave as humbly as though he had not done a good deed--if he had done one; whether he had or not, so far as he was concerned, did not yet appear. So far as Mary was concerned, he had given back to her the reputation she had lost. She was happier in the possession of these papers than she would have been if they were the titles to an empire. “You can speak now, Mary,” said Eugene, when the doctor had gone.