woman of fine appearance, although her face wore a look of deep sadness
which seemed to indicate some hidden trouble or sorrow.

Her hair was almost white, but carefully arranged, and lay low upon her
placid, but slightly wrinkled, brow in soft, silken waves that were very
becoming to her. Her complexion was unusually clear and fair for one of
her years, although it might have been enhanced somewhat by the fine vail
of white tulle which she wore over it. She was tall and commanding in
figure, a little inclined toward portliness, but every motion was replete
with graceful dignity and high-bred repose.

After giving directions to her coachman to wait for her, she mounted the
steps leading to the door, pausing for an instant to read the name, "R.
Wesselhoff, M.D." engraved upon a silver plate, before ringing the bell.

A colored servant soon answered her call, and responded affirmatively to
her inquiry if the noted physician was in, then ushered her into a small
but elegantly appointed reception-room upon the right of the lofty hall.

Five minutes later an elderly and singularly prepossessing man entered
and saluted his visitor in a gracious and respectful manner.

"Mrs. Walton, I suppose?" he remarked, just glancing at the card which
she had given the servant.

The woman bowed, then observed, with a patient but pathetic sigh:

"I have called, Doctor Wesselhoff, upon a very sad errand, and one which
I trust you will regard as strictly confidential."