frankness and nothing could alter it. As for her, she behaved
beautifully, and by no word or look, so far as the world knew, ever
showed that her woman's pride, if not her heart, had been cut to
the quick, by the one man she adored.

With this incident filling my mind, I returned to Washington. I
had acquainted myself with the open facts of this family's history;
but what of its inner life? Who knew it? Did any one? Even the
man who confided to me the contretemps in the hotel parlor could not
be sure what underlay Mr. Jeffrey's warm advocacy of the woman he
had elected to marry. He could not even be certain that he had
really understood the feeling shown by Cora Tuttle when she heard
the man, who had once lavished attentions on her, express in this
public manner a preference for her sister. A woman has great
aptness in concealing a mortal hurt, and, from what I had seen of
this one, I thought it highly improbable that all was quiet in her
passionate breast because she had turned an impassive front to the
world.

I was becoming confused in the maze of my own imaginings. To escape
the results of this confusion, I determined to drop theory and
confine myself to facts.

And thus passed the first few days succeeding the tragic discovery
in the Moore house.




VII