At the end of the week we found the widow waiting to receive us.

To describe her personally, she was a little lady, with a remarkably
pretty figure, a clear pale complexion, a broad low forehead, and large,
steady, brightly-intelligent gray eyes. Having married a man very much
older than herself, she was still (after many years of wedded life) a
notably attractive woman. But she never seemed to be conscious of her
personal advantages, or vain of the very remarkable abilities which she
did unquestionably possess. Under ordinary circumstances, she was a
singularly gentle, unobtrusive creature. But let the occasion call for
it, and the reserves of resolution in her showed themselves instantly. In
all my experience I have never met with such a firm woman, when she was
once roused.

She entered on her business with us, wasting no time in preliminary
words. Her face showed plain signs, poor soul, of a wakeful and tearful
night. But she claimed no indulgence on that account. When she spoke of
her dead husband--excepting a slight unsteadiness in her voice--she
controlled herself with a courage which was at once pitiable and
admirable to see.

"You both know," she began, "that Mr. Wagner was a man who thought for
himself. He had ideas of his duty to his poor and afflicted
fellow-creatures which are in advance of received opinions in the world
about us. I love and revere his memory--and (please God) I mean to carry
out his ideas."

The lawyer began to look uneasy. "Do you refer, madam, to Mr. Wagner's
political opinions?" he inquired.