I knew all the current gossip about Mrs. Packard before I had
parted with Miss Davies. Her story was a simple one. Bred in
the West, she had come, immediately after her mother's death, to
live with that mother's brother in Detroit. In doing this she
had walked into a fortune. Her uncle was a rich man and when he
died, which was about a year after her marriage with Mr. Packard
and removal to C--, she found herself the recipient of an
enormous legacy. She was therefore a woman of independent means,
an advantage which, added to personal attractions of a high
order, and manners at once dignified and winning, caused her to
be universally regarded as a woman greatly to be envied by all
who appreciated a well-founded popularity.

So much for public opinion. It differs materially from that just
given me by her husband.

The mayor lived on Franklin Street in a quarter I had seldom
visited. As I entered this once aristocratic thoroughfare from
Carlton Avenue, I was struck as I had been before by its
heterogeneous appearance. Houses of strictly modern type
neighbored those of a former period, and it was not uncommon to
see mansion and hovel confronting each other from the opposite
side of the street. Should I find the number I sought attached
to one of the crude, unmeaning dwellings I was constantly
passing, or to one of mellower aspect and possibly historic
association?

I own that I felt a decided curiosity on this point, and
congratulated myself greatly when I had left behind me a
peculiarly obnoxious monstrosity in stone, whose imposing