be strangely and unaccountably right in assuming it as more than
probable that Arthur Holliday would marry the young lady who had
given him the water-colour drawing of the landscape. That marriage
took place a little more than a year after the events occurred
which I have just been relating. The young couple came to live in
the neighbourhood in which I was then established in practice. I
was present at the wedding, and was rather surprised to find that
Arthur was singularly reserved with me, both before and after his
marriage, on the subject of the young lady's prior engagement. He
only referred to it once, when we were alone, merely telling me, on
that occasion, that his wife had done all that honour and duty
required of her in the matter, and that the engagement had been
broken off with the full approval of her parents. I never heard
more from him than this. For three years he and his wife lived
together happily. At the expiration of that time, the symptoms of
a serious illness first declared themselves in Mrs. Arthur
Holliday. It turned out to be a long, lingering, hopeless malady.
I attended her throughout. We had been great friends when she was
well, and we became more attached to each other than ever when she
was ill. I had many long and interesting conversations with her in
the intervals when she suffered least. The result of one of these
conversations I may briefly relate, leaving you to draw any
inferences from it that you please.

The interview to which I refer, occurred shortly before her death.
I called one evening, as usual, and found her alone, with a look in
her eyes which told me that she had been crying. She only informed
me at first, that she had been depressed in spirits; but, by little
and little, she became more communicative, and confessed to me that
she had been looking over some old letters, which had been