'Forgive me, Arthur, I did not send him as you thought.

It was so cold and stormy, and I had no faith in your presentiments, and so--so--' 'And so you lied to me, and I will never trust you again as long as I live, and if this had been Gretchen, I would kill you, where I stand!' Arthur hissed in a whisper, more terrible to hear than louder tones would have been, 'Yes, I will see this woman whose death lies at your door,' he continued, with a gesture that Frank should precede him.
Arthur was very calm, and collected, and stern, as he followed to the office where the body lay, covered now from view, but showing terribly distinct through the linen sheet folded over it.
'Remove the covering,' he said, in the tone of a master to his slave, and Frank obeyed.
Then bending close to the stiffened form, Arthur examined the face minutely, while Frank looked on alternately between hope and dread, the former of which triumphed as his brother said, quietly: 'Yes, she is French: but I do not know her.

I never saw her before.

Had she nothing with her to tell who she was ?' His mood had passed, and Frank did not hear him now.
'She had a trunk,' he replied.

'Here it is, with her clothes, and the child's, and--a Bible.' 'He said the last slowly, and, taking up the book, opened it as far as possible from the writing on the margin, which might or might not be dangerous.
'It is a German Bible,' he continued, and then Arthur took it quickly from him as if it had been a long-lost friend, turning the worn pages rapidly, but failing to discover the marked passage and the message for some one.
The lock of baby hair and the faded flowers caught his attention, and his breath came hard and pantingly, as for a moment he held the little golden tress which seemed almost to twine itself lovingly around his fingers.
'That must be her child's hair.