"Madam," said Broadhead, sternly, "you shall hear the truth. He shot himself on the top of the hill the day of the battle with this revolver," laying the weapon on the table. "Here is his sword and his watch and a lock of his hair. I suppose you don't care for them."
"I care for everything that belonged to him more than Heaven itself."
"You are free now," said Broadhead; "you can marry your—your—friend."
"Never! He has driven me away, cast me off, and I hate him! I hated him from the very moment—I shall be free, anyway. He said nothing before he died?"
"Nothing."
"And this is all you can tell me?"
"All."
"Will you leave me now?"
"What? Alone in this empty house?"
"It's my house, isn't it? I am still Mrs. Kirke, am I not?"