"Oh, long before he died," replied the lady.
Silas sat like one stunned. "Do you mean to tell me that your husband is dead?"
"Why, certainly," replied Mrs. Claiborne. "What possible reason could I have for denying or concealing the fact?"
Silas straightened himself in his chair, and frowned. "Then why did you come here and pretend—pretend—ain't you Ritta Rozelle, that used to be?"
"There were two of them," the lady replied. "They were twins. One was named Clarita, and the other Floretta, but both were called Ritta by those who could not distinguish them apart. I had reason to believe that you hadn't treated my sister as you should have done, and I came here to see if you would take the bait. You snapped it up before the line touched the water. It was not even necessary for me to try to deceive you. You simply shut your eyes and declared that I was your wife and that I had come."
"You are the sister who was going to school in—wasn't it Boston?"
"Yes; that is why I am broad-minded and free from guile," remarked the lady with a laugh so merry that it irritated Silas.
"Then you have never been married to me," Silas suggested, still frowning.
"I thank you kindly, sir, I never have been."
"Well, you never denied it," he said.