Did I believe you quite sane, Miriam, grief and anger might
possibly seal my lips upon this subject--but believing you partially
deranged--from illness and other causes--I will defend myself to you.
Sit down and hear me."
Miriam dropped into the nearest chair.
Mr. Willcoxen took another, and commenced:
"You have received some truth, Miriam. How it has been presented to you,
I will not ask now. I may presently. I was married, as you have somehow
ascertained, to Marian Mayfield, just before going to Europe. I
corresponded with her from Glasgow. I did appoint a meeting with her on
the beach, upon the fatal evening in question--for what purpose that
meeting was appointed, it is bootless to tell you, since the meeting
never took place--for some hours before I should have set out to keep my
appointment, my grandfather was stricken with apoplexy. I did not wish
to leave his bedside until the arrival of the doctor. But when the
evening wore on, and the storm approached, I grew uneasy upon Marian's
account, and sent Melchisedek in the gig to fetch her from the beach to
this house--never to leave it. Miriam, the boy reached the sands only to
find her dying. Terrified half out of his senses, he hurried back and
told me this story.
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