“Yes; you have described it exactly.” “And is it still furnished?” “I should judge it remains just as they left it.” “That is strange, for it is more than twenty years since Annie Dale left it to come to Richmond,” mused Miss Southern. “It was very good of Colonel Mapleson to leave it so,” she added; “perhaps he disliked to disturb anything, hoping that the wanderer might some time return.” Everet did not say what he thought, but his face wore a troubled look. “You were going to tell me what your theory is regarding Miss Dale’s disappearance,” he remarked. “I think there was a lover in the case,” she replied. “I believe she must have made the acquaintance of some young man, who was enamored of her beauty, and who, having won her heart, enticed her to go away with him to some place, promising to marry her, and who then—betrayed her confidence.” “Then you think she was never married?” said the young man, flushing with excitement to find how like her theory his own was. “If she had been a lawful wife I think she would have written of the fact to her nurse; for she promised to let Mauma Gregory hear from her when she was settled, and there has never come a word from her.” “She may have written and the letter miscarried,” Everet suggested. “In that case she would have written again, for Mauma could write, and if Annie did not get an answer to her letter she would have sought a reason. Besides, what you have told me confirms my suspicion; if she had been a happy wife, with a home of her own, she surely would have wanted the articles of furniture belonging to her, and which must have been sacred to her because of their associations. No; I firmly believe that the poor girl met with some crushing sorrow and has either died of a broken heart, or is still hiding herself and her misery from all who ever knew her.” Miss Southern wiped a tear of regret from her eyes as she concluded. Everet Mapleson felt that he could have settled the fate of the unfortunate girl for her by telling what Margery, the flower vender, had told him; but he did not care to say anything about it then, and believing he had learned all that Miss Southern could tell him, he changed the subject, and after a few minutes took his leave, promising to come again to see his father’s old friend upon another visit to Richmond. He went immediately to seek Mauma Gregory, but learned that the faithful old nurse had died nearly two years previous. He was deeply disappointed in having his way thus hedged about, for he was puzzled to know what step to take next. He regretted more than ever that he had neglected to question Margery at the time of his encounter with her in New York. Had he done so, he felt as if he might have now held the key to this perplexing riddle. He turned his face homeward, more miserable and troubled over the matter than he would have cared to own. CHAPTER XXII. A REMARKABLE DISCOVERY.