“You’ll be able to make more out of it than I can, Mr. Kursdale,” he said. “Heaven knows I read it carefully; but I can only understand that the man is a scoundrel, and that it was my cousin’s evil fortune to love him. I wonder how it is that a simple innocent country girl always does fall in love with a scoundrel, if he has only got a handsome face and a smooth tongue?” The next day was Saturday, and Francis Tredethlyn’s thoughts were strangely divided between the contemplation of his cousin’s unknown wrongs, and the expectation of a day in the sunny gardens and drawing-rooms at the Cedars. Late in the evening there came a letter from Mr. Kursdale, the solicitor,-- “_Yourself and Another._ “DEAR SIR,--After a very careful perusal of the MS. volume intrusted to me by you yesterday, I regret to say that I can only come to one conclusion respecting the intentions of the writer. “I believe that it was this person’s design to involve Miss Susan Tredethlyn in a fictitious marriage, which should be, in fact, no marriage at all. “A marriage before the Registrar would have been as entirely valid, if duly performed, as any religious solemnization. “I conclude, therefore, that the writer of the MS. diary contemplated a sham ceremony, in the presence of some person, falsely representing himself to be the Superintendent Registrar. “I much fear that your cousin’s simplicity would render her likely to be the dupe of any such plot. “Should you wish to communicate with me further on this subject, I shall be glad to wait upon you at any time you may appoint. “I am, dear Sir, yours very obediently, “JAMES KURSDALE.” “A mock marriage!” thought Francis Tredethlyn. “Yes; I understand it all now. There was an insolence in his manner of writing of my pretty Susy that stung me to the very heart. No honest man ever wrote like that of any woman; _no_ man would write like that of a woman whom he meant to make his wife.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XIII. CAUGHT IN THE TOILS.