"I fancied it might have happened when she was very young," I explained; "when she was abroad, perhaps. I've even pictured the man to myself as an adventurer, French or Italian, a man of the world, polished, without heart, perhaps even base at bottom--a man who would not hesitate to take advantage of her girlish innocence." My companion smiled faintly. "I see you have a lively imagination, Mr. Lester," he said. "Don't let it run away with you." "She would not be the first to succumb to such a one," I retorted. "No, nor the last, I fear. Have you worked out the rest of the story?" "Granting the premises, the rest is easy enough. She soon found him out and took refuge with her mother. The scoundrel was bought off and disappeared. She supposed him dead; but at the last moment, he appeared again." Dr. Schuyler had listened with half-closed eyes. Now he opened them and looked at me amusedly. "It sounds like some of the yellow-backs I used to read in my unregenerate youth," he commented. "I fancy you must have read them too, Mr. Lester. Now I want you to dismiss that theory," he went on, more earnestly. "I tell you, once for all, it's ridiculous and untrue. Rest assured that whatever the secret is, it does not in any way reflect upon her." "Then that leaves us all at sea," I pointed out. "There can be no question of her love for Curtiss." "None whatever. As I said, I've seen them together, and I'm sure she loved him devotedly. Of his feeling for her you have, of course, been able to judge for yourself. I've looked forward to the wedding with much pleasure, for it seemed to me the least worldly one that I had ever been asked to consecrate. It is a singular coincidence, though----" He stopped suddenly and glanced about the room. "Of course, this conversation is between ourselves, Mr. Lester?" "Certainly," I assented. "I would wish to have it so." "With that understanding, I shall be glad to help you, if I can. I was about to say that it is a very singular coincidence that something of the same sort happened many years ago to Mrs. Lawrence." CHAPTER IX The Old Sorrow "To Mrs. Lawrence?" I repeated. Here was a coincidence, indeed! Could it be, I asked myself again, that this thing had been deliberately arranged? But I dismissed the thought as ridiculous. "I will tell you the story so far I know it," said the clergyman. "It is no breach of trust to do so, for it was public property at the time, though long since forgotten. I should not recall it now but for the fact that it may shed some light upon to-day's occurrence." "Perhaps it will," I agreed.