As Miriam grew into womanhood prudence kept her silent on the subject of her strange vow. She, however, preserved in her memory the slight indexes that she already had in possession--namely, beginning with Marian's return after her visit to Washington--her changed manner, her fits of reverie, her melancholy when she returned empty-handed from the post-office, her joy when she received letters, which she would read in secret and in silence, or when questioned concerning them, would gently but firmly decline to tell from whom or whence they came; the house-warming at Luckenough, where Marian suddenly became so bright and gay, and the evening succeeding, when she returned home through night and storm, and in such anguish of mind, that she wept all night; and the weeks of unexplained, unaccountable distress that followed this! All these things Miriam recalled, and studied if by any means they might direct her in the discovery of the guilty. And her faithful study had ended in her assurance of one or two facts--or one or two links, perhaps, we should say, in the chain of evidence. The first was, that Marian's mysterious lover had been present in the neighborhood, and perhaps, in the mansion at the time of the house-warming at Luckenough--that he had met her once or more, and that his name was not Thomas Truman--that the latter was an assumed name, for, with all her observation and astute investigation, she had not been able to find that any one of the name of Truman had ever been seen or heard of in the county. She was sure, also, that she had seen the man twice, both times in night and storm, when she had wandered forth in search of Marian. She remembered well the strange figure of that man--the tall form shrouded in the black cloak--the hat drawn over the eyes--the faint spectral gleam of the clear-cut profile--the peculiar fall of light and shade, the decided individuality of air and gait--all was distinct as a picture in her memory, and she felt sure that she would be able to identify that man again. Up to this time, the thought of her secret vow, and her life's mission, had afforded only a romantic and heroic excitement; but the day was fast approaching when these indexes she retained, should point to a clue that should lead through a train of damning circumstantial evidence destined to test her soul by an unexampled trial. Paul Douglass had grown up to be a tall and handsome youth, of a very noble, frank, attractive countenance and manners. To say that he loved Miriam is only to say that he loved himself. She mingled with every thought, and feeling, and purpose of his heart.