Long and deeply I pondered over the Colonel's words. That he had some underlying motive in thus warning me against the woman by whom I had become so fascinated was vividly apparent, yet to all my demands he remained dumb. On the afternoon following I found him in the St James's Club--that club of diplomatists--and reverted to the subject. But all the response he vouchsafed was-- "I've merely warned you, my dear fellow. I shall say no more. I, of course, don't blame you for admiring her, I only tell you to pull yourself up short." "But why?" "Because if you go further than admiration you'll be treading dangerous ground--devilish dangerous, I can assure you." "You mean that she has a jealous lover?" I suggested. "She has no lover, as far as I'm aware," he answered. "Then, speaking candidly, Channing," I said, "I don't see why you should turn prophet like this without giving me any reason." "My reason is briefly told," he said with unusual gravity. "I don't wish to see you upset and unhappy, now that you've recovered your sight." His words seemed very lame ones. "Why should I be unhappy?" "Because Mabel Anson can never be more to you than an acquaintance; she can never reciprocate your love. I tell you plainly that if you allow yourself to become entranced and all that sort of thing, you'll only make a confounded ass of yourself." "You certainly speak very plainly," I observed, annoyed that he should interfere so prematurely in a matter which was assuredly my affair alone. "I speak because I have your welfare at heart, Wilford," he answered in a kindly tone. "I only regret now that I asked you to my table to meet her. It is my fault--entirely my fault." "You talk as though she were some genius of evil," I laughed. "Let me act as I think fit, my dear Channing." "Let you go headlong to the devil, eh?" he snapped. "But to love her is not to go on the downward path, surely?" I cried incredulously. "I warn you, once and for all, to have nothing whatever to do with her," he said. "I know her--you do not." But I laughed him to scorn. His words seemed utterly absurd, as though his mind were filled by some strong prejudice which he dared not to utter for fear of laying himself open to an action for slander. If her acquaintance were so extremely undesirable, why did he invite her and her mother to his table? His words were not borne out by his own actions. So I bade him farewell rather coolly, and left the club abruptly, in anger with myself at having sought him, or bestowed a single thought upon his extraordinary warning.