“How it all comes back to me,” he said. “It was a beautiful summer night. A wind from the sea came into the room through the open windows, mingled with the breath of tropic flowers. A dim light burned in the room where the dying man lay breathing heavily. They brought my bride in to me. I could not make out either her face or her form for the great billows of snowy lace in which she was enveloped from head to foot, but I fancied that all womanly loveliness was centered in her form. Well, they made her my bride, and then led her quickly from the room, for Monsieur Sanson’s death-hour was near at hand. He thanked me feebly for what I had done, and then he bound me by a solemn oath to protect and cherish his Julie as long as she lived, never leaving nor forsaking her. “‘I have already promised the priest all that,’ I said, in wonder. That was no matter, he said, and persisted in his request that I would solemnly swear to do what he asked. An oath made to a dying man would be more sacred, he said. “Though I thought him unreasonable, I could refuse nothing to a dying man; so I took the oath he asked of me. I thought it could not greatly matter anyhow. I had no idea of ever forsaking my fair young foreign bride. I was too much infatuated with the charming young creature the fertile imagination of the Frenchman had painted for me. “He died in a little while after the ceremony and left me to comfort his bereaved daughter. It was not until after the funeral that she allowed me to see her. She was prostrated by the shock of her father’s death, they told me. “Oh, Mr. Rodney, can you guess what a terrible shock it was to me when I beheld her at last? “I had in my mind the vision of an angel. I imagined my bride lovely in mind as in person, and thought myself most fortunate in the possession of such a perfect creature. “When they showed me the creature to whom I had bound myself--the misshapen, deformed, blighted creature, with a mind as blasted and out of shape as her body--do you wonder that I almost went mad?” “Surely the laws of any land would have freed you from such a creature!” exclaimed Mr. Rodney, indignantly. “I made no attempt to free myself,” said Oran Delaney. “I was so shocked at finding myself placed in such a terrible position, so ashamed of the foolish ease with which I had fallen into the trap set for me, that I was like one dazed or stunned. It was some little while before I realized it, and then the weight of my oath to the dying held me back from taking any steps toward freeing myself from my horrible incubus. “Monsieur Sanson had left a letter for me, too. It was a confession.” “A confession!” repeated Mr. Rodney. “Yes. It appeared that the story of the accidental shooting was all a hoax. The man had given himself the death-blow with a suicidal intent.” Mr. Rodney uttered an exclamation of horror and dismay. “He had committed suicide, but why?”