’I passed out through the wicket into the home close, and as I walked about in the grass, under the elms that sprang up from the tall hedge, I thought and thought over what I had seen, but could come to no explanation.  I was standing under a tree, in the shadow which its branches made, when I became suddenly conscious that the tall woman was close to me.  I turned round, and stood face to face with Sinfi Lovell.  The sight of a spectre could not have startled me more, but the effect of my appearance upon her was greater still.  Her face took an expression that seemed to curdle my blood, and she shrieked, “Father! the curse!  Let his children be vagabonds and beg their bread; let them seek it also out of desolate places.”  And then she ran towards the house.

’In a few minutes Mr. D’Arcy came out into the field without his hat, and evidently much agitated.

’"Miss Wynne,” he said, “I fear you must have been half frightened to death.  Never was there such an unlucky contretemps.”

’"But why is Sinfi Lovell here?” I said, “and why was I not told she was here?”

’"Sinfi is an old friend of mine,” he said.  “I have been in the habit of using her as a model for pictures.  She came here to sit to me, when she was taken ill.  She is subject to fits, as you have seen.  The doctor believed that they were over and would not recur, and I had determined that to-morrow I would bring you together.”

’I made no reply, but walked silently by his side across the field to the little wicket.  The confidence I had reposed in Mr. D’Arcy had been like the confidence a child reposes in its father.

’"Miss Wynne,” he said, in a voice full of emotion, “I feel that an unlucky incident has come between us, and yet if I ever did anything for your good, it was when I decided to postpone revealing the fact that Sinfi Lovell was under this roof until her cure was so complete and decisive that you could never by any chance receive the shock that you have now received.”

’I felt that my resentment was melting in the music of his words.

’"What caused the fits?” I said.  “She talked about being under a curse.  What can it mean?”

’"That,” he said, “is too long a story for me to tell you now.”

’"I know,” said I, “that some time ago the tomb of Mr. Aylwin’s father was violated by some undiscovered miscreant, and I know that the words Sinfi uttered just now are the words of a curse written by the dead man on a piece of parchment, and stolen with a jewel from his tomb.  I have seen the parchment itself, and I know the words well.  Her father, Panuel Lovell, is as innocent of the crime of sacrilege as my poor father was.  What could have made her suppose that she had inherited the curse from her father?”

’"I have no explanation to offer,” he said.  “As you know so much of the matter and I know so little, I am inclined to ask you for some explanation of the puzzle.”