Lurida Vincent, Secretary of the Pansophian Society.

To this note the Secretary received the following reply: 
Miss Lurida Vincent,

Arrowhead village, August 4, 18-.

Secretary of the Pansophian Society: 

Dear miss Vincent,—­I have received the ticket you refer to, and desire to express my acknowledgments for the polite attention.  I regret that I have not been and I fear shall not be able to attend the meetings of the Society; but if any subject occurs to me on which I feel an inclination to write, it will give me pleasure to send a paper, to be disposed of as the Society may see fit.

Very respectfully yours,
Maurice Kirkwood.

“He says nothing about the authorship of the paper that was read the other evening,” the Secretary said to herself.  “No matter,—­he wrote it,—­there is no mistaking his handwriting.  We know something about him, now, at any rate.  But why doesn’t he come to our meetings?  What has his antipathy to do with his staying away?  I must find out what his secret is, and I will.  I don’t believe it’s harder than it was to solve that prize problem which puzzled so many teachers, or than beating Crakowitz, the great chess-player.”

To this enigma, then, The Terror determined to bend all the faculties which had excited the admiration and sometimes the amazement of those who knew her in her school-days.  It was a very delicate piece of business; for though Lurida was an intrepid woman’s rights advocate, and believed she was entitled to do almost everything that men dared to, she knew very well there were certain limits which a young woman like herself must not pass.

In the mean time Maurice had received a visit from the young student at the University,—­the same whom he had rescued from his dangerous predicament in the lake.  With him had called one of the teachers,—­an instructor in modern languages, a native of Italy.  Maurice and the instructor exchanged a few words in Italian.  The young man spoke it with the ease which implied long familiarity with its use.

After they left, the instructor asked many curious questions about him,—­who he was, how long he had been in the village, whether anything was known of his history,—­all these inquiries with an eagerness which implied some special and peculiar reason for the interest they evinced.

“I feel satisfied,” the instructor said, “that I have met that young man in my own country.  It was a number of years ago, and of course he has altered in appearance a good deal; but there is a look about him of—­what shall I call it?—–­apprehension,—­as if he were fearing the approach of something or somebody.  I think it is the way a man would look that was haunted; you know what I mean,—­followed by a spirit or ghost.  He does not suggest the idea of a murderer,—­very far from it; but if he did, I should think he was every minute in fear of seeing the murdered man’s spirit.”