"Singular!" said my wife, as if speaking to herself. "Now, that
explains, in part, something that I couldn't just make out
yesterday. I was late in getting home from Aunt Elder's you know.
Well, as I came in view of that old house, I thought I saw a girl
standing by the gate. An appearance so unusual, caused me to strain
my eyes to make out the figure, but the twilight had fallen too
deeply. While I still looked, the form disappeared; but, through an
opening in the shrubbery, I caught another glimpse of it, as it
vanished in the portico. I was going to speak of the incident, but
other matters pushed it, till now, from my thoughts when you were at
home."
"Then my eyes did not deceive me," said I; "your story corroborates
mine. There is a young lady in the Allen House. But who is she? That
is the question."
As we could not get beyond this question, we left the riddle for
time to solve, and turned next to the singular state of mind into
which young Henry Wallingford had fallen.
"Well," said my wife, speaking with some emphasis, after I had told
her of the case, "I never imagined that he cared so much for the
girl!"
"What girl?" I inquired.
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