I turned to see a tall man of about thirty standing just behind us. His
face, with its heavy moustache, sneering mouth, and darkened, sullen
eyes, was not a pleasant one, and his impudent question annoyed me. My
friend, with a few sharp retorts, delivered to him a crushing snub, and
the man turned away, scowling. We saw him cross the road to the
middle-aged man who had been speaking to the old Italian woman and her
charge. And then we, too, went our way.

The girl's face haunted me, but we never saw her again in the city of
Turin.

Some weeks later, when I was wandering through London, I suddenly came
upon her in the company of her old nurse. I tracked her to her lodgings
and there engaged rooms myself. An accident to the nurse, whose name I
discovered was Theresa, gave me an opportunity of introducing myself.
The girl spoke to me, but her voice and her manner was strangely
apathetic. She seemed never to know me unless I spoke to her, and then,
unless I asked questions, our conversation died a natural death. To make
love to her seemed impossible, and yet I loved her passionately.

At last, by aid of bribes, I managed to secure the qualified assistance
of Theresa. She promised to place my proposals before the girl's
guardian. Of Pauline herself--such was the girl's name--Theresa would
say nothing. When I asked her if she thought the girl cared for me, she
replied mysteriously and enigmatically.

"Who knows? I do not know--but I tell you the _signorina_ is not for
love or marriage."

Theresa fulfilled her part of the bargain, and I received a visit from
the middle-aged man I had seen in Turin. His name was Manuel Ceneri. His
sister had married Pauline's father, an Englishman, March by name. He
consented readily to my marriage with Pauline on one condition. I was to
ask no questions, seek to know nothing of her birth and family, nothing
of her early days.

Pauline was called into the room. I took her hand. I asked her to be my
wife.

"Yes, if you wish it," she replied softly, without even changing colour.

She did not repulse me, but she did not respond to my affection. She
remained as calm and undemonstrative as ever.

At Dr. Ceneri's strange urgency, Pauline and I were married two days
later.

_III.--Calling Back the Past_

"Not for love or marriage!"

I learned all too soon the meaning of Theresa's words. Pauline, my wife,
my love, had no past. Slowly at first, then with swift steps, the truth
cam