ought to meet my
`Mystery.' That's just her sort of talk. I must say it sounds
beautiful; but I shouldn't think it was practicable. It's a very hard
thing to change people's ideas. When they've held them a certain time
they get used to them, and don't like the trouble of altering."

"True," said Colonel Estcourt, "and therein lies the secret of all the
misery and mistakes that have made the world what it is. The few
enthusiasts and propagandists have always been confronted by that
mountain of inertness, prejudice, and indolence, which the aggregate
portion of all nations oppose to anything newer, or wiser, or better
than the sloth and ignorance of the past."

"Well," laughed Mrs Jefferson, "let's see what this new era will bring
about. There's a grand opening for it, and it has this advantage--
people are much more dissatisfied with old creeds, and much more eager
for new, than they have ever been. The reins are slack, if only there's
a firm and judicious hand to seize them."

"Suppose," drawled Mr Ray Jefferson, who had the rare virtue of being
an admirable listener to any controversy or discussion. "Suppose, my
dear, we have a game of poker."

"Agreed," laughed his wife. "This meeting's adjourned, Colonel
Estcourt. Will you join us."

He shook his head. "No," he said, "I'm going out on the terrace to
smoke."

"And meditate on the Unknown?" queried the little American. "Perhaps
you'll see her at her window. I wish you luck."

He did not answer, but his brow clouded and his face grew anxious and
absorbed. In his heart those light words echoed with a thrill of
mingled pain and dread. "If it should be," he said to himself. "My
God--if it should be she?"

CHAPTER FIVE.

"LOVE."

The stars were gleaming above the dusky pine trees. The soft December
air, mild as spring on that sheltered coast, scarcely stirred the
drooping boughs that overshadowed the terrace. Colonel Estcourt lit his
cigar, and began to pace with slow and thoughtful steps beneath the many
lighted windows of the great building. Mrs Jefferson's words haunted
him, despite his efforts to dispel them. One of those windows belonged
to the room where this strange and beautiful woman might even now be
seated. Why did he picture to himself the pale exquisite face--the full
dark eyes--the lovely rippling hair--as if they were charms already
recognised and remembered. Why?--save that when he had heard their
description they had