met
with that cool, wide-open gaze of her calm gray eyes, that seemed to
say, "Pray, what is that to your purpose, sir?" and she merely
answered, "Is there anything else that you would like me to do, sir?"
with a marked deference that was really defiant.

But one day I fancied I had got hold of a clue. I was standing in our
lower front hall, when I saw young McPherson, whom I used to know in
New York, coming up the doorsteps.

At the moment that he rung the doorbell, our Mary, who had seen him
from the chamber window, suddenly grew pale, and said to my mother,
"Please, ma'am, will you be so good as to excuse my going to the door?
I feel faint."

My mother spoke over the banisters, and I opened the door, and let in
McPherson.

He and I were jolly together, as old classmates are wont to be, and
orders were given to lay a plate for him at dinner.

Mary prepared the service with her usual skill and care, but pleaded
that her illness increased so that it would be impossible for her to
wait on table. Now, nobody in the house thought there was anything
peculiar about this but myself. My mother, indeed, had noticed that
Mary's faintness had come on very suddenly, as she looked out on the
street; but it was I who suggested to her that McPherson might have
some connection with it.

"Depend upon it, mother, he is somebody whom she has known in her
former life, and doesn't wish to meet," said I.

"Nonsense, Tom; you are always getting up mysteries, and fancying
romances."

Nevertheless, I took a vicious pleasure in experimenting on the
subject; and therefore, a day or two after, when I had got Mary fairly
within eye-range, as she waited on table, I remarked to my mother
carelessly, "By the bye, the McPhersons are coming to Boston to
live."

There was a momentary jerk of Mary's hand, as she was filling a
tumbler, and then I could see the restraint of self-command passing
all over her. I had hit something, I knew; so I pursued my game.

"Yes," I continued, "Jim is here to look at houses; he is thinking
strongly of one in the next block."

There was a look of repressed fear and distress on Mary's face as she
hastily turned away, and made an errand into the china-closet.

"I have found a clue," I said to my mother triumphantly, going to
her room after dinner. "Did you notice Mary's agitation when I spoke
of the McPhersons coming to Boston? By Jove! but the girl is
plucky, though; it was the least little start, and in