d stake my whole life and soul upon one of whom I really knew
nothing. Then came a wave of passion once more and reason was submerged.

I have spoken of the closed doors of her life. I was aware that a young,
unmarried Frenchwoman has usually less liberty than her English sister.
And yet in the case of this lady it continually came out in her
conversation that she had seen and known much of the world. It was the
more distressing to me as whenever she had made an observation which
pointed to this she would afterwards, as I could plainly see, be annoyed
by her own indiscretion, and endeavour to remove the impression by every
means in her power. We had several small quarrels on this account, when
I asked questions to which I could get no answers, but they have been
exaggerated in the address for the prosecution. Too much has been made
also of the intervention of Mrs. Murreyfield, though I admit that the
quarrel was more serious upon that occasion. It arose from my finding
the photograph of a man upon her table, and her evident confusion when I
asked her for some particulars about him. The name "H. Vardin" was
written underneath--evidently an autograph. I was worried by the fact
that this photograph had the frayed appearance of one which has been
carried secretly about, as a girl might conceal the picture of her lover
in her dress. She absolutely refused to give me any information about
him, save to make a statement which I found incredible, that it was a man
whom she had never seen in her life. It was then that I forgot myself. I
raised my voice and declared that I should know more about her life or
that I should break with her, even if my own heart should be broken in
the parting. I was not violent, but Mrs. Murreyfield heard me from the
passage, and came into the room to remonstrate. She was a kind, motherly
person who took a sympathetic interest in our romance, and I remember
that on this occasion she reproved me for my jealousy and finally
persuaded me that I had been unreasonable, so that we became reconciled
once more. Ena was so madly fascinating and I so hopelessly her slave
that she could always draw me back, however much prudence and reason
warned me to escape from her control. I tried again and again to find
out about this man Vardin, but was always met by the same assurance,
which she repeated with every kind of solemn oath, that she had never
seen the man in her life. Why she should carry about t