revelation of a secret, that he now instinctively felt was bound
up with his own future happiness, he exhibited none of the signs of a
discovered intriguer or unmasked Lothario. He said quietly and coldly:
"I am afraid I have not the pleasure of knowing the young lady, and
certainly have never before addressed her." Yet he scarcely heard his
companion's voice, and answered mechanically, seeing only before him
the vision of the girl's bewitching face, in its still more bewitching
consciousness of his presence. With all that he now knew, or thought
he knew, came a strange delicacy of asking further questions, a vague
fear of compromising HER, a quick impatience of his present deception;
even his whole quest of her seemed now to be a profanation, for which
he must ask her forgiveness. He longed to be alone to recover himself.
Even the temptation to linger on some pretext, and wait for her return
and another glance from her joyous eyes, was not as strong as his
conviction of the necessity of cooler thought and action. He had met
his fate that morning, for good or ill; that was all he knew. As soon
as he could decently retire, he thanked the Lady Superior, promised to
communicate with her later, and taking leave of Father Cipriano, found
himself again in the street.

Who was she, what was she, and what meant her joyous recognition of
him? It is to be feared that it was the last question that affected
him most, now that he felt that he must have really loved her from the
first. Had she really seen him before, and had been as mysteriously
impressed as he was? It was not the reflection of a conceited man, for
Key had not that kind of vanity, and he had already touched the
humility that is at the base of any genuine passion. But he would not
think of that now. He had established the identity of the other woman,
as being her companion in the house in the hollow on that eventful
night; but it was HER profile that he had seen at the window. The
mysterious brother Rivers might have been one of the robbers,--perhaps
the one who accompanied Mrs. Barker to San Jose. But it was plain that
the young girl had no complicity with the actions of the gang, whatever
might have been her companion's confederation. In the prescience of a
true lover, he knew that she must have been deceived and kept in utter
ignorance of it. There was no look of it in her lovely, guileless
eyes; her very impulsiveness and ingenuousness would have lon