tried to keep my voice quite natural, but something in my tone must have
struck him.

"You have an idea in your mind about this condition Rosemary makes!" he
challenged.

CHAPTER IV

THE OLD LOVE STORY

"Oh--one simply wonders a little!" I stammered.

Major Murray's face changed. "Of course, there's one idea which presents
itself instantly to the mind," he said. "But it's such an obvious one! I
confess I had it myself at first--just for a moment. I even asked
Rosemary, because--well, she might have been in trouble that wasn't her
fault. I asked her if she were sure that she was free to marry--that
there was no legal hitch. I said that if there were, she must tell me
the truth without fear, and I would see if it couldn't be made right.
But she assured me that, so far as the law is concerned, she's as free
as though she were a girl. I believe her, Lady Courtenaye; and I think
you would believe if you could have looked into her eyes then. No,
there's another reason--not obvious like the first; on the contrary,
it's obscure. I wish you'd try to get light on it."

"I'll try if you want me to," I promised. "But I don't expect to
succeed."

Major Murray looked more anxious than I had seen him since Mrs.
Brandreth appeared on deck that second day at sea. "Hasn't she confided
in you at all?" he asked.

"Only"--I hesitated an instant--"only to tell me of her love, and her
engagement to you." This was the truth, with one tiny reservation. I
couldn't give Rosemary away, by mentioning the "obstacle" at which she'd
hinted.

"She never even told you about our first engagement, eight years ago?"
he persisted.

"No."

"Well, I'd like to tell you that, if the story won't bore you?"

"It will interest me," I said. "But perhaps Mrs. Brandreth mightn't----"

"She won't mind; I'm sure of that, from things she's said. But it's a
subject easier for me to talk about than for her. She was travelling in
Italy with an aunt--a sister of her mother's--when we met. She was just
seventeen. I fell in love with her at first sight. Do you wonder? It was
at Bellagio, but I followed her and the aunt from place to place. The
aunt was a widow, who'd married an American, and I imagined that she
wasn't kind to her niece--the girl looked so unhappy. But I did Mrs.
Brandreth an injustice----"

"Mrs. Brandreth?" I had to interrupt. "Rosemary was already----"

"No, no! The aunt's name was Mrs. Brandreth. The man Rosemary married a
few