was sent to it to study for the ministry. I wanted to be-- But never
mind that. . . . By the time I was twenty-two I was ready for my career
as a clergyman. I preached for a year around at different places and
then got a church in my home town of Beaumont. I became exceedingly
good friends with a man named Venters, who had recently come to
Beaumont. He was a singular man. His wife was a strange, beautiful
woman, very reserved, and she had wonderful dark eyes. They had money
and were devoted to each other, and perfectly happy. They owned the
finest horses ever seen in Illinois, and their particular enjoyment
seemed to be riding. They were always taking long rides. It was
something worth going far for to see Mrs. Venters on a horse.

"It was through my own love of horses that I became friendly with
Venters. He and his wife attended my church, and as I got to see more
of them, gradually we grew intimate. And it was not until I did get
intimate with them that I realized that both seemed to be haunted by
the past. They were sometimes sad even in their happiness. They
drifted off into dreams. They lived back in another world. They
seemed to be listening. Indeed, they were a singularly interesting
couple, and I grew genuinely fond of them. By and by they had a
little girl whom they named Jane. The coming of the baby made a
change in my friends. They were happier, and I observed that the
haunting shadow did not so often return.

"Venters had spoken of a journey west that he and his wife meant to
take some time. But after the baby came he never mentioned his wife
in connection with the trip. I gathered that he felt compelled to go
to clear up a mystery or to find something--I did not make out just
what. But eventually, and it was about a year ago, he told me his
story--the strangest, wildest, and most tragic I ever heard. I can't