"Describe it more particularly."

"I can't. She has brown hair, brown eyes and a skin as white as
milk; but that don't describe her. Lots of women have all that."

"No, it doesn't describe her." His manner seemed to pray for
further details, but she stared back, unresponsive. In fact, she
felt quite helpless. With a sigh of impatience, he resorted again
to question.

"You speak of her as a stranger. Are you quite sure that she is a
stranger to Shelby? You have not been so very many years here, and
her constant wearing of a veil in-doors and out is very
suspicious."

"So I'm beginning to think. And there is something else, judge,
which makes me suspect you may be quite correct about her not
being an entire stranger here. She knows this house too well."

The judge started. The strength of his self-control had relaxed a
bit, and he showed in the look he cast about him what it had cost
him to enter these doors.

"It is not the same, of course," continued Mrs. Yardley, affected
in a peculiar way by the glimpse she had caught of the other's
emotion unnatural and incomprehensible as it appeared to her. "The
place has been greatly changed, but there is a certain portion of
the old house left which only a person who knew it as it
originally was would be apt to find; and yesterday, on going into