"How long ago was it?"
"I can tell you exactly," I said. "The date is graven on my heart. It was the twenty-fourth of October."
"This year?"
"This year."
"The twenty-fourth of October!" she repeated musingly. "Only a few weeks before he died. Poor father, peace be upon him! The twenty-fourth of October, did you say?" she added, suddenly.
"What is the matter?" I asked. "You are agitated."
"No, it is nothing. It cannot be," she added, more calmly. "Of course not." She smiled faintly. "I thought——" she paused.
"You thought what?"
"Oh, well, I'll show you I was mistaken." She rose, went to the book-case, drew out a little brown-paper covered volume, and turned over the pages scrutinizingly. Suddenly a change came over the beautiful face; she stood motionless, pale as a statue.
A chill shadow fell across my heart, distracted between tense curiosity and dread of a tragic solution.