Sarah was beginning to recover herself. It was evident, from the whole appearance of the stranger, that he would not adopt this singular mode of addressing her, unless he had some claim to her acquaintance. So she reasoned. Resolving she would no longer play the part of a bashful miss, she said: 'I am very sorry to be obliged to confess it; but, really, I have not the slightest recollection of you.'
'Ah, that is the way with the sex!' continued the other, in the same tone. 'Who would have thought it? After bestowing on me such a precious token (here he presented a locket, in which he exhibited a curl of hair), you now propose to ignore me altogether.'
'I am inclined to think you are the one in error. I am quite sure you mistake me for some other person,' retorted Sarah, quietly.
'Possibly. Therefore, permit me to inquire whether or not I have the honor of addressing Miss Sarah Burns?'
'Yes.'
'Yet you have no recollection of presenting me with this?'
'You must have shown me the wrong locket,' said Sarah, dryly. 'The hair is several shades lighter than mine.'
'True, I did not think of that,' said the mysterious young gentleman.' I ought to have known it would be so; but it never occurred to me. Good-by!'
He bowed courteously and passed on his way, leaving Sarah in complete bewilderment. She walked slowly toward home. She roused her memory. She went through the list of her acquaintances. She endeavored to recall those she had encountered when taking some little trips with her father—but the stranger was not any of these.
A faint outline was, nevertheless, before her. A shadowy image, the same, yet not the same, with the young man who had stood in her path.