I attempted to disguise my feelings no longer. The emotion which had thrilled me as I stood once more face to face with her told me the truth. I was in love—deeply in love. Twice, only twice, I had seen her, but that was enough to convince me that if my lot was ever linked with another’s, it must be with this woman’s, whose name, home, or country, I knew not.

There was only one thing I could now do. I must follow the two women. So, for the next hour or more wherever they went, at a respectful distance, I followed. I waited whilst they entered one or two shops, and when their walk was resumed discreetly dogged their steps. I kept so far in the rear that my pursuit was bound to be unnoticed and could cause no annoyance. They soon turned out of Regent Street and walked on until they came to one of those many rows of houses in Maida Vale. I marked the house they entered, and as I passed by it, a few minutes afterwards, saw in the front window the girl arranging a few flowers in a vase. It was evident I had ascertained her abode.

It was Fate! I was in love and could only act as my passion impelled me. I must find out all about this unknown. I must make her acquaintance and so obtain the right of looking into those strange but beautiful eyes. I must hear her speak. I laughed again at the absurdity of being in love with a woman whose voice I had never heard, whose native language was a matter of uncertainty. But then, love is full of absurdities. When once he gets the whip hand he drives us in strange ways.

I formed a bold resolve. I retraced my steps and walked up to the house. The door was opened by a tidy-looking servant.

‘Have you any rooms to let?’ I asked; having jumped at the conclusion that the unknown was only lodging at the house.

The servant replied in the affirmative, and upon my expressing a wish to see the vacant rooms I was shown a dining-room and bedroom on the ground floor.

Had these rooms been dungeons instead of airy, cheerful apartments—had they been empty and bare instead of comfortably furnished—had the rent been fifty pounds a week instead of the moderate sum asked, I should have engaged them. I was very easy to deal with. The landlady was summoned and the bargain struck at once. If that good person had known state of my mind she might have reaped a golden harvest of her ground floor apartments. As it was, the only thing she was exacting in was the matter of references. I named several, then I paid a month’s rent in advance and received her permission, as I had just returned to England and wanted a home at once, to enter into possession that very evening.

‘By the by,’ I said carelessly, as I left the house to get my luggage, ‘I forgot to ask if you have other lodgers—no children, I hope?’

‘No, sir—only a lady and her servant. They are on the first floor—very quiet people.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I dare say I shall be very, comfortable. You may expect me about seven o’clock.’

I had re-engaged my old rooms in Walpole Street before the meeting with my unknown had changed my plans. I went back there, and after packing up all I wanted, informed the people of the house that I was going to stay at a friend’s for a few weeks. The rooms were to be kept for me all the same. At seven o’clock I was at Maida Vale and duly installed.

It was the hand of Fate had wrought this—who could doubt it? This morning I was almost on my way to Turin in search of my love.