But the white mask spoiled all.

She was undersized and very slender, and there was one peculiarity about her I noticed--an abundance of bright, golden ringlets." The reverend gentleman paused an instant to take breath.
Mollie Dane, scarcely breathing herself, listening absorbed, here became conscious, by some sort of prescience, of the basilisk gaze her guardian's wife had fixed upon her.
The strangest, smile sat on her arrogant face as she looked steadfastly at Mollie's flowing yellow curls.
"I married that mysterious pair," went on the clergyman--"Ernest and Mary.

There were two witnesses--my respectable young woman and the coachman; there was the ring--everything necessary and proper." Mollie's left hand was on the table.

A plain, thick band of gold gleamed on the third finger.

She hastily snatched it away, but not before Mrs.
Walraven's black eyes saw it.
"I was brought home," concluded the clergyman, "and left standing, as morning broke, close to my own door, and I have never heard or seen my mysterious masks since.