CHAPTER II.
ABOUT five months after Alfred Monkton came of age I left college, and resolved to amuse and instruct myself a little by traveling abroad.
At the time when I quitted England young Monkton was still leading his secluded life at the Abbey, and was, in the opinion of everybody, sinking rapidly, if he had not already succumbed, under the hereditary curse of his family.

As to the Elmslies, report said that Ada had benefited by her sojourn abroad, and that mother and daughter were on their way back to England to resume their old relations with the heir of Wincot.

Before they returned I was away on my travels, and wandered half over Europe, hardly ever planning whither I should shape my course beforehand.

Chance, which thus led me everywhere, led me at last to Naples.

There I met with an old school friend, who was one of the _attaches_ at the English embassy, and there began the extraordinary events in connection with Alfred Monkton which form the main interest of the story I am now relating.
I was idling away the time one morning with my friend the _attache_ in the garden of the Villa Reale, when we were passed by a young man, walking alone, who exchanged bows with my friend.
I thought I recognized the dark, eager eyes, the colorless cheeks, the strangely-vigilant, anxious expression which I remembered in past times as characteristic of Alfred Monkton's face, and was about to question my friend on the subject, when he gave me unasked the information of which I was in search.
"That is Alfred Monkton," said he; "he comes from your part of England.
You ought to know him." "I do know a little of him," I answered; "he was engaged to Miss Elmslie when I was last in the neighborhood of Wincot.