"Yes, that's it. Of course he's utterly unlike what Leicester was, and yet he makes one think of him. You remember what a fine golfer he was and how deadly he was on the greens. If Leicester had lived, and had come here, they would have found a lot in common with each other."

"If Leicester had lived, my dear fellow, I don't suppose we should ever have come here."

"No, perhaps not. Still, this man reminds me of him. There is always the feeling that he's keeping something back. Somehow, I don't know why, but the fellow got on my nerves this morning. I was always seeing a double meaning in everything he said. Why, do you know at one time I positively feared him. I seemed to be playing for some fearful stake. I was reminded of that picture where a man plays chess with the devil for his soul. Then every now and then I fancied it was Leicester who was speaking. Yes, I know it was not Leicester's voice, neither is he like what Leicester was. His eyes are different, and of course his face is different. Leicester's face was pale as death; it was thin, too, and suggested the Greeks; this man, with his great black beard and dark skin, is different from what Leicester was; and yet sometimes he was like Leicester. Don't you remember that Oxford insolence of Leicester's which used to madden some people, and how while saying the most innocent-sounding things he was just laughing at them all the time?

That's what I felt about this fellow. He speaks English with a foreign accent, and yet I felt sometimes as though he knew England well."

"Probably he does."

"He says he's only been in the country three months."

"You saw him go away with----"

"Yes, I saw him. That young fellow who was with her introduced him. By the way, do you think she was near enough to know who we were?"

"I should think not. They moved away directly the stranger came up."

"We shall see her at the concert to-morrow night, I suppose. My word, Purvis, I feel nervous."

"Give it up, Sprague--give it up, man. You asked her years ago, and she refused you. What has happened since is not likely to endear you to her."

"Rather I think it is. Do you know I have a feeling that she is thankful to me now?"

"By the way, I should like you to challenge this Signor Ricordo to golf to-morrow. I will get a match with some one in the morning, and then during the afternoon we can play a foursome."

"I suppose one of us must ask him to play again; but do you know, I don't like the fellow."

"On the other hand, I do," said Purvis. "I shall make up to him to-night. He is one of those men who make you want to know them better.

I'll warrant he could tell us a curious history if he liked."

The next day Signor Ricordo and Sprague played their return match, but the latter was not at his best. He complained that he had an attack of indigestion, and that his nerves had gone wrong. As a consequence Ricordo won easily.

"You play a remarkable game, signore; that is for one who has had so little practice," he said.

"Ah, I am but a beginner, Mr. Sprague," he said quietly; "some time perhaps I may play a good game."

"You never suffer from nerves, I suppose?"

"Yes, horribly."

"Then you have wonderful self-command."

"A man can will anything. There is no difficulty that will-power cannot overcome. Golf, like life, is a game; to will to win, is to win."

"I willed to win; but lost."

"No, you made up your mind to try. I always go further. I willed to win, if not one day, then the next."

"And you always do?"

"Yes, I always do."

Sprague laughed uneasily.

"Do you mean to say that you have gained everything that you have set your mind upon?" he asked curiously.

"Not yet, but I shall. Some games are long, they take time. But there is always a to-morrow to the man who wills."

"Is that a part of your Eastern philosophy?"

"If you will. Eastern or Western, it does not matter--human nature is always the same."

"But human nature has its limitations. Life is not very long, after all."

"I do not know your English literature well, Signore Sprague; but I have read your Browning. He had the greatest brain of the nineteenth century, I think. His mixture of Eastern blood may account for it. He said 'Leave "now" to dogs and apes, man has for ever.' That is always true. There is no death, or if there is, man always rises again."

"Then you believe that what a man fails to do in this life, he will do in another?"

"Always. There is one thing a man never loses--memory. It may leave him for a time; but it always returns. Do you know Italian, signore?"

"No."

"My name is Ricordo. It means remembrance. It is not only a name, it is an expression of an eternal truth. Nothing is forgotten, nothing. Even those whom we call dead remember."

"Ah, you are beyond me," laughed Sprague uneasily. "I am no philosopher.

Still, I shall remember what you say about 'willing.' When next we play I shall will to win."

"So shall I."

"What will happen then?"

"Victory for the strongest will."

The two men separated, Sprague with an uneasy feeling in his heart, and Ricordo with a strange smile upon his face.

That evening the concert was held in the village hall, during which Signor Ricordo manifested but little enthusiasm. Indeed, during most of the time he sat with his eyes closed, and once or twice he seemed to suppress a yawn with difficulty, as though he were bored. When Olive sang, however, all was different. He watched her face closely, and listened with almost painful attention. He seemed pleased when the audience applauded, and more than once he uttered a low "bravo"; but there was no marked enthusiasm in his appreciation. Indeed, it was difficult to tell what he thought of her performance as a whole.

When the concert was over, he was introduced to John Castlemaine. This was the first time he had met him. Mr. Castlemaine had been away to London for several days, and had only returned the day before. Olive had spoken to him concerning Ricordo on her return from the golf links, and he was prepared to be interested in the man from the East.

"This must be a great change from your Eastern life, Signor Ricordo," he said.

"Yes, and no," replied Ricordo; "but it has been very interesting."

"Are you staying long?"

"In Vale Linden? Only a few days, I expect. In England? Yes, for some months, I think. Probably until your summer is over. It would be hard to spend another winter in England. I came just after your Christmas, and I spent three months in London. I had affairs there."

"Ah, you are a man of business, then?"