could once more hear the sound of Maggie's voice. The secret,
however, had been forgotten in the exciting scenes through which
Maggie had passed since first she learned of its existence; and it was
now a long time since she had mentioned it to Hagar, who each day grew
more and more determined never to reveal it.

"My life is almost ended," she thought, "and the secret shall go with
me to my grave. Margaret will be happier without it, and it shall not
be revealed."

Thus she reasoned on that rainy afternoon, when she sat waiting for
Maggie, who, she heard, had returned the day before. Slowly the hours
dragged on, and the night shadows fell at last upon the forest
trees, creeping into the corners of Hagar's room, resting upon the
hearthstone, falling upon the window pane, creeping up the wall, and
affecting Hagar with a nameless fear of some impending evil. This fear
not even the flickering flame of the lamp, which she lighted at last
and placed upon the mantel, was able to dispel, for the shadows grew
darker, folding themselves around her heart, until she covered her
eyes with her hands, lest some goblin shape should spring into life
before her.

The sound of the gate latch was heard, and footsteps were approaching
the door--not the bounding step of Maggie, but a tramping tread,
followed by a heavy knock, and next moment a tall, heavy-built man
appeared before her, asking shelter for the night. The pack he carried
showed him at once to be a peddler, and upon a nearer view Hagar
recognized in him a stranger who, years before, had craved her
hospitality. He had been civil to her then; she did not fear him now,
and she consented to his remaining, thinking his presence there might
dispel the mysterious terror hanging around her. But few words passed
between them that night, for Martin, as he called himself, was tired,
and after partaking of the supper that she prepared he retired to
rest. The next morning, however, he was more talkative, kindly
enlightening her with regard to his business, his family, and his
place of residence, which last he said was in Meriden, Conn.

It was a long time since Hagar had heard that name, and now, turning
quickly towards him, she said, "Meriden? That is where my Hester
lived, and where her husband died."

"I want to know!" returned the Yankee peddler. "What might have been
his name?"

"Hamilton--Nathan Hamilton. Did you know him? He died nineteen years
ago this coming summer."

"Eg