as troubling his heart. So I said, 'What is it,
Philip? I do not understand why you are acting so strangely.'

"His only reply was to ask me, in an odd voice, when it happened; how
long ago.

"I told him 'eighteen years, when I was a baby about three years old.'
Don, I can't tell you how I felt then, for he looked so peculiar--almost
as though he were stunned. And he could not seem to say anything. I was
frightened. I begged him to speak to me, and told him that he looked as
though he had seen a ghost. 'I have ... at least I have if my suspicion
is true. But it can't be; oh, it is unbelievable, impossible,' he broke
out.

"I didn't know what to say or do, he looked almost as though he were ...
were not in his right mind; and, when I put my hand on his arm and
begged him to tell me what the trouble was, he shook it off, and began
to speak ... oh, I cannot tell you how. It sounded as though some one
else were speaking, and uttering the words hesitatingly.

"'Try and remember, Smiles. Call on your memory of the long ago, if
there is a single spark of it still lingering in your mind. Oh, it means
so much, dear, so much that I am almost afraid to ask the question, but
I have got to, I have got to!'

"He waited until I thought I should go mad, Don, and then said, in
little more than a whisper, 'Did you ever, back in your babyhood, hear
the name, Anna Rose Young? Think, Smiles, think hard.'

"Perhaps you will not believe it; but it seemed as though something long
forgotten were actually stirring in my heart, and as though it were
groping blindly in the mists of memory. I could not be sure, yet
something forced me to answer, uncertainly, 'Yes, I think, I believe
that I do remember that name; but I don't know where I could have heard
it. What do you mean, Philip?'

"His answer surprised me as much as the first question, for he said,
'Was it in ... Louisville?'

"'Louisville? I have never been there, Philip. And yet....' There was
the strange stir in my memory again. Oh, it was all so puzzling.

"'Anna Rose Young,' he repeated insistently. 'They called her Rose,
because ... because her mother's name was the same.'

"'They called _her_ ... Philip, I do remember, now. It's my own name!
Oh, Philip, you know who I am! But how, Phil?' I was clinging to him as
though I must draw the truth from him physically; but he went on, almost
mechanically, and his breath came hard, I could feel him tremble, Don."

Now her own low voi