ne of the boys to go with
you--". But he received no encouragement, and allowed his suggestion to
remain unfinished.

She looked grateful for this, and was pulling down her veil when she
perceived two or three men on the other side of the room, watching her in
evident wonder. Stepping back to the desk, she addressed the clerk again,
this time with a marked distinctness:

"I have been very ill, I know, and not always quite myself. But the
shock of this accident to my nurse has cleared my brain and made me
capable again of attending to my own affairs. You can trust me; I can
do my errands all right; but perhaps I had better have one of the boys
go with me."

The clerk, greatly relieved, rang his bell, and the gentlemen at the
other end of the room sauntered elsewhere to exchange their impressions
of an incident which was remarkable enough in itself, without the
accentuation put upon it by the extreme beauty of the girl and the one
conspicuous blemish to that beauty--her unfortunate scar. With what
additional wonder would they have regarded the occurrence, had they known
that the object of their interest was not an unknown Miss Campbell, but
the much pitied, much talked-of Carmel Cumberland, sister of the man then
on trial for his life in a New York town.

With her first step into the street, Carmel's freshly freed mind began
its work. She knew she was in a place called Lakewood, but she knew
little of its location, save that it was somewhere in New Jersey. Another
strange thing! she did not recognise the streets. They were new to her.
She did not remember ever having been in them before.

"Where is the railroad station?" she inquired of the boy who was trotting
along at her side.

"Over there," he answered, vaguely.

"Take me to it."

He obeyed, and they threaded several streets whose lighted shops pleased
her, notwithstanding her cares; such a joy it was to be alive to things
once more, and capable of remembrance, even though remembrance brought
visions at which she shuddered, and turned away, appalled.

The sight of the station, from which a train was just leaving,
frightened her for a moment with its bustle and many lights; but she
rallied under the stress of her purpose, and, entering, found the
telegraph office, from which she sent this message, directed to her
physician, at home, Dr. Carpenter:

"Look for me on early train. All is clear to me now, and I must return.
Preserve silence till we meet."

Th