see the
passengers who boarded the train at the next station beyond Amity,
and that Wollaston Lee was one of them. Indeed, she might not at
once have recognized him, although the man retained in a marked
degree the features of the boy. Wollaston had grown both tall and
broad-shouldered, and had a mustache. He was a handsome fellow, well
dressed, and with an easy carriage, and he had an expression of
intelligent good-humor which made more than one woman in the car look
at him. Although Maria did not see him, he saw her at once, and
recognized her, and his handsome face paled. The ridiculous
complexity of his position towards her had not tended to make him
very happy. He had kept the secret as well as Maria; for him, as for
her, a secret was a heavy burden, almost amounting to guilt. He
continued to glance furtively at her from time to time. He thought
that she was very pretty, and also that there was something amiss
with her. He, as well as the girl, had entirely gotten over his
boyish romance, but the impulse to honorable dealing and duty towards
her had not in the least weakened.

When the train stopped at Ridgewood he rose. Maria did not stir.
Wollaston stopped, and saw the conductor touch Maria, and heard him
say, "This is your station, lady."

Maria rose mechanically and followed the conductor through the car.
When she had descended the steps Wollaston, who had gotten off just
in advance, stood aside and waited. He felt uneasy without just
knowing why. It seemed to him that there was something strange about
the girl's bearing. He thought so the more when she stood motionless
on the platform and remained there a moment or more after the train
had moved out; then she went towards a bench outside the station and
sat down. Wollaston made up his mind that there was something
strange, and that he must speak to her.

He approached her, and he could hear his heart beat. He stood in
front of her, and raised his hat. Maria did not look up. Her eyes
seemed fixed on a fringe of wood across the track in which some
katydids were calling, late as it was. That wood, with its persistent
voices of unseen things, served to turn her thought from herself,
just as the cry of the child had done.

"Miss Edgham," said Wollaston, in a strained voice. It suddenly
occurred to him that that was not the girl's name at all, that she
was in reality Mrs. Lee, not Miss Edgham.

Maria did not seem to see him until he had repeated her name aga