ible for her to have been
deceived in that way as for you?"

"Wot yer say?" said Collinson, with a vague suspicion.

"What I mean. You think yourself justified in believing your wife
dead, because she did not seek you here; may she not feel herself
equally justified in believing the same of you, because you had not
sought her elsewhere?"

"But it was writ that she was comin' yere, and--I boarded every train
that come in that fall," said Collinson, with a new irritation, unlike
his usual calm.

"Except one, my dear Collinson,--except one," returned Chivers, holding
up a fat forefinger smilingly. "And that may be the clue. Now, listen!
There is still a chance of following it, if you will. The name of my
friends were Mr. and Mrs. Barker. I regret," he added, with a
perfunctory cough, "that poor Barker is dead. He was not such an
exemplary husband as you are, my dear Collinson, and I fear was not all
that Mrs. Barker could have wished; enough that he succumbed from
various excesses, and did not leave me Mrs. Barker's present address.
But she has a young friend, a ward, living at the convent of Santa
Luisa, whose name is Miss Rivers, who can put you in communication with
her. Now, one thing more: I can understand your feelings, and that you
would wish at once to satisfy your mind. It is not, perhaps, to my
interest nor the interest of my party to advise you, but," he
continued, glancing around him, "you have an admirably secluded
position here, on the edge of the trail, and if you are missing from
your post to-morrow morning, I shall respect your feelings, trust to
your honor to keep this secret, and--consider it useless to pursue you!"

There was neither shame nor pity in his heart, as the deceived man
turned towards him with tremulous eagerness, and grasped his hand in
silent gratitude. But the old rage and fear returned, as Collinson
said gravely:--

"You kinder put a new life inter me, Mr. Chivers, and I wish I had yer
gift o' speech to tell ye so. But I've passed my word to the Capting
thar and to the rest o' you folks that I'd stand guard out yere, and I
don't go back o' my word. I mout, and I moutn't find my Sadie; but she
wouldn't think the less o' me, arter these years o' waitin', ef I
stayed here another night, to guard the house I keep in trust for her,
and the strangers I've took in on her account."

"As you like, then," said Chivers, contracting his lips, "but keep your
own counsel to-night. T