ned ferry
boat; but he calculated that both the lawyer and Mrs. Ransom would make
use of this, and felt the risk would be less for him if he chose the
slower and less convenient route.

He had given his name on the boat as Roger Johnston, which was true so
far as it went, and he signed this same name at the hotel where he put
up till morning. The place was an entirely unknown one to him and he was
unknown to it. Both fortuitous facts, he thought, in the light of his own
perplexity as to the position in which he really stood towards this
mysterious wife of his.

The coach, as I have said, ran late in the afternoon. This was to
accommodate the passengers who came by rail. But Mr. Ransom had not
planned to go by coach. That would be to risk a premature encounter with
his wife, or at least with the lawyer. He preferred to hire a team, and
be driven there by some indifferent livery-stable man. Neither prospect
was pleasing. It had been raining all night, and bade fair to rain all
day. The river was clouded with mist; the hills, which are the glory of
the place, were obliterated from the landscape, and the road--he had
never seen such a road, all little pools and mud.

However, there was no help for it. The journey must be made, and seeing
a livery-stable sign across the road, lost no time in securing the
conveyance he needed. At nine o'clock he started out.

The rain drove so fiercely from the northwest,--the very direction in
which they were traveling,--that enjoyment of the scenery was impossible.
Nor could any pleasure be got out of conversation with the man who drove
him. Rain, rain, that was all; and the splash of mud over the wheels
which turned all too slowly for his comfort. And there were to be ten
miles of this. Naturally he turned to his thoughts and they were all of
her.

Why had he not known her better before linking his fate to hers? Why had
he never encouraged her to talk to him more about herself and her early
life? Had he but done so, he might now have some clew to the mystery
devouring him. He might know why so rich and independent a woman had
chosen this remote town on an inaccessible road, for the completion of
an act which was in itself a mystery. Why could not the will have been
signed in New York? But he was not inquisitive in those days. He had
taken her for what she seemed--an untrammeled, gay-hearted girl, ready
to love and be his happy wife and lifelong companion; and he had been
contented to