"California! Have you been in California?" she exclaimed, dropping into the chair at once. Unconsciously, she had long cherished the idea that Sam Payson, the lover of her youth, with whom she had so foolishly quarreled, had pitched his tent, after many wanderings, in that far-off land. Her heart warmed to one who, with something of Sam's looks and ways about him, had also been sojourning in that country, and who very possibly had met him--perhaps had known him intimately! At that thought her heart beat quick, and she looked very graciously at the bearded stranger, who, wrapped in Mr. Townsend's dressing-gown, wearing Mr. Townsend's slippers, and sitting in Mr. Townsend's chair, beside Mr. Townsend's wife, smoked Mr. Townsend's pipe with such an air of feeling most thoroughly and comfortably at home! "Yes, ma'am. I've been in California for the last six years. And before that I went quite round the world in a whaling ship!" "Good gracious!" The stranger sent a puff of smoke curling gracefully over his head. "It's very strange, my dear lady, how often you see one thing as you go wandering about the world after that fashion." "And what is that?" "Men, without house or home above their heads, roving here and there, and turning up in all sorts of odd places; caring very little for life as a general thing, and making fortunes just to fling them away again, and all for one reason. You don't ask me what _that_ is? No doubt you know already very well." "I think not, sir." "Because a woman has jilted them!" Here was a long pause, and Mr. Townsend's pipe emitted short puffs with surprising rapidity. A guilty conscience needs no accuser, and the widow's cheek was dyed with blushes as she thought of the absent Sam. "I wonder how women manage when _they_ get served in the same way," said the stranger musingly; "you never meet _them_ roaming up and down in that style." "No," said Mrs. Townsend, with some spirit, "if a woman is in trouble she must stay at home and bear it, the best way she can. And there's more women bearing such things than we know of, I dare say." "Like enough. We never know whose hand gets pinched in a trap unless they scream. And women are too shy or too sensible--which you choose--for that." "Did you ever, in all your wanderings, meet any one by the name of Samuel Payson?" asked the widow, unconcernedly. The stranger looked toward her; she was rummaging the table-drawer for her knitting work, and did not notice him. When it was found, and the needles in motion, he answered her. "Payson--Sam Payson? Why, he was my most intimate friend! Do you know him?" "A little--that is, I used to, when I was a girl. Where did you meet him?" "He went with me on the whaling voyage I told you of, and afterward to California. We had a tent together, and some other fellows with us, and we worked the same claim for more than six months." "I suppose he was quite well?" "Strong as an ox."