He could not find it in his heart to sadden her by telling her he should never come back again, so, when, after waiting a minute for him to tell her why he had called her, she inquired: “What is it, Mr. William? What can I do for you?” He answered: “You know, Annie, that our landlord’s prudent agent always makes us pay the month’s rent in advance.” “Yes, Mr. William; and I think it is just as well, for it’s off our minds then, you know.” “Yes. Well, I have paid my month’s rent in advance, as usual. I will leave you the receipt for the rent, Annie. There are three weeks yet to run. If I should not return at the end of that time you may give up my room, Annie, and take possession of my furniture. I give it all to you. In the meantime, dear soul, use this room and all there is in it as if it were your own. The weather will soon be warm, and from my room here you will get the sea breeze.” “Oh, Mr. William, you make my heart ache! Why do you talk so? You are not going to die! You are young and healthy! You will come back all right!” said Annie, with her eyes swimming in tears. “Annie,” he said, forcing a smile, “there are other changes besides death, you know.” “That is true,” she murmured. “You might come into a fortune, or you might get married, or you might do both. But you will write and tell me?” “Oh, yes, I will write and tell you; but I want you to know now that after I am gone you are to use this room and furniture as your own to the end of the month, and then, if I do not return, take possession of the furniture,” concluded Harcourt, feeling a secret satisfaction in the knowledge that, whatever should happen to him in the near future, this good woman and sympathetic friend would never know the tragedy of his life—would never recognize in William Harcourt, the convict, William Williams, the young workman. “If anything prevents your coming back, Mr. William, I hope it will be a wife and a fortune,” said Annie as she left the room. Harcourt locked his valise, took a last look around his apartment, and followed her. When he re-entered Annie’s room he found Owlet dressed for her journey. Poor Annie had invested another dollar of her scanty savings for the child’s benefit.