“When I wrote that letter to you, Will, my cousin, was sick, and going to die, and I was taking care of him among the mountains of Pennsylvania. By some chance, we had changed names; he was Henry Morton, I was Will Delong; and it occurred to me that here was a chance for my life. I’d throw the hounds off my track, and breathe again a free man; so I wrote that I was dying, and after Will was dead I caused to be published in several papers the notice that Henry Morton, the man who was arrested for burglary, and tried as _John Sand_, and broke from his prison, had recently died. I saw the notice copied into other papers, and felt that I was safe so long as I staid away from those who knew me, and would recognize my blind eye. To remedy this defect, I took to wearing glasses, which answered very well. I travelled West and South, and crossed finally to England, then to Scotland, where I got me a little home among the heather hills, and tried to be a decent man.” “Why didn’t you stay there?” Georgie asked; and he replied: “I wanted to know if you were living or dead.” “Me!” she exclaimed, and for the first time since she had been there alone with him, a fear of him crossed her mind. “Did you think me dead?” she asked; and he replied: “I dreamed so; dreamed it three times in succession, and so I came to see, and found you surrounded with every luxury that money can procure. Young still and beautiful, a belle and an heiress, your old name of Louise Heyford changed for Georgie Burton, your old self all put out of sight, and you engaged to marry Mr. Leighton. Do you know it was his house I robbed in New York that night?” “No, no; oh, heaven, no! I never dreamed of that; and I must have heard the name too, but forgot it again, everything was so horrible. _Roy’s_ house, and I was to be his wife to-morrow!” She rocked to and fro in her anguish, while the man confronting her began at last to pity her; to wish vaguely that he had staid among the heather hills of Scotland, or at least had not shown himself to her. But anon, another woman’s face arose before his mind, the woman for whom he had risked this interview, and he ceased to care so much for wounding Georgie, though his manner was conciliatory, and he spoke kindly and respectfully as he went on: “I wondered at the engagement if you _did_ know; and wondered too if he had ever heard of me as connected with you.”