The involuntary and sympathetic caress comforted him more than any words could have done, for it seemed to say, no matter what lay away back among those early years before she knew him, nothing could change her love for him, and he would always be the same to her. “I wish I could know the story of my mother’s life,” Geoffrey continued, with a sigh, while a moisture gathered in his eyes. “Poor woman! I am afraid that her fate must have been a sorrowful one. Darling, I believe I shall go to New Mexico and see what I can learn about this man who registered from Fort Union.” “Oh, Geoff, I fear it will only be chasing a ‘will-o’-the-whisp!’” Gladys said, looking distressed. “I cannot help it. I must go. I shall be wretched and good for nothing until I learn all there is to know. I am going now to tell Uncle August about it.” He sought Mr. Huntress, and laid the whole matter before him, making known his desire, too, to go to New Mexico to see if he could gain any further clew. Mr. Huntress sympathized heartily with him, and favored the project. He could well understand how restless and miserable Geoffrey would be until he had used every possible means to discover his parentage. So he did all that he could to hasten and facilitate his departure, and even offered to accompany him; but Geoffrey frankly told him that he preferred to go alone. He felt that if he must learn that any stigma rested on his birth, he could not bear to have any one, not even his kind friend, witness the struggle that must come with the knowledge. He could fight it best by himself. He left the next day but one, but owing to delays both by rail and coach, he did not reach Fort Union until ten days later. He made inquiries here for a man named William Dale, but for several days could gain no intelligence whatever regarding such a person. At last he fell in with an old miner, by the merest accident, who had known a man by that name many years previous, and who directed him to that mining village already described. Thither Geoffrey hastened at once, reaching it one evening just at sundown, and only a week after Everet Mapleson’s visit to the same place. Here he learned something of Annie Dale’s story, for Everet’s inquiries and interest in the same person had revived memories regarding that sad romance, and it had become a common theme since. Annie Dale’s grave, and the house where she had lived, were pointed out to Geoffrey, and he went by himself to visit them. He came to the dismantled home first, and walked round and round it, as Everet Mapleson had done, peering in through the windows, noting the position of the rooms, and wondering if he should ever know if this had really been the home of his mother, and under what circumstances she had lived there; whether she had been a loved and honored wife, or whether her early death had been caused by some secret sorrow that had broken her heart.