“To California, sir. I’m bound to have a last look at all the places I’ve ever been in, though it’ll be a sad day that lands me there. My poor girl and I saw many happy days on that little farm just out of San Francisco. I didn’t own it, we only hired it, for we hadn’t money enough then to pay for a home; but I’d gladly give up every dollar I’ve earned since if I could only have my girl back again,” Jack concluded, with another heart-broken sob. His grief and remorse were painful to witness. His face was almost convulsed, great drops came out upon his forehead, and he trembled with emotion. “I believe I will go to California with you, Jack,” Geoffrey said, after a season of thought. “I do not believe it will be exactly safe for you to go there by yourself, to visit your old home. Suspicion might be aroused immediately, and you would be liable to get into trouble; but no one would think it at all strange if I should return to make inquiries regarding my old nurse.” “Wall, but everybody knew we went off together,” said Jack. “Very true; but if unpleasant questions were asked, I could explain that you escaped to Australia, while I was cared for by friends in New York; all of which would be true,” Geoffrey responded. “Thank ye, sir; ye’re kinder to me than I deserve; but even if I knew they’d snap me up, I reckon I should go. I can never rest till I know where they’ve laid my girl,” Jack returned, with a heavy sigh. “You shall,” Geoffrey answered, “we will find out all there is to know; but I particularly wish to learn if my father ever visited the place after we left. If he did he probably left some address so that information could be found, in case any trace of us was discovered.” Jack appeared to be very grateful to have his path thus smoothed for him, and the next morning the two men left the mining village and proceeded directly to San Francisco. Before leaving, however, Geoffrey had cut several slips from the ivy that grew all about his mother’s grave, and inclosing them wrapped in wet paper, in a small tin box, mailed them to Gladys. “My darling,” he wrote, “if you can coax any of these to live, pray do so, for my sake. I have a particular reason for making the request, which I will explain when I return,” and Gladys had three of them nicely rooted before she returned to Brooklyn, at the end of the season. Geoffrey and his companion reached the small town, near which Jack Henly had once lived, and only a few miles from San Francisco, about noon one warm August day. They had their dinner, and rested for several hours, then when the day grew cooler, Geoffrey started out alone to visit Jack Henly’s former home, and to try to discover the grave of his wife.