“I never bought any roses of you in New York, Margery,” he said, kindly. “I have never seen you until now since I was a small boy of five years.” The woman looked up at him amazed. Geoffrey smiled frankly into her upturned face. “The young man whom you met was a Mr. Everet Mapleson; we were in college together, and we look so much alike that we are often mistaken for each other,” he explained. “Ah! dearie, my heart is lighter now you’ve told me this,” Margery said, with a long-drawn sigh. “I was cruelly hurt when I thought you wouldn’t own me, and I was so sure, too, that you could tell me something about Jack—can’t you tell me where he is? Where, where have you been all these years, Master Geoffrey. Ah, I feared that cruel blow that Jack gave you had killed you, and I’d never see you again; but poor man! he’d never have lifted his hand against you if he’d been himself. Heaven pity him! wherever he is, if he’s living at all.” She had rambled on in this disconnected way without even waiting for a reply to any of her questions, and Geoffrey felt the tears rise to his eyes, as he realized something of the burden that lay so heavy on her heart, and had made the long, long years so dreary and oppressive to her. He dismounted from his horse, and taking her by the arm, said, gently: “Come back to the rock, Margery, where you were sitting, and I will tell you all you wish to know. It is a long story, and you will be weary with standing.” She looked up appealingly. “One word, Master Geoffrey. Jack——” Her trembling lips refused to utter another word, and the young man thought he might as well tell her at once about her husband and set her heart at rest. “Jack is living and well, and—within a mile of you at this very moment,” he said, in a cheerful tone. “Oh, dearie! Heaven reward you for those blessed words,” Margery murmured; then her head sank upon her breast, and, tottering weakly forward, she dropped upon the rock where Geoffrey had first seen her, and fell to sobbing like a tired child. Geoffrey waited until she had grown somewhat calmer, and then told her, as briefly as he could, something of his own and Jack’s history during the last eighteen years. She never interrupted him during the recital, but seemed to drink in every word, as one perishing from thirst would drink in pure, life-giving water. When at last he had told her all, she lifted her face, and, while she wiped the streaming tears from her eyes, she exclaimed: “Ah! Master Geoffrey, I feel almost as if I was drawing nigh to heaven, after all the waiting, the wandering, the loneliness, and misery, to find my Jack again, and know that he has been true to his love for me all the time. Poor fellow! his fate has been harder than mine, after all, for he’s had to carry a burden of guilt with him; but it is all over now, thank Heaven! You will take me straight to him?” she concluded, eagerly.