We lived in a small cottage, the walls of which were covered with roses and flowering vines. The few acres of land which belonged to us were rich in fruit-trees and bushes, which, with our flower and kitchen gardens, kept us busy pretty well all the day. What acquaintances we had--they were not many--were drawn from the ranks of the poor, by whom Ellen was loved as few women are. A quiet, happy life--if but the past could have been blotted out! I had not concealed my story from Ellen's knowledge, but before it was told I knew that I had won her love, and she knew that to live without her would be worse than death to me. For me she sacrificed herself, and I, in the selfishness of my heart, accepted the sacrifice only too gladly and willingly. Questioning my conscience I did not reproach myself, though sometimes I trembled for Ellen; and she, I am sure, never for one moment reproached me, and did not tremble for herself. If a cloud was on my brow she chased it away with tender words. Man's law prevented me from giving her my name; God's law joined us and made us one. The beauty of her character awoke all that was good within me; she was to me like the sun and dew to the opening flower. I was guilty of one act of duplicity, and I bitterly repented it. I did not disclose to her my true name, but retained that by which I had introduced myself to her. She knew me only as John Fletcher. Twelve happy months, and I had almost taught myself to forget. One morning Ellen whispered to me a secret which filled me with joy and fear. Into her heart fear did not enter; it was pulsing with the joy of motherhood; in a few months we should have a child. I walked alone to the seashore deep in thought. My sense of security was disturbed; I had now again to reckon with the world. A father owes a duty to his child which the world will not allow him to forget. And the mother!--yes, it was of Ellen I chiefly thought, and it was to her, presently, that my thoughts were chiefly directed. For, looking up, I saw within a dozen yards of me a man whose mocking eyes were following my movements. Though there was a change in his appearance I knew him immediately, and I caught my breath in sudden alarm. The man was Maxwell. The change I had observed was in his circumstances. His shabby clothes and hat, his boots down at heel, his unshaven face, denoted that he had not prospered lately. But there was a light in his face as our eyes met resembling that of one upon whom had unexpectedly fallen a stroke of good fortune.