"I carried her back to her own room, for I did not wish that any one should know her secret. And having done this, I returned once more to where the dead lay, and bent over and kissed the face of the man who had died to save from harm her whom we both loved. "Captain Frint’s death necessitated the breaking up of the shooting party, and Amy and Major Jackson took the opportunity thus afforded of carrying out their plans. They left England in the yacht, and travelled for some time together; but as is nearly always the case under such circumstances, instead of finding happiness, they tasted the fruit of selfishness, which is pain and disgust. It says a good deal for the girl’s cleverness that she was not left entirely destitute in some foreign country; for with a forethought which showed that she had not altogether overlooked the possibility of desertion, she, before leaving, made her lover settle a considerable sum upon her. When he eventually left her in America, less than a year after the elopement, she was consequently fairly well provided for. She had one child, a girl, and not caring to return to England, she settled in New York, and soon afterwards married a clever scoundrel, named Halcome, who, though at the time badly off, succeeded eventually in making a moderate fortune. At his death, Amy returned with her only child to England, where she was soon received into good society." "The man she married was called Halcome," I said. "Was not that the name of the girl we met at Sir James Folker’s dinner on the night of the spiritualistic performance?" "Yes," he replied; "she has always passed as Miss Halcome, for her mother, who is now dead, kept the secret of her birth even from the girl herself." "Was the man whose face I noticed the Major’s legitimate son?" "Yes. After a life of horrible dissipation and vice, Major Jackson, by this time Sir Henry Jackson, died, and his son came into the property. Jackson acknowledged his wife soon after leaving Amy, and the awful life which he led this unfortunate woman has often made my heart bleed. I interfered on the evening to which you refer, partly in the hope of saving her further trouble, and partly because I knew the terrible secret of the young people’s relationship." "Is Miss Halcome like her mother in appearance?" I asked.