"I saw _him_ come--come like a thief in the night, calling softly to her; whispering softly, with his arms about her. See"--he stretched out his arms and shook them stiff and hard before Comethup--"I am strong; much labour has made me strong. I wish now that I had caught him by his white throat and turned his smiling face up to the stars and held him so until he died." "For shame!" cried Comethup. "Why should you kill him? She loved him, and they are married." "Yes, it was because I thought she loved him that I hesitated," whispered the old man, dropping his hands to his sides. "And yet she came always as though with her love there was half a fear of him, as though he smiled and beckoned to her and drew her against her will. He didn't love her, and she will come back here; she will be glad to come back. And so I watch for her night after night." Without any further words he slipped away again among the trees and was soon lost to sight. Comethup hesitated a moment, but feeling it would be useless to go after him or to argue further with him, he went out of the garden and took his way back to the captain's. Another thought had occurred to him in regard to the old house, and he mentioned the matter to the captain that night as they sat together. "By the way, sir," he said, "do you remember a woman--a Mrs. Dawson, I think--who used to live with--with 'Linda at her father's old house! What has become of her? I noticed to-night," he added, with what carelessness he might, "that the place appears to be shut up and empty; I happened to pass that way." The captain looked at him keenly and sympathetically for a moment. "She has gone away," he said at last. "She came to me immediately before leaving here; she seemed to know no one in the place except myself, and she had a vague idea that I had been kind to 'Linda in some way, and that it was necessary for her to thank me. In her agitation she let fall a remark which led me to question her; and I heard for the first time her melancholy history. As we are all interested, my dear boy, in anything that touches our little friend 'Linda, you might as well know it; although, for that matter, we are neither of us likely to see the woman again, and it will be better--in fact, it was her wish--that 'Linda should know nothing about it. It seems that this woman, who was known merely as Mrs. Dawson, was really 'Linda's mother." "Her mother!" echoed Comethup. "But why was the matter kept secret, and why did she masquerade under another name and in the capacity of a dependent?"