Two days after this occurrence, the Unknown showed a disposition to enter little by little into the common life. It was evident that he heard, that he understood, but it was equally evident that he manifested a strange disinclination to speak to them. Pencroff, listening at his room, heard these words escape him:— “No! here! I! never!” The sailor reported this to his companions, and Smith said:— “There must be some sad mystery here.” The Unknown had begun to do some little chores, and to work in the garden. When he rested, which was frequent, he seemed entirely self-absorbed; but, on the advice of the engineer, the others respected the silence, which he seemed desirous of keeping. If one of the colonists approached him he recoiled, sobbing as if overcome. Could it be by remorse? or, was it, as Spilett once suggested:— “If he does not speak I believe it is because he has something on his mind too terrible to mention.” Some days later the Unknown was working on the plantation, when, of a sudden, he stopped and let his spade fall, and Smith, who was watching him from a distance, saw that he was weeping again. An irresistible pity drew the engineer to the poor fellow’s side; and, touching his arm lightly, “My friend,” said he. The Unknown tried to look away, and when Smith sought to take his hand he drew back quickly. “My friend,” said Smith, with decision, “I wish you to look at me.” The Unknown obeyed, raising his eyes and regarding the other as one does who is under the influence of magnetism. At first he wished to break away, then his whole expression changed; his eyes flashed, and, unable longer to contain himself, he muttered some incoherent words. Suddenly he crossed his arms, and in a hollow voice:— “Who are you?” he demanded. “Men shipwrecked as you have been,” replied the engineer, greatly moved. “We have brought you here among your kindred.” “My kindred! I have none! “You are among friends—,” “Friends! I! Friends!” cried the Unknown, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh, no! never! Leave me! leave me!” and he rushed to the brink of the plateau overlooking the sea, and stood there, motionless, for a long time. Smith had rejoined his companions and had related to them what had happened. “There certainly is a mystery in this man’s life,” said Spilett, “and it seems as if his first human sensation was remorse.” “I don’t understand what kind of a man we have brought back,” says the sailor. “He has secrets—” “Which we will respect,” answered the engineer, quickly. “If he has committed some fault he has cruelly expiated it, and in our sight it is absolved.” For two hours the Unknown remained upon the shore, evidently under the influence of remembrances which brought back to him all his past, a past which, doubtless, was hateful enough, and the colonists, though keeping watch upon him, respected his desire to be alone.