“Yes, and how account for the bottle taking so many years in coming from Tabor Island here?” “It is not absolutely impossible,” responded the reporter. “Could not it have been in the neighborhood of the island for a long time?” “And have remained floating? No,” answered the sailor, “for sooner or later it would have been dashed to pieces on the rocks.” “It would, indeed,” said Smith, thoughtfully. “And, moreover,” continued the sailor, if the paper had been enclosed in the bottle for a long time, it would have been injured by the moisture, whereas, it was not damaged in the least.” The sailor’s remark was just, and, moreover, this paper, recently written, gave the situation of the island with an exactness which implied a knowledge of hydrography, such as a simple sailor could not have. “There is, as I said before, something inexplicable in all this,” said the engineer, “but do not let us urge our new companion to speak, When he wishes it we will be ready to listen.” For several days after this the Unknown neither spoke nor left the plateau. He worked incessantly, digging in the garden apart from the colonists, and at meal times, although he was often asked to join them, he remained alone, eating but a few uncooked vegetables. At night, instead of returning to his room in Granite House, he slept under the trees, or hid himself, if the weather was bad, in some hollow of the rocks. Thus he returned again to that manner of life in which he had lived when he had no other shelter than the forests of Tabor Island, and all endeavor to make him modify this life having proved fruitless, the colonists waited patiently. But the moment came when, irresistibly and as if involuntarily forced from him by his conscience, the terrible avowals were made. At dusk on the evening of the 10th of November, as the colonists were seated in the arbor, the Unknown stood suddenly before them. His eyes glowed, and his whole appearance wore again the savage aspect of former days. He stood there, swayed by some terrible emotion, his teeth chattering like those of a person in a fever. The colonists were astounded. “What was the matter with him? Was the sight of his fellow-creatures unendurable? Had he had enough of this honest life? Was he homesick for his brutish life? One would have thought so, hearing him give utterance to these incoherent phrases:- “Why am I here? By what right did you drag me from my island? Is there any bond between you and me? Do you know who I am—what I have done—why I was there—alone? And who has told you that I was not abandoned—that I was not condemned to die there? Do you know my past? Do you know whether I have not robbed, murdered—if I am not a miserable—a wicked being—fit to live like a wild beast—far from all—say—do you know?” The colonists listened silently to the unhappy creature, from whom these half avowals came in spite of himself. Smith, wishing to soothe him, would have gone to him, but the Unknown drew back quickly.