The youth shook his head. “Ah! that is the very thing that puzzles me,” he said, dubiously. “I can not tell where I have seen him, nor when. I only know that it is so.” Margery had recovered herself, though traces of her recent fright were still visible. “Pshaw!” she cried, trying to simulate contempt. “It’s all in your imagination, boy. Just think of it; here he has been these seven or eight years, out and in before you, and now, when he is known of all men for what he is, and for nothing else, you begin to fancy that he is somebody else! It is ridiculous! You ought to be ashamed of such petty trifling.” “All right,” returned Percy, getting up from the table as he spoke. “Let it pass. Only, my dear mother, I would like to correct you in one thing. I am not just beginning to fancy the thing I have mentioned. No, no: far from it. I can well remember the first time I ever set eyes on him and heard him speak--it was on board the brig--the same belief or impression possessed me. Yes, even then I could have sworn that he had been known to me in a totally different guise, and the impression has gone on gaining strength from that time. But I shall know one of these days. Something tells me it will be revealed to me. I can wait.” Again the woman started; and the look she darted upon her son was not pleasant to see; but his back was turned toward her, and he did not catch it. Without further remark, our hero set about his preparations for departure. The garb he now wore was a neat, well-fitting seaman’s dress, of fine blue cloth, with an ordinary Scotch cap on his head. Having donned his cap, and put a flask of wine in his pocket, he threw a serviceable peacoat over his left arm, and was ready to set forth. He asked his mother if she had any errand to send to Rodney, or any other of the crew. She had none. And then, as was his custom, he bade her a pleasant “good-morning,” by way of adieu, and departed. If Percy could have looked back upon his mother, as he walked swiftly away he would have seen that she was watching him with an expression of countenance far from pleasant or satisfactory. If the words she spoke to herself could have reached his ears, he would have heard her mutter with marked anxiety: “Mercy! He must be warned! I must put him on guard at once. If Percy is bent upon discovering his secret, who shall say that he may not do it? He is sharp; and he can be stubborn. Heavens and earth! If he should discover! But he must not! Ralph must look to himself. There can be no danger if we are both careful. I know I can be so; and I think he will be.” But the youth heard not; and it may have been well that ignorance in that direction was his portion. He was bound for the landing where we saw him step from his skiff to the shore on the previous afternoon. It was distant half a mile from the cottage, the path lying through a deep wood most of the way.