I came to the cottage with two objects. First, to see the dear one, if I could, once more — but only to see her — not to speak to her or let her know that I was near. The other object, to elude pursuit and to be lost. Do not blame the mother for her share. The assistance that she rendered me, she rendered on my strongest assurance that it was for the dear one's good. You remember her dead child. The men's consent I bought, but her help was freely given.

"'I came.' That was written," said my companion, "when she rested there. It bears out what I made of it. I was right."

The next was written at another time:

I have wandered a long distance, and for many hours, and I know that I must soon die. These streets! I have no