her, and looked
at the other girl with a softened expression.

"I'm afraid you won't be much interested in me," she replied, "but I
need a friend--indeed I need a friend, Miss Louise!"

"I'm sure you do."

"At first I thought I could do without one. I felt I must stand alone,
and let no one suspect. But--I'm getting puzzled and bewildered, and I
don't know what to do next."

"Of course not. Tell me about it, dear."

"I can't; for I don't know, myself." She leaned forward in her chair and
added, in a whisper: "I don't even know who I am! But that man," with a
shudder, "tried to trap me. He said he knew Eliza Parsons, and there is
no Eliza Parsons. It's a name I--I invented."

"I think I understand," said Louise, with a little nod. "You had to have
a name, so you took that one."

"Yes. I don't know why I am telling you this. I've tried to hide it all
so carefully. And perhaps I'm wrong in letting this thing worry me. In
the main, I've been very happy and content, lately; and--I have a
feeling I was not happy before--before--"

"Before what, dear?"

The girl looked at her steadily and her face grew red.

"Before I lost my memory."

For a few moments they sat silently regarding one another, the
expressive features of Louise showing a silent sympathy.

"Have you really lost your memory?" she asked.

"Absolutely. Think of it! I wakened one morning lying by the roadside,
and shivering with cold. I had on a simple gray dress, with no hat. The
sun was just rising, and no one was near. I examined myself with wonder,
for I had no idea who I was, or how I came there. There was no money in
my pocket, and I had no jewels. To keep warm I began walking along the
road. The scenery was all new to me; so far as I knew I had never been
in the place before.

"The birds were singing and the cows mooed in the meadow. I tried to
sing, too, for my heart was light and gay and I was happy. By and bye I
came to a town; but no one seemed to be awakened because it was yet so
early. As I walked down the street I saw smoke coming from one of the
chimneys, and it suddenly occurred to me that I was hungry. I entered
the yard and went around to the back door. A woman was working in the
kitchen and I laughed joyfully and wished her a good morning. She was
not very pleasant, but it did me good to talk with her; I liked to hear
my own voice and it pleased me to be able to talk easily and well. She
grudgingly gave me something to eat and t