a sun worshipper. No, we can move the table, and we
can then see each other better."

This done, she said, still very softly, "And now tell me what it is all
about. Why have you come here?"

"Tell me first," said my father, "what befell you after I had been taken
away. Why did you not send me word when you found what had happened? or
come after me? You know I should have married you at once, unless they
bound me in fetters."

"I know you would; but you remember Mrs. Humdrum? Yes, I see you do. I
told her everything; it was she who saved me. We thought of you, but she
saw that it would not do. As I was to marry Mr. Strong, the more you
were lost sight of the better, but with George ever with me I have not
been able to forget you. I might have been very happy with you, but I
could not have been happier than I have been ever since that short
dreadful time was over. George must tell you the rest. I cannot do so.
All is well. I love my husband with my whole heart and soul, and he
loves me with his. As between him and me, he knows everything; George is
his son, not yours; we have settled it so, though we both know otherwise;
as between you and me, for this one hour, here, there is no use in
pretending that you are not George's father. I have said all I need say.
Now, tell me what I asked you--Why are you here?"

"I fear," said my father, set at rest by the sweetness of Yram's voice
and manner--he told me he had never seen any one to compare with her
except my mother--"I fear, to do as much harm now as I did before, and
with as little wish to do any harm at all."

He then told her all that the reader knows, and explained how he had
thought he could have gone about the country as a peasant, and seen how
she herself had fared, without her, or any one, even suspecting that he
was in the country.

"You say your wife is dead, and that she left you with a son--is he like
George?"

"In mind and disposition, wonderfully; in appearance, no; he is dark and
takes after his mother, and though he is handsome, he is not so
good-looking as George."

"No one," said George's mother, "ever was, or ever will be, and he is as
good as he looks."

"I should not have believed you if you had said he was not."

"That is right. I am glad you are proud of him. He irradiates the lives
of every one of us."

"And the mere knowledge that he exists will irradiate the rest of mine."

"Long may it do so. Let us now talk about th