ow anything about Montresor, more than this.
And the trouble is something terrible, I know," continued Mimi, "for
it has forced him, at his time of life, to leave his home and become
an exile. And I'm afraid--that is, I imagine--that he himself has
done some wrong in his early life to some Montresor. But I'm afraid
to ask him; and I think now that the sole object of his journey is to
atone for this wrong that he has done. And O, monsieur, now that you
tell your name, now that you say how you have been living here all
your life, I have a fearful suspicion that my papa has been the cause
of it. Montrosor! How strange!"

Mimi was very much agitated; so much so, indeed, that Claude repented
having told her this. But it was now too late to repent, and he could
only try to find some way of remedying the evil.

"Suppose I go to your father," said he, "and tell him who I am, and
all about myself."

"No, no," cried Mimi, earnestly; "do not! O, do not! I would not have
you for worlds. My hope is, that he may give up his search and go
home again, and find peace. There is nothing that you can do. What it
is that troubles him I don't know; but it was something that took
place before you or I were born--many, many years ago. You can do
nothing. You would only trouble him the more. If he has done wrong to
you or yours, you would only make his remorse the worse, for he would
see in you one whom his acts have made an exile."

"O, nonsense!" said Claude, cheerily; "I haven't been anything of the
kind. For my part, I've lived a very happy life indeed; and it's only
of late that I found out my real name. I'll tell you all about it
some time, and then you'll understand better. As to anybody feeling
remorse about my life, that's all nonsense. I consider my life rather
an enviable one thus far."

At this Mimi's agitation left her, and she grew calm again. She
looked at Claude with a glance of deep gratitude, and said,--

"O, how glad, how very glad, I am to hear you say that! Perhaps you
may be able yet to tell that to my dear papa. But still, I do not
wish you to say anything to him at all till I may find some time when
you may do it safely. And you will promise me--will you not?--that
you will keep this a secret from him till he is able to bear it."

"Promise? Of course," said Claude.

She held out her hand, and Claude took it and carried it to his lips.
They had been sitting at the bows of the schooner during this
conversation. N