oughfares having strange titles, occupied the district where his
counting-house had stood, and even obliterated its site; equally strange
names were upon the shops and warehouses. In his four years' wanderings
he had scarcely found a place as unfamiliar. He had trusted to the
great change in his own appearance--the full beard that he wore and the
tanning of a tropical sun--to prevent recognition; but the precaution
was unnecessary, there were none to recognize him in the new faces which
were the only ones he saw in the transformed city. A cautious allusion
to the past which he had made on the boat to a fellow passenger had
brought only the surprised rejoinder, "Oh, that must have been before
the big fire," as if it was an historic epoch. There was something of
pain even in this assured security of his loneliness. His obliteration
was complete.

For the late Mr. Farendell had suffered some change of mind with his
other mutations. He had been singularly lucky. The schooner in which he
had escaped brought him to Acapulco, where, as a returning Californian,
and a presumably successful one, his services and experience were
eagerly sought by an English party engaged in developing certain disused
Mexican mines. As the post, however, was perilously near the route
of regular emigration, as soon as he had gained a sufficient sum he
embarked with some goods to Callao, where he presently established
himself in business, resuming his REAL name--the unambitious but
indistinctive one of "Smith." It is highly probable that this prudential
act was also his first step towards rectitude. For whether the change
was a question of moral ethics, or merely a superstitious essay in luck,
he was thereafter strictly honest in business. He became prosperous.
He had been sustained in his flight by the intention that, if he
were successful elsewhere, he would endeavor to communicate with his
abandoned fiancee, and ask her to join him, and share not his name but
fortune in exile. But as he grew rich, the difficulties of carrying out
this intention became more apparent; he was by no means certain of her
loyalty surviving the deceit he had practiced and the revelation he
would have to make; he was doubtful of the success of any story which
at other times he would have glibly invented to take the place of truth.
Already several months had elapsed since his supposed death; could he
expect her to be less accessible to premature advances now than when
she