xistence. Such a thing is hard, is it not? But of
her I will not speak; she is dead, poor woman; I hope she never suffered
as have I. The people by whom I was brought up I looked upon as my
parents. They had been paid to adopt me. When I discovered that, I was
old enough to make my own living. With that view I came to this country.
New York was different then. I should not care to land here now and
attempt to make a fortune without a penny to start with. But it is
true, I was young. I was a fair linguist, a rarity in those days, and it
was not long before I found a situation. When I had a little money put
by, I learned of an opening in Boston, and started in business there for
myself. Shortly after I became acquainted with a girl. She was very
beautiful; more so, I thought, than anyone I had ever seen. So soon as I
was in a position to marry she became my wife. We lived together for
three years. During that time I thought her affection as unwavering as
my own. She was an excellent musician, and much sought after, not alone
because of her talent, but because of her beauty as well. The
entertainments which she frequented I was often unable to attend. But I
was glad to have her go without me. I was proud of the admiration which
she aroused. One evening she left me, and did not return. For some time
her disappearance was unexplained. Ultimately I discovered that she was
in New York. She had deserted me for another man. I followed her and
obtained a divorce. Afterwards the man deserted her as she had deserted
me. Then she went abroad. Of her life there I can only judge by hearsay.
I believe that at one time she figured in an opera troupe. Now and then
she wrote, asking for money; but latterly she has ceased. It is a
surprise to me that she calls herself by my name. Perhaps she has done
so because she heard that I had prospered. The reflection of that
prosperity may have been of advantage to her. That, however, can easily
be stopped. But I am sorry, Eden, that you should have learned of it.
Even the children do not know; they think her dead. When she deserted
me, I left them with their grand-parents. In so doing I sought to
separate myself from everything connected with her, and I stipulated
that I would provide for their maintenance on condition that they were
kept in ignorance of their mother's existence and of mine. Some years
ago, however, first the grandfather, then the grandmother, died. I was
obliged to appear more promi