arranged that I should meet him the next evening, and go to an old
priest in an obscure parish, and be married.

"'I stood long hours on a corner, half dead with fear, that night, for a
lover that never came. He's dead now, got run over in Oakland yard, that
very night, as he was running away from me, and as I waited and shivered
under the stars and the fire of my own conscience.'

"'Did he stand on one track, to get out of the way of another train, and
get struck?' I asked.

"'Yes,' looking at me close.

"'Did he have on a false moustache, and a good deal of money and
securities in a satchel, and everybody think at first he was a burglar?'

"'Yes; but how did you know that?'

"'Because, I killed him.'

"'You?'

"'Yes; I ran an engine over him, couldn't make him hear or see me. He
was the first man I ever killed; strange he should be _this_ particular
man.'

"'It's fate,' said the woman, rocking slowly back and forth, 'it's fate,
but it seems as though I like you better now that you were my avenger.
That accident drove revenge out of my heart, caused me to let _him_ be
forgotten, and to live for my child. I have lived for her. I live to-day
for her and I will continue to live for her.'

"'My disgrace killed my mother and ruined my father. I swore I would be
an honest woman, and I sought employment to earn a living for my babe
and myself, but every avenue was closed to me. I washed and scrubbed
while I was able to teach music splendidly, but I could get no pupils. I
made shirts for a pittance and daily refused, to me, fortunes for
dishonor. I have gone hungry and almost naked to pay for my baby's
board, but I was hunted down at last.

"'One day, after many rebuffs in seeking employment, I went to the home
of a sister of my child's father, and took the baby, told her who I was
and asked her to help me to a chance to work. The good woman scarcely
looked at me or the child; she said that had it not been for such as I,
poor Charles would have been alive; his blood was on my head; I ought
to ask God to wash my blood-stained hands.

"'I went away from that house with my mind made up what to do. I would
put my child in honest hands, and chain myself to the stake to suffer
everlasting damnation for her sweet sake.

"'She is in the Mission San Antonio now, between three and four, a
perfect little princess, she looks like me, and grows, oh, so lovely! If
you could see her, you'd love her.

"'I can't go to see he