I regret," he added, with a perfunctory cough, "that poor Barker is dead.

He was not such an exemplary husband as you are, my dear Collinson, and I fear was not all that Mrs.Barker could have wished; enough that he succumbed from various excesses, and did not leave me Mrs.Barker's present address.
But she has a young friend, a ward, living at the convent of Santa Luisa, whose name is Miss Rivers, who can put you in communication with her.

Now, one thing more: I can understand your feelings, and that you would wish at once to satisfy your mind.

It is not, perhaps, to my interest nor the interest of my party to advise you, but," he continued, glancing around him, "you have an admirably secluded position here, on the edge of the trail, and if you are missing from your post to-morrow morning, I shall respect your feelings, trust to your honor to keep this secret, and--consider it useless to pursue you!" There was neither shame nor pity in his heart, as the deceived man turned towards him with tremulous eagerness, and grasped his hand in silent gratitude.

But the old rage and fear returned, as Collinson said gravely:-- "You kinder put a new life inter me, Mr.Chivers, and I wish I had yer gift o' speech to tell ye so.