hoped it might be he. That was why I was so deeply interested. It is not such a common name, you know."
I made some answer, and she sat there silently, her face turned now toward the fire in the grate. The profile held me in fascination, as I wondered what these seemingly innocent questions could signify. Were they innocently asked? or did the girl secretly suspect my identity, and my purpose? If she had recognized me as Tom Wyatt, and was pretending not, merely to learn my object, then surely she had already proven herself a remarkable actress. No expression of eye, or voice, led me to believe this. The questions were, indeed, natural enough—the only strange feature the coincident of her previous brief acquaintance with the man whom I had recklessly chosen to impersonate. Anyhow, let the truth be what it may, there was no other course left for me, but to keep on with the deception. I was in the heart of the enemy's country, in disguise, my life forfeit in case of discovery, and the time had not come when I could entrust her with so dangerous a secret.
The wind rattled the blinds, and the rain beat heavily against the side of the house. The thought of venturing out into the storm, not knowing where I could seek shelter, was not an alluring one. Nor
