Page:The Land Claim.pdf/36

 some questions concerning a man called Thomas Newcome. Do you know him?"

"Yes, sir, I know a man of that name."

"Can you tell me where he is from?"

"He is called an Englishman here, though I believe he's late from somewhere in Connecticut State."

"From Hartford?"

"Yes, sir, that's it, I think."

"And he has a daughter—what is her name?"

"Alicia."

"Where is this man—Thomas Newcome?"

"At present, sir, he is a prisoner in the sheriff's house, 'cause we haven't got a jail built yet. Only two days ago a man was shot-supposed to be by him-can't say yet as it was him-hope it wasn't."

"And it is his daughter, then, who is at your house, very ill, as I have heard. Can I see her, do you think?"

"Waal, I don't know what the doctor that tends her would say about it. Are you a relation of hers?"

"I have-ahem!-a great interest in. her; perhaps can tell her something to her advantage. At all events, it is necessary I should see her personally."

"She wouldn't know you, if you was her best friend. She is clean out of her head about this business of her father."

"It is only necessary I should see her; I will not speak to her at all, nor in any way disturb her. I wish to settle a question of identity."

"Waal, I've nothing to say agin it myself. You can go along home with me now, if you think it will be for her advantage, as you say."

"I only said perhaps," returned the stranger; "I wish to be certain about it."

As they were not then far from the constable's house, a walk of three minutes more brought them to its unpretending portal. The constable soon explained to his wife the errand on which the strange gentleman had come.

"She's not looking like herself," said Mrs. Wyman, as she led the way into a small, neatly-arranged bedroom on the first floor. "She's had to have her hair all cut off to day, and she had such lots of pretty curls it was a great pity to put the scissors to 'em. And then her face is changed, too, and looks peaked and sunk to what it did, and wonderfnlwonderful [sic] for such a little while as she's been sick."

Peaked and thin indeed looked the delicate young face, and more peaked and more ghastly on account of the absence of its former abundant vail of flaxen curls. The sharp outlines were not agreeable, yet the stranger gazed at them long and scrutinizingly.

"This is her hair," said he, touching with his finger the heap of curls Still lying on a table.