Part 22 (2/2)

He took her extended hand and, bending over it, kissed it respectfully.

”It's-it's very strange to see you again, Mr. Tucker,” said Mrs. Bowman, withdrawing her hand in some confusion.

”Mr. Tucker!” said that gentleman, reproachfully; ”it used to be Charlie.”

Mrs. Bowman blushed again, and, with a side glance at the frowning Mr.

Clark, called her visitor's attention to him and introduced them. The gentlemen shook hands stiffly.

”Any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” said Mr. Tucker, with a patronizing air. ”How are you, sir?”

Mr. Clark replied that he was well, and, after some hesitation, said that he hoped he was the same. Mr. Tucker took a chair and, leaning back, stroked his huge mustache and devoured the widow with his eyes.

”Fancy seeing you again!” said the latter, in some embarra.s.sment. ”How did you find me out?”

”It's a long story,” replied the visitor, ”but I always had the idea that we should meet again. Your photograph has been with me all over the world. In the backwoods of Canada, in the bush of Australia, it has been my one comfort and guiding star. If ever I was tempted to do wrong, I used to take your photograph out and look at it.”

”I s'pose you took it out pretty often?” said Mr. Clark, restlessly. ”To look at, I mean,” he added, hastily, as Mrs. Bowman gave him an indignant glance.

”Every day,” said the visitor, solemnly. ”Once when I injured myself out hunting, and was five days without food or drink, it was the only thing that kept me alive.”

Mr. Clark's gibe as to the size of the photograph was lost in Mrs.

Bowman's exclamations of pity.

”I once lived on two ounces of gruel and a cup of milk a day for ten days,” he said, trying to catch the widow's eye. ”After the ten days-”

”When the Indians found me I was delirious,” continued Mr. Tucker, in a hushed voice, ”and when I came to my senses I found that they were calling me 'Amelia.'”

Mr. Clark attempted to relieve the situation by a jocose inquiry as to whether he was wearing a mustache at the time, but Mrs. Bowman frowned him down. He began to whistle under his breath, and Mrs. Bowman promptly said, ”H's.h.!.+”

”But how did you discover me?” she inquired, turning again to the visitor.

”Wandering over the world,” continued Mr. Tucker, ”here to-day and there to-morrow, and unable to settle down anywhere, I returned to North-town about two years ago. Three days since, in a tramcar, I heard your name mentioned. I p.r.i.c.ked up my ears and listened; when I heard that you were free I could hardly contain myself. I got into conversation with the lady and obtained your address, and after travelling fourteen hours here I am.”

”How very extraordinary!” said the widow. ”I wonder who it could have been? Did she mention her name?”

Mr. Tucker shook his head. Inquiries as to the lady's appearance, age, and dress were alike fruitless. ”There was a mist before my eyes,” he explained. ”I couldn't realize it. I couldn't believe in my good fortune.”

”I can't think-” began Mrs. Bowman.

”What does it matter?” inquired Mr. Tucker, softly. ”Here we are together again, with life all before us and the misunderstandings of long ago all forgotten.”

Mr. Clark cleared his throat preparatory to speech, but a peremptory glance from Mrs. Bowman restrained him.

”I thought you were dead,” she said, turning to the smiling Mr. Tucker.

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