"If I had known you were living, Susan! But there was every reason to
suppose you and the child were dead and gone. I took every possible step
to find you--travelled--advertised. My opinion at last was that you
had started for some colony with that man, and had been drowned on your
voyage. Why did you keep silent like this?"

"O Michael! because of him--what other reason could there be? I thought
I owed him faithfulness to the end of one of our lives--foolishly
I believed there was something solemn and binding in the bargain; I
thought that even in honour I dared not desert him when he had paid so
much for me in good faith. I meet you now only as his widow--I consider
myself that, and that I have no claim upon you. Had he not died I should
never have come--never! Of that you may be sure."

"Ts-s-s! How could you be so simple?"

"I don't know. Yet it would have been very wicked--if I had not thought
like that!" said Susan, almost crying.

"Yes--yes--so it would. It is only that which makes me feel 'ee an
innocent woman. But--to lead me into this!"

"What, Michael?" she asked, alarmed.

"Why, this difficulty about our living together again, and
Elizabeth-Jane. She cannot be told all--she would so despise us both
that--I could not bear it!"

"That was why she was brought up in ignorance of you. I could not bear