" It would seem
that he had changed his name and begun anew in the world--or had tried
to. How far he had succeeded I am unable to say.
I could not help feeling puzzled as well as depressed. The proper course
under such circumstances is not wholly clear. Had his former friends a
right to know what I had discovered? Right or wrong, what I decided on
was to say nothing so long as the old man lived. Three years afterwards
I wrote to a person whose acquaintance I had made at Three Rivers,
asking him whether an old American, residing at a place I described,
were still living, and received a reply saying that he was and
apparently in good health. But two years later this same Canadian
acquaintance, remembering my inquiry, wrote to say that the old man I
had once asked about had just died, but that his widow was still living
at their little farm and getting along as well as could be expected.
Then one day as the old Squire and I were driving home from a grange
meeting I told him what I had learned five years before concerning the
fate of his old friend. It was news to him, and yet he did not appear to
be wholly surprised.
"I don't know, sir, whether I have done right or not, keeping this from
you so long," I said after a moment of silence.
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