342 I GO A- FISHING. 



brace that waited him. Their lips met, and they were si- 

 lent while life grew to immortality of joy in that long kiss, 

 and then there was a cold shudder in her frame — a re- 

 laxing of the clasp — a strange fierce smile on her face — 

 and they carried him away. 



" She did not die till two or three weeks later, but she 

 never knew father, mother, or husband again. 



" Who he was no one ever knew, for his lips were sealed, 

 though he watched by her until she died. Then he dis- 

 appeared, and the people for years after that wondered 

 over the story. A stone by her grave rescued her name 

 from infamy, though its story was brief and indefinite. 

 But the villagers readily believed good of one they had 

 loved so well, and it was even whispered by some that 

 the husband of Bessie Laton was a king's son. 



"Years afterward, one ofthose wandering sons of Long 

 Island, who are to be found wherever the traveler has 

 gone, was in the presence of a monarch whose name is 

 known in history and story. That traveler, though but a 

 boy when Bessie Laton died, remembered with perfect 

 clearness the face of her husband, and he now saw it 

 once more. But the position of the tall and stately man, 

 with dark face and downcast eye, standing on the right 

 hand of his sovereign, forbade any attempt to remind him 

 then and there of the tempestuous night when he found 

 his betrayed and deserted wife dying on the shore of 

 Long Island. 



" You may well believe that Peter's story lasted till we 

 reached Easthampton. Now don't let any Long-Islander 

 bodier you by doubting this story, and disputing Peter's 

 facts. It happened somewhere if it did'nt on Long Isl- 

 and, at least Peter. says so, and who can tell how many 

 and what secrets the grave-yards of the old country vil- 



