"When I met him I did not know they were not living together. He forced me to listen, and he told me how he had taken a mangled corpse from the wreck and buried it as me—how he had firmly believed me dead. Then he bore the news to Marian, and she was prostrated.
"He loved her, but it was long before she consented to marry him. At last, she did so, and they married, both believing me in my grave."
Frank was fascinated by the story.
"Go on," he urged.
"When I appeared both were horrified. When I left them, Marian accused Foster of treachery. She was unreasonable and would listen to nothing he could say. She bade him leave her and never return. He departed, and they have not seen each other since. He does not know she is somewhere in the park, as she must be, else the child would not be here. I did not tell him of the peril of his child, but I resolved to save her and restore her to his arms. I have saved her, but I shall be unable to take her to him. I shall not live to see the light of another day."
"Oh, you may not be so badly injured as all that."
"I am. I am sure of it. I will leave the child in your care. Take her to him, and tell him that I forgive everything. Never again will I rise like one from the dead to come between Foster and Marian."
Frank remained with the man a while longer, and then, telling Fay to stay there that she might keep beyond the reach of bullets, he returned to the mouth of the cave.
"I'm glad ye've come, boy," said Old Rocks. "Ef them pesky varmints ain't gone away entirely, they're up ter mischief, an' I needs yer hyar."
They crouched behind the bowlders and waited, while the minutes slipped away, and the same silence reigned.