"'He arranged that I should meet him the next evening, and go to an old priest in an obscure parish, and be married.
"'I stood long hours on a corner, half dead with fear, that night, for a lover that never came. He's dead now, got run over in Oakland yard, that very night, as he was running away from me, and as I waited and shivered under the stars and the fire of my own conscience.'
"'Did he stand on one track, to get out of the way of another train, and get struck?' I asked.
"'Yes,' looking at me close.
"'Did he have on a false moustache, and a good deal of money and securities in a satchel, and everybody think at first he was a burglar?'
"'Yes; but how did you know that?'
"'Because, I killed him.'
"'You?'
"'Yes; I ran an engine over him, couldn't make him hear or see me. He was the first man I ever killed; strange he should be this particular man.'
"'It's fate,' said the woman, rocking slowly back and forth, 'it's fate, but it seems as though I like you better now that you were my avenger. That accident drove revenge out of my heart, caused me to let him be forgotten, and to live for my child. I have lived for her. I live to-day for her and I will continue to live for her.'