"What! Georgia Darrell—little Georgia, my brother's wife!" he cried, eagerly.
Her eyes answered him.
"Is it possible? Why, Georgia, how little I expected to meet you here!" he said, holding out his hand, with a smile of mingled remorse and pleasure. "How came you here?"
"I do not know. Chance—Providence—something sent me here to-night."
"I would never have known you, it is so long since we met."
"Not so long as you think," she said, with one of her old rare smiles.
"No! How is that?"
"Do you remember the person you met on a country road, one night about a month ago, and asked the way to Widow O'Neil's?"
"Yes."
"I was that person."