Annie Dale’s grave, and the house where she had lived, were pointed out to Geoffrey, and he went by himself to visit them.
He came to the dismantled home first, and walked round and round it, as Everet Mapleson had done, peering in through the windows, noting the position of the rooms, and wondering if he should ever know if this had really been the home of his mother, and under what circumstances she had lived there; whether she had been a loved and honored wife, or whether her early death had been caused by some secret sorrow that had broken her heart.
He knew there had been another visitor there before him—although he had been told nothing regarding the stranger’s visit of the week previous—for the broken step and the trampled grass gave ample evidence of that fact.
He wondered if it could have been the man who had so suddenly fled from Saratoga after meeting him, who had, perhaps, been driven there by sorrow and remorse to look once more upon the ruin he had wrought.
He grew more and more fearful that the story of his birth must be a sorrowful one, for it was evident that no one bearing the name of William Dale had ever resided in Fort Union.
He would not have been able to trace the man beyond that point at all, but for his accidental meeting with the old miner, who had worked in the mines where he had owned an interest, and thus been able to direct him to this remote village.
If William Dale had never lived at Fort Union, why had he registered from that place? If he was now living at Fort Union, and his name was not William Dale, why had he used that address again after the lapse of so many years?
There was something very mysterious about the whole matter, and it began to seem like a hopeless puzzle to the young man.
He finally left the house and bent his steps toward that small inclosure where, in the gathering dusk, he could just see the pure white head-stone gleaming among the vines that grew all around it.
He entered the place and approached the spot, noting that here, too, there were signs of a recent visitor, and knelt down to read the name that had been inscribed upon the spotless marble.