the privacy she needed, and all the chance to cry that was good for her.

Then the old pair left for New York--and England.

Sally had also had a chance to do another thing. That was, to make up

her mind that life was not worth living upon the present terms. If she

must give up her impostor and die; doubtless she must submit; but might

she not lay her whole case before some disinterested person, first, and

see if there wasn't perhaps some saving way out of the matter? She

turned this idea over in her mind a good deal. In her first visit with

Hawkins after her parents were gone, the talk fell upon Tracy, and she

was impelled to set her case before the statesman and take his counsel.

So she poured out her heart, and he listened with painful solicitude.

She concluded, pleadingly, with--

Don't tell me he is an impostor. I suppose he is, but doesn't it look

to you as if he isn't? You are cool, you know, and outside; and so,

maybe it can look to you as if he isn't one, when it can't to me.

Doesn't it look to you as if he isn't? Couldn't you--can't it look to

you that way--for--for my sake?"

The poor man was troubled, but he felt obliged to keep in the

neighborhood of the truth. He fought around the present detail a little

while, then gave it up and said he couldn't really see his way to

clearing Tracy.

"No," he said, "the truth is, he's an impostor."

274

The American Claimant