"Can I write to this good man?" asked Caroline. "I do long to thank
him."
"O yes. I wrote to him only the day before yesterday."
There was but little more of the narrative. "At night he borrowed a
waggon, and drove me to a station in time to take the early train for
the north-east, supplying me with means for the journey, and giving
me a letter to a family relation of his, in New York State. I was
most kindly sheltered there for a few days while I looked out for
advertisements. I found, however, that I must change my name, for
the history of the Burkeville affair was copied into all the papers,
and there were warnings against the two impostors, giving my maiden
name likewise, as that in which my Zurich diploma had been made out.
This cut me off from all medical employment, and I had to think what
else I could do, not that I cared much what became of me. Seeing a
notice that an assistant was wanted to colour and finish photographs,
I thought my drawing, though only schoolroom work, might serve. I
applied, showed specimens, and was thought satisfactory. I sent my
address to Mr. Field, who had promised to let me know in case my
husband made any attempt to trace me, or if I could find my way back
to him, but up to this time I have heard absolutely nothing.
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