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A Strange Disappearance

"Would to God you were right; but the long golden braids! Such hair as hers I
never saw on anyone before."
"Mr. Blake is right," I broke in, for I could not endure this scene any longer. "The
woman taken out of the East river to-day has been both seen and spoken to by
him and that not long since. He should know if it is his wife."
"And isn't it?"
"No, a thousand times no; the girl was a perfect stranger."
The assurance seemed to lift a leaden weight from her heart. "O thank God," she
murmured dropping with an irresistible impulse on her knees. Then with a
sudden return of her old tremble, "But I was only to reveal her secret in case of
her death! What have I done, O what have I done! Her only hope lay in my
Mr. Blake leaning heavily on the table before him, looked in her face.
"Mrs. Daniels," said he, "I love my wife; her hope now lies in me."
She leaped to her feet with a joyous bound. "You love her? O thank God!" she
again reiterated but this time in a low murmur to her self. "Thank God!" and
weeping with unrestrained joy, she drew back into a corner.
Of course after that, all that remained for us to do was to lay our heads together
and consult as to the best method of renewing our search after the unhappy girl,
now rendered of double interest to us by the facts with which we had just been
made acquainted. That she had been forced away from the roof that sheltered
her by the power of her father and brother was of course no longer open to
doubt. To discover them, therefore, meant to recover her. Do you wonder, then,
that from the moment we left Mr. Blake's house, the capture of that brace of
thieves became the leading purpose of our two lives?