“Has she been informed that the young man is found?” inquired Mrs. Delano.

“No,” replied Mr. King.  “It occurred very near the time of Gerald’s death; and we deem it unkind to disturb her mind about it for some months to come.”

* * * * *

The next week, Mr. and Mrs. King started for New York, and thence proceeded to New Rochelle.  Following the directions they had received, they hired a carriage at the steamboat-landing, to convey them to a farm-house a few miles distant.  As they approached the designated place, they saw a slender man, in drab-colored clothes, lowering a bucket into the well.  Mr. King alighted, and inquired, “Is this Mr. Houseman’s farm, sir?”

“My name is Joseph Houseman,” replied the Quaker.  “I am usually called Friend Joseph.”

Mr. King returned to the carriage, and saying, “This is the place,” he assisted his lady to alight.  Returning to the farmer, he said:  “We have come to ask you about a young colored woman, named Henriet Falkner.  Her husband rendered service to a dear young friend of ours in the army, and we would be glad to repay the obligation by kindness to her.”

“Walk in,” said the Quaker.  He showed them into a neat, plainly furnished parlor.  “Where art thou from?” he inquired.

“From Boston,” was the reply.

“What is thy name?”

“Mr. King.”

“All men are called Mister,” rejoined the Quaker.  “What is thy given name?”

“My name is Alfred Royal King; and this is my wife, Rosa King.”

“Hast thou brought a letter from the woman’s husband?” inquired Friend Joseph.

“No,” replied Mr. King.  “I saw George Falkner in Washington, a fortnight ago, when I went to seek the body of our young friend; but I did not then think of coming here.  If you doubt me, you can write to William Lloyd Garrison or Wendell Phillips, and inquire of them whether Alfred R. King is capable of deceiving.”

“I like thy countenance, Friend Alfred, and I think thou art honest,” rejoined the Quaker; “but where colored people are concerned, I have known very polite and fair-spoken men to tell falsehoods.”

Mr. King smiled as he answered:  “I commend your caution, Friend Joseph.  I see how it is.  You suspect we may be slaveholders in disguise.  But slaveholders are just now too busy seeking to destroy this Republic to have any time to hunt fugitives; and when they have more leisure, my opinion is they will find that occupation gone.”

“I should have more hope of that,” replied the farmer, “if there was not so much pro-slavery here at the North.  And thee knows that the generals of the United States are continually sending back fugitive slaves to bleed under the lash of their taskmasters.”

“I honor your scruples, Friend Joseph,” responded Mr. King; “and that they may be completely removed, we will wait at the Metropolitan in New York until you have received letters from Mr. Garrison and Mr. Phillips.  And lest you should think I may have assumed the name of another, I will give you these to enclose in your letter.”  He opened his pocket-book and took out two photographs.