rden's wife paused before a large door with solid iron panels,
and rang a bell. Some one on the other side asked:

"What is the order? Who rang?"

"Mrs. Singleton; I want to get into the chapel. Let me out, Jasper."

The door swung slowly back, and the guard touched his hat respectfully.

Through an open arcade, where the sunlight streamed, Mrs. Singleton led
her companion; then up a short flight of stone steps, and they found
themselves in a long room, with an altar railing and pulpit at one end,
and rows of wooden benches crossing the floor from wall to wall. Even
here, the narrow windows were iron barred, but sunshine and the sweet,
pure breath of the outside world entered freely. Within the altar
railing, and at the right of the reading desk where a Bible lay, stood
a cabinet organ. Leaving the prisoner to walk up and down the aisle,
Mrs. Singleton opened the organ, drew out the stops, and after waiting
a few moments, began to play.

At first, only a solemn prelude rolled its waves of harmony through the
peaceful sunny room, but soon the strains of the beautiful Motet "Cast
thy burden on the Lord," swelled like the voice of some divine
consoler. Watching the stately figure of the prisoner who wandered to
and fro, the warden's wife noticed that like a magnet the music drew
her nearer and nearer each time she approached the chancel, and at last
she stood with one hand on the railing. The beautiful face, sharpened
and drawn by mental agony, was piteously wan save where two scarlet
spots burned on her cheeks, and the rigid lips were gray as some
granite Statue's, but the eyes glowed with a strange splendor that
almost transfigured her countenance.

On and on glided the soft, subtle variations of the Motet, and
gradually the strained expression of the shining eyes relaxed, as if
the soul of the listener were drifting back from a far-off realm; the
white lids quivered, the stern lines of the pale lips unbent. At that
moment, the face of her father seemed floating on the sunbeams that
gilded the pulpit, and the tones of her mother's voice rang in her
ears. The terrible tension of many days and nights of torture gave way
suddenly, like a silver thread long taut, which snaps with one last
vibration. She raised her hands:

"My God! Why hast Thou forsaken me?"

The cry ended in a wail. Into her burning eyes merciful tears rushed,
and sinking on her knees she rested against the railing, shaken by a
storm of passionate