rden's wife remarked, then, that she had enjoyed his talk in
the chapel.

"I'm a new form o' punishment," said Darrel, soberly.

"But they all enjoy it," she answered.

"I'm not so rough as the ministers. They use fire an' the fume o'
sulphur."

"And the men go to sleep."

"Ay, the cruel master makes a thick hide," said Darrel, quickly.
"So Nature puts her hand between the whip an' the horse, an' sleep
between cruelty an' the congregation."

"Nature is kind," was the remark of the warden.

"An' shows the intent o' the Almighty," said Darrel. "There are
two words. In them are all the sermons."

"And what are they?" the woman asked.

"Fear," Darrel answered thoughtfully; "that is one o' them." He
paused to sip his tea.

"And the other is?"

"Love."

There was half a moment of silence.

"Here's Life to Love an' Death to Fear," the tinker added, draining
his cup. "Ay, madam, fill again--'tis memorable tea."

The woman refilled his cup.

"Many a time I've sat at meat an' thought, O that mine enemy could
taste thy tea! But this, dear lady, this beverage is for a friend."

So the dinner went on, others talking only to encourage the tongue
of Darrel. Trove, well as he knew the old man, had been surprised
by his fortitude. Far from being broken, the spirit in him was
happy, masterful, triumphant. He had work to do and was earning
that high reward of happiness--to him the best thing under heaven.
The dinner over, all rose, and Darrel bowed politely to the
warden's wife. Then he quoted:--

"'Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end.'

"Dear madam, they do hasten but to come as well as to go. Thanks
an' au revoir."

Darrel and Trove went away with the warden, who bade them sit a
while in his office. Tinker and young man were there talking until
the day was gone. The warden sat apart, reading. Now and again
they whispered earnestly, as if they were not agreed, Darrel
shaking his forefinger and his head, Trove came away as the dark
fell, a sad and thoughtful look upon him.

XXXIV

More Evidence

Trove went to the inn at Dannemora that evening he left Darrel and
there found a letter. It said that Leblanc was living near St.
Albans. Posted in Plattsburg and signed "Henry Hope," the letter
gave no hint of bad faith, and with all haste he went to the place
it named. He was there a fortnight, seeking the Frenchman, but
getting no word