ly until they had passed a house just beyond.
Then he stopped again. "Look here, Barney," said he.

"Well," said Barney. He stopped, but he did not turn or face Thomas.
He only presented to him that curved, or semblance of a curved, back.

"I want to speak to you about Charlotte Barnard," said Thomas Payne,
abruptly. Barney waited without a word.

"I suppose you'll think it's none of my business, and in one way it
isn't," said Thomas, "but I am going to say it for her sake; I have
made up my mind to. It seems to me it's time, if anybody cares
anything about her. What are you treating Charlotte Barnard so for,
Barnabas Thayer? It's time you gave an account to somebody, and you
can give it to me."

Barney did not answer.

"Speak, you miserable coward!" shouted Thomas Payne, with a sudden
threatening motion of his right arm.

Then Barney turned, and Thomas started back at the sight of his face.
"I can't help it," he said.

"Can't help it, you--"

"I can't, before God, Thomas."

"Why not?"

Barney raised his right hand and pointed past Thomas.
"You--met--Royal Bennet just--now," he gasped, hoarsely.

Thomas nodded.

"You--saw--his--back?"

"Yes."

"Well, something like that ails me. I--can't help it--before God."

"You don't mean--" Thomas said, and stopped, looking at Barney's
back.

"I mean that's why I can't--help it."

"Have you hurt your back?" Thomas asked, in a subdued tone.

"I've hurt my soul," said Barney. "It happened that Sunday night
years ago. I--can't get over it. I am bent like his back."

"I should think you'd better get over it, then, if that's all,"
Thomas Payne said, roughly.

"I--can't, any more than he can."

"Do you mean your back's hurt? For God's sake talk sense, Barney!"
Thomas cried out, in bewilderment.

"It's more than my back; it's me."

Thomas stared at Barney; a horror as of something uncanny and
abnormal stole over him. Was the man's back curved, or had he by some
subtle vision a perception of some terrible spiritual deformity, only
symbolized by a curved spine? In a minute he gave an impatient stamp,
and tried to shake himself free from the vague pity and horror which
the other had aroused.

"Do you know that you are ruining the life of the best woman that
ever lived?" he demanded, fiercely.

Barney looked at him, and suddenly there was a flash as of something
noble in his face.

"Look here, Thomas," he said, brokenly, in hoarse gasps. "Last night
I--we