he said, kindly, as she lighted his lamp.

He put some money on the table.

"You must take it," as she looked uneasy. "For Tiger's board, say. I
never see him now. A bright new frock, remember."

She thanked him, her eyes brightening, looking at her father's patched
coat.

The old man followed Holmes out.

"Marster Holmes"----

"Have done with this," said Holmes, sternly. "Whoever breaks law
abides by it. It is no affair of mine."

The old man clutched his hands together fiercely, struggling to be
quiet.

"Ther' 's none knows it but yoh," he said, in a smothered voice. "Fur
God's sake be merciful! It'll kill my girl,--it 'll kill her. Gev me
a chance, Marster."

"You trouble me. I must do what is just."

"It's not just," he said, savagely. "What good'll it do me to go back
ther'? I was goin' down, down, an' bringin' th' others with me. What
good'll it do you or the rest to hev me ther'? To make me afraid?
It's poor learnin' frum fear. Who taught me what was right? Who
cared? No man cared fur my soul, till I thieved 'n' robbed; 'n' then
judge 'n' jury 'n' jailers was glad to pounce on me. Will yoh gev me a
chance? will yoh?"

It was a desperate face before him; but Holmes never knew fear.

"Stand aside," he said, quietly. "To-morrow I will see you. You need
not try to escape."

He passed him, and went slowly up through the vacant mill to his
chamber.

The man sat down on the lower step a few moments, quite quiet, crushing
his hat up in a slow, steady way, looking up at the mouldy cobwebs on
the wall. He got up at last, and went in to Lois. Had she heard? The
old scarred face of the girl looked years older, he thought,--but it
might be fancy. She did not say anything for a while, moving slowly,
with a new gentleness, about him; her very voice was changed, older.
He tried to be cheerful, eating his supper: she need not know until
to-morrow. He would get out of the town to-night, or---- There were
different ways to escape. When he had done, he told her to go; but she
would not.

"Let me stay til' night," she said. "I be n't afraid o' th' mill."

"Why, Lo," he said, laughing, "yoh used to say yer death was hid here,
somewheres."

"I know. But ther' 's worse nor death. But it'll come right," she
said, persistently, muttering to herself, as she leaned her face on her
knees, watching,--"it'll come right."

The glimmering shadows changed and faded for an hour. The man sat
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