diately to
him,--asking quietly, as if he had not been suddenly tossed into a gulf
of despair by the breeze that brought him hope,--

"Has Laval sailed?"

"When the cannon fired," was the answer.

Then Adolphus placed the dish containing the prisoner's supper on the
table; he had already lighted the lamp in the hall. And now he wanted
to say something, on this his first appearance in the capacity of
keeper, and he knew what to say,--he had prepared himself abundantly,
he thought. But both the heart and the imagination of Adolphus Montier
stood in the way of such utterance as he had prepared. The instant his
eyes fell on that figure, lonely and forlorn, the instant he heard that
question, his kind heart became weakness, he stood in the prisoner's
place,--he saw the vessel sailing on its homeward voyage,--he beheld
men stepping from sea to shore, walking in happy freedom through the
streets of home;--a vision that filled his eyes with tears was before
him, and he was long in controlling his emotion sufficiently to say,--

"We are in Laval's place, Sir, and we hope you will have no cause to
regret the change. I don't know how to be cruel and severe,--but I must
do my duty. But I wasn't put here for a tyrant."

"I know why you are here; Laval told me," said the prisoner.

"Then we're friends, a'n't we?" asked Adolphus; "though I must do my
duty by them that employ me. You understand. I'd set every door and
window of this building wide open for you, if I had my way; though I
don't know what you're here for. But I swear before heaven and earth,
nothing will tempt me to forget my duty to the government;--if you
should escape, it would be over my dead body. So you see my position."

"Yes," said the prisoner; and if anything could have tempted a smile
from him, this manner of speech would have done it. But Adolphus was
far enough from smiling.

"Come, eat something," said he, with tremulous persuasion. "My wife
knows how to get up such things. She will do the best for you she can."

"Thank you."

The prisoner again looked out of the window. It was growing dark; the
outline of sea and land was fading out of sight; dreary looked the
world without,--but within the lamp seemed shining with a brighter
light than usual. And here was a person and a speech, a human sympathy,
that almost warmed and soothed him.

He approached the table where Adolphus had spread his supper. He sat in
the chair that was placed for him, and the