"Have you done anything so bad, then," I asked, "else why do you wish to
atone?"

He looked at me eagerly for a few seconds; then, without speaking, he
put two pans on the fire, first of all filling them with water. After
this he placed the fish in one of the pans, and waited while the water
boiled.

"What is your name, young man?" he asked presently.

"Jasper Pennington."

"Of Pennington?"

"Yes; what do you know about it?"

"I knew of a family of that name long years ago. Pennington of
Pennington. Why are you in this plight?"

"Because I have been robbed of my birthright," I replied, bitterly.

"By whom?"

"The Tresidder family."

"The Tresidder family--ah!" He said this with great bitterness and
passion. After a few seconds he grew calm again. "And have you sought to
be revenged?"

"I have sought rather to win back my own. But what do you know of the
Tresidders?"

"Nothing--oh, nothing, nothing, nothing! What could I, a poor
shipwrecked sailor, know about a great family?" This he said hurriedly,
almost fearfully, I thought. Presently he continued, "And you have done
no rash deeds, Jasper Pennington?"

"No."

"You have not killed any of their men, their women?"

"No; not yet."

"Oh, be careful. Do you know"--and he heaped some driftwood on the
fire--"that one moment of madness drives a man to hell? I've been in
hell now for--oh, nigh upon twenty years. Hell, Jasper Pennington, a
burning hell! Suffer anything, anything rather than--than--oh, it's
nothing. I'm only imagining still; but there--" And he became silent
again.

In spite of my many doubts and fears I became interested in the man, and
I watched him closely.

"Look, Jasper Pennington," he said presently, "anything got through
evil, through bloodshed, through murder carries a curse with it. I've
had the curse of Cain upon me now for many a year. I have been a
wanderer on the face of the earth, but I have kept my eyes open.
Everywhere it has been the same. Blood money, hate money, money evilly
got, always carries a curse. Don't touch it, don't touch it! It does not
burn the hands--oh, but it burns the heart, the soul! Oh, I have seen! I
know!"

"But supposing your father had his home stolen from him by lies,
treachery, fraud--suppose your father said to you with his dying breath,
'Get back that land; it is yours, it is your birthright, your true
possession,' what would you do?"

"Jasper Pennington, there be other birthrights than tho