ening, looking at her father's patched
coat.

The old man followed Holmes out.

"Master 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,
master."

"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 th' night," she said. "I ben'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 quiet.
There was not much in the years gone to soften his thought, as it grew
desperate and cruel: there was oppression and vice heaped on him, and
flung back out of his bitter heart. Nor much in the future: a blank
stretch of punishment to the end. He was an old man: was it easy