n
account of non-payment of wages. I knew it was all up with me. When I
saw I must be found out, I fled--

"I never meant to rob them--to rob any one, never--never--" His voice
broke slightly on those words.

"I believe you." Father Honore spoke for the first time. "Not one man in
ten thousand begins by meaning to steal."

"I know it; that's what makes the bitterer cud-chewing."

"I know--I know." The priest spoke under his breath. He was sitting on
the side of the cot, and leaned forward suddenly, his elbows on his
knees, his chin resting in his palms, his eyes gazing beyond Champney to
something intangible, some inner vision that was at that moment
projecting itself from the sensitive plate of consciousness upon the
blank of reality.

Champney looked at him keenly. He was aware that, for the moment, Father
Honore was present with him only in the body. He waited, before
speaking, until the priest's eyes turned slowly to his; his position
remained the same. Champney went on:

"All that you have done to obtain this reprieve, has been done for
me--for mine--"; his voice trembled. "A man comes to know the measure of
such sacrifice after an experience like mine--I have no words--"

"Don't, Champney--don't--"

"No, I won't, because I can't--because nothing is adequate. I thought it
all out last night. There is but one way to show you, to prove anything
to you; I am going to do as you said: make good my manhood--"

Father Honore's hand closed upon Champney's.

"--And there is but one way in which I can make it good. I can take only
a step at a time now, but it's this first step that will start me
right."

He paused a moment as if to gather strength to voice his decision.

"I should disown my manhood if I shirked now. The horror of prospective
years of imprisonment has been more to me than death--I welcomed _that_
as the alternative. But now, the manhood that is left in me demands that
if I am willing to live as a man, I must take my punishment like a man.
I am going to let things take their usual course; accept no relief from
the money guaranteed to reimburse the syndicate; plead guilty, and let
the sentence be what it may: seven, fifteen, or twenty years--it's all
one."

He drew a long breath as of deliverance. The mere formulating of his
decision in the presence of another man gave him strength, almost
assurance to act for himself in furthering his own commitment. But the
priest bowed his head into his hand