if you were a warder
to-morrow, you'd have to do just what they do."

"Ay," said the warder, in passing, "you may lecture the bloke, but you
will not make a silk purse out of a sow's ear."

That was true, but nevertheless the smooth villain Monckton obtained a
great ascendency over this rough, shock-headed ruffian Burnley, and he
got into no more scrapes. He finished his two sentences, and left before
Monckton. This precious pair revealed to each other certain passages in
their beautiful lives. Monckton's were only half-confidences, but Burnley
told Monckton he had been concerned with others in a burglary at
Stockton, and also in the death of an overseer in a mine in Wales, and
gave the particulars with a sort of quaking gusto, and washing his hands
nervously in the tainted air all the time. To be sure the overseer had
earned his fate; he had himself been guilty of a crime--he had been true
to his employer.

The grateful Burnley left Portland at last, and promised faithfully to
send word to a certain friend of Monckton's, in London, where he was,
and what he was doing. Meantime he begged his way northward from
Portland, for the southern provinces were a dead letter to him.

Monckton's wife wrote to him as often as the rules of the jail permitted,
and her letters were full of affection, and of hope that their separation
would be shortened. She went into all the details of her life, and it was
now a creditable one. Young women are educated practically in Germany;
and Lucy was not only a good scholar, and almost a linguist, but
excellent at all needlework, and, better still, could cut dresses and
other garments in the best possible style. After one or two inferior
places, she got a situation with an English countess; and from that time
she was passed as a treasure from one member of the aristocracy to
another, and received high stipends, and presents of at least equal
value. Being a German, she put by money, and let her husband know it. But
in the seventh year of her enforced widowhood her letters began to
undergo subtle changes, one after another.

First there were little exhibitions of impatience. Then there were signs
of languor and a diminution of gush.

Then there were stronger protestations of affection than ever.

Then there were mixed with these protestations queries whether the
truest affection was not that which provided for the interests of the
beloved person.

Then in the eighth year of Monckton's impr