and useful and could feel himself a _man_.

"Do you wonder, Miss Andres, that the man was grateful? Do you wonder that
he worshipped his benefactor--that he looked upon his friend as upon his
savior?"

"No," said the girl, "I do not wonder. It was a beautiful thing to do--to
help the poor fellow who wanted to do right. I do not wonder that the man
who had escaped, loved his friend."

"But listen," said the other, "when the convict was beginning to feel
safe; when he saw that he was out of danger; when he was living an
honorable, happy life, instead of spending his days in the hell they call
prison; when he was looking forward to years of happiness instead of to
years of torment; then his benefactor came to him suddenly, one day, and
said, 'Unless you do what I tell you, now--unless you help me to something
that I want, I will send you back to prison. Do as I say, and your life
shall go on as it is--as you have planned. Refuse, and I will turn you
over to the officers, and you will go back to your hell for the remainder
of your life.'

"Do you wonder, Miss Andres, that the convict obeyed his master?"

The girl's face was white with despair, but she did not lose her
self-control. She answered the man, thoughtfully--as though they were
discussing some situation in which neither had a vital interest. "I think,
Mr. Marston," she said, "that it would depend upon what it was that the
man wanted the convict to do. It seems to me that I can imagine the
convict being happier in prison, knowing that he had not done what the man
wanted, than he would he, free, remembering what he had done to gain his
freedom. What was it the man wanted?"

Breathlessly, Sibyl waited the answer.

The man on the other side of the fire did not speak.

At last, in a voice hoarse with emotion, Henry Marston said, "Freedom and
a life of honorable usefulness purchased at a price, or hell, with only
the memory of a good deed--which should the man choose, Miss Andres?"

"I think," she replied, "that you should tell me, plainly, what it was
that the man wanted the convict to do."

"I will go on with the story," said the other.

"The convict's benefactor--or, perhaps I should say, master--loved a woman
who refused to listen to him. The girl, for some reason, left home, very
suddenly and unexpectedly to any one. She left a hurried note, saying,
only, that she was going away. By accident, the man found the note and saw
his opportunity. He guessed th