e load. I might
make excuse that you should carry in the basket instead of me. Are
you willing to run the risk of rebuke, and perchance some small
unpleasantness at the hands of the keepers of the prison, to give
this great joy to Anthony?"

Freda's face was all aflame with her joy. In a moment she had, with
her sister's aid, so transformed herself that none would have
guessed her other than the servant of Arthur, carrying a load for
his master. She was tall and slight and active, and trod with firm
steps as he walked on before her in the gathering dusk. She
suffered him not to bear the load even a portion of the way, but
played her part of servant to perfection, and so came with a
beating heart beneath the frowning gateway of the prison, where it
seemed to her that some evil and terrible presence overshadowed all
who entered.

Arthur was known to the sentries and servants by this time. He
visited several of the prisoners, and his gratuities made his
visits welcome. He was conducted almost without remark towards
Dalaber's cell, and no one made any comment when he said to Freda,
in the commanding tone of a master:

"Bring the basket along, sirrah! Follow me, and wait for me till I
call. I shall not be above a few moments. It grows late."

Freda had trembled as she passed the portal, but she did not
tremble now. She stood where she was bidden, and Arthur, for a very
short time, disappeared in the darkness, and she heard the shooting
of a bolt. Then the turnkey came back and said, with a short laugh:

"Thy master hath a long purse and a civil tongue. I go to do his
bidding, and refresh myself with a sup of good canary. Go on
thither with that basket. I shall be back in a few short minutes.
He will call thee when he wants thee."

The man and his lantern disappeared, and the door of the corridor
was slammed to and locked. There was no hope of escape for any
behind it, but at least there was entrance free to Anthony's cell.

The next moment she was within the miserable place, faintly lighted
by the small lantern Arthur had brought, and with a cry she flung
herself upon her knees beside the pallet bed on which Dalaber lay,
and called him by his name. Arthur meanwhile stood sentry without
the door.

"Freda, my love!" he cried, bewildered at sight of her, and with
the fever mists clouding his brain.

"Anthony, Anthony, thou must not die! Thou must live, and do some
great good for the world in days to come. Do not di