his kindness
turn to anger? Would he despise her for even having dared to name the
suspicion which was bringing hither an austere Abbe and officers of the
law?

"We are harbouring a man the law is tracking down," she said with an
infinite appeal in her eyes.

He did not quite understand. He thought that perhaps she meant Jo, and
he glanced towards the door; but she kept her eyes on him, and they
told him that she meant himself. He chilled, as though ether were being
poured through his veins.

Did the world know, then, that Charley Steele was alive? Was the law
sending its officers to seize the embezzler, the ruffian who had robbed
widow and orphan?

If it were so.... To go back to the world whence he came, with the
injury he must do to others, and the punishment also that he must
suffer, if he did not tell the truth about Billy! And Chaudiere, which,
in spite of all, was beginning to have a real belief in him--where was
his contempt for the world now!... And Rosalie, who trusted him--this
new element rapidly grew dominant in his thoughts-to be the common
criminal in her eyes!

His paleness gave way to a flush as like her own as could be.

"You mean me?" he asked quietly.

She had thought that his flush meant anger, and she was surprised at the
quiet tone. She nodded assent. "For what crime?" he asked.

"For stealing."

His heart seemed to stand still. Then, it had come in spite of all it
had come. Here was his resurrection, and the old life to face.

"What did I steal?" he asked with dull apathy. "The gold vessels
from the Catholic Cathedral of Quebec, after--after trying to blow up
Government House with gunpowder."

His despair passed. His face suddenly lighted. He smiled. It was so
absurd. "Really!" he said. "When was the place blown up?"

"Two days before you came here last year--it was not blown up; an
attempt was made."

"Ah, I did not know. Why was the attempt made to blow it up?"

"Some Frenchman's hatred of the English, they say."

"But I am not French."

"They do not know. You speak French as perfectly as English--ah,
Monsieur, Monsieur, I believe you are whatever you say." Pain and appeal
rang from her lips.

"I am only an honest tailor," he answered gently. He ruled his face to
calmness, for he read the agony in the girl's face, and troubled as he
was, he wished to show her that he had no fear.

"It is for what you were they will arrest you," she said helplessly, and
as though he nee