men!
And a voice cried:

"Adrian!"

It had a joyful ring, well-nigh the old hearty tones. It struck Adrian
to the soul.

He could have borne, he thought, to find his friend a broken man,
changed out of all recognition, crushed by his misfortunes; but to
find him the same, a little pale, indeed, and thinner, with a steady
earnestness in the sea-blue eyes instead of the old dancing-light, but
still gallant and undaunted, still radiating vigorous life and breezy
energy by his very presence, this was a cruelty of fate which seemed
unendurable.

"I declare," the prisoner had continued, "I declare I thought you were
only the incorruptible jailer taking his morning survey. They are
desperately careful of me, Adrian, and watch me with maternal
solicitude lest I should strangle myself with my chains, these pretty
bracelets which I have had to wear ever since poor Renny was found
out, or swallow my pillow--dash me! it's small enough--and spoil the
pretty show for Saturday! Why, why, Adrian, old friend?"

There was a sudden change of tone to the warmest concern, for Sir
Adrian had staggered and would have fallen had not Jack, as nimbly as
his fetters would allow him, sprung to support him and conduct him to
the bed.

A shaft of light struck through the tiny barred window on to the elder
man's face, and showed it against the surrounding darkness deathly
white and wet with anguish.

"I have done all I could, Hubert," he murmured, in an extinguished
voice, "but to no avail."

"Ay, man, I guessed as much. But never fret for me, Adrian: I have
looked death too often in the face to play the poltroon, now. I don't
say it's the end I should have chosen for myself; but it is
inevitable, and there is nothing, as you know, my friend, that a man
cannot face if he knows it must be faced."

The grasp of his strong warm hands, all manacled as they were, upon
the other's nerveless clammy fingers, sent, more than the words,
something of the speaker's own courage to his friend's wrung heart.
And yet that very courage was an added torment.

That from a community, so full of evil, feeble, harmful wretches, this
noble soul, no matter how it had sinned, should be banished at the
bidding of justice--what mockery of right was this? The world was out
of joint indeed. He groaned aloud.

"Nay, I'll have none of it," cried Jack. "Our last talk, Adrian, must
not be spoiled by futile regrets. Yes, our last talk it is to be,
for"--the prisoner