hael
Sunlocks concerning the man who had wooed and won and released her
during the long years of his silence and her trouble. "He will hear
the story now," she thought, "and not from my lips but from Jason's."

Being then so far immersed she could not but go on, and so she had
allowed herself to be led to the courthouse. No one there had thought
to ask her if she had known anything of Jason before that day, and
she on her part had said nothing of knowing him. But when Jason had
looked at her with eyes of reproach that seemed to go through her
soul, he seemed to be saying, "This is but half the truth. Dare you
not tell the rest?"

Then listening to the lying of other witnesses, and looking up at
Jason's face, so full of pain, and seeing how silent he was under
cruel perjury, she remembered that this man's worst crime had been
his love of her, and so she staggered to her feet to confess
everything.

When she came to herself after that, she was back in her own
home--her new home, the home of her happy dream, her husband's home
and hers, and there her first fear returned to her. "He will tell
all," she thought, "and evil tongues will make it worse, and shame
will fall upon my husband, and I shall be lost, lost, lost."

She waited with feverish impatience for the coming of the Bishop to
tell her the result of the trial, and at length he came.

"What have they done with him?" she cried; and he told her.

"What defence did he make?" she asked.

"None," said the Bishop.

"What did he say?" she asked again.

"Not a word but 'No,'" said the Bishop.

Then she drew a long breath of immense relief, and at the next
instant she reproached herself. How little of soul she had been! And
how great of heart had been Jason! He could have wrecked her life
with a word, but he had held his peace. She had sent him to prison,
and rather than smite he had suffered himself to be smitten. She felt
herself small and mean.

And the Bishop, having, as he thought, banished Greeba's terror,
hobbled to the door, for now the hour was very late, and the snow was
still falling.

"The poor soul will do your good husband no mischief now. Poor lad!
poor lad! After all, he is more fit for a madhouse than for a prison.
Good-night, my child, good-night."

And so the good old man went his way.

It was intended that Jason should start for the Sulphur Mines on the
following day, and he was lodged over night in a little house of
detention that sto