e himself was making; but Greeba heard it and
stopped playing, and presently the Lagmann entered the room.

"A good thing is no worse for being done betimes," said the Judge,
"so here is the pardon ready to your hand for signature."

And with that he handed a paper to Michael Sunlocks, who said with
cheer, "You're right, Lagmann, you're right; and my wife will give
you a glass of wine while I write you my name."

"A cup of coffee, if you are taking it," said the Judge, with a bow
to Greeba, who saw nothing of it, for her eyes were following her
husband.

"Michael," she said, "I beseech you not to sign that paper. Only
give way to me this once; I have never asked you before, and I will
never ask you again. I am in earnest, Michael dear, and if you will
not yield to me for your own sake, yield to me for mine."

"How is this? How grave we are!" said Michael Sunlocks, pausing with
pen in hand.

"I know I have no right to meddle in such matters, but, dear Michael,
don't sign that pardon--don't bring that man back. I beseech you, I
beg of you."

"This is very strange," said Michael Sunlocks.

"It is also very simple," said the Judge, bringing his red
handkerchief up to his dim eyes again.

"What!" said Michael Sunlocks. "Greeba, you do not know this
man--this Jason?"

Greeba hesitated a moment, and glanced at the Lagmann.

"You don't know him?" repeated Michael Sunlocks.

She was sorely tempted, and she fell. "For my husband's sake," she
thought, and then with a prayer for pardon she lifted her head and
said falteringly, "No, no--why no, of course not."

Michael Sunlocks was satisfied. "'Why no, of course not,'" he echoed,
laughing a little, and then he dipped his quill in the ink-horn.

"But I beseech you again, do not bring that man back," she cried.

There was a painful pause, and, to cover it, the Lagmann said, "Your
husband is a brave-hearted man, who does not know the name of fear."

And then Michael Sunlocks said, "I will ask your pardon, Lagmann,
while I step into the next room with my wife. I have something to
tell her. Come, Greeba, come. I'll leave the document with you for
the present, Lagmann," he added over his shoulder as he passed out.
Greeba walked beside him with downcast eyes, like a guilty thing
condemned.

"Now, love," he said, when they were alone, "it is sweet and
beautiful of you to think so much of me, but there is something that
you do not know, and I ought to tell you. Maybe I