hinted at it in my
letter, but there has never been a chance to explain. Have you heard
that this Jason is my brother?"

"Yes," said Greeba, faintly.

"It is true," said Michael Sunlocks. "And you know that when I first
came to Iceland it was not to join the Latin school, but on an errand
of mercy?"

"Yes," said Greeba.

"Well, the first of my duties was to find Jason's mother, and the
next, was to find Jason himself."

"Jason!" cried Greeba.

"Yes, it was my father who sent me, for they had suffered much
through his great fault, God forgive him! and I was to succor them in
their distress. You know what followed?"

"Yes," said Greeba, softly.

"I came too late for the mother; the good woman was in her grave. I
could not light upon her son, and lent an ear to the idle story that
he was dead also. My search ceased, my zeal flagged, and, putting
aside the solemn promise I made my father, I went on with my own
affairs. But I never believed that he was dead, and I felt I should
live to meet with him yet."

"Oh! oh!" cried Greeba.

"And many a time since my conscience has reproached me with a mission
unfulfilled; and, awakening from many a dream of the hour and the
place wherein I pledged my word to him that died trusting me, loving
me, doting on me--heaven pity him, bad man though he was--as never a
son was loved by a father before, it has not appeased me to say to
myself, 'Michael, while you are here, given up to your ambitions, he
is there amid the perils and hardships of the sea, and he is your
brother, and the only kinsman left to you in the wide world.'"

Greeba was sobbing by this time.

"And now, my darling, you know all, and why I wish to sign this
pardon. Could I ever know a moment's happiness with my brother
slaving like a beast at yonder mines? What if he is jealous of me,
and if his jealousy had driven him to madness! There is a sense in
which he is right. But, whether right or wrong, mad or sane, he shall
not be punished for my sake. So, dearest love, my darling, dry your
beautiful eyes, and let me ease my conscience the only way I may, for
I have no fear, and my wife must have none."

"Sunlocks," said Greeba, "you have made me ashamed. I am no fit wife
for a man like you. I am too little-hearted. Oh, why did I ever come?
Why? Why?" And she wept as if her heart would break. He comforted her
with tender protests, enfolding her in his arms and caressing her
lovely head.

"Tell me," he whispere