had tried to corrupt her, and could not, announced that somebody
else had done so."

"It's a lie," cried Jason.

"It was plain enough," said the priest, "that she was about to give
birth to a child, and as she would make no explanation she was turned
adrift."

"Where is she now?" asked Jason.

"Lying in at the farmhouse on the edge of the snow yonder," said the
priest. "I saw her last night. She trusted me with her story, and it
was straight and simple. Her husband had been sent out to the mines
by the old scoundrel at Reykjavik. She had followed him, only to be
near him and breathe the air he breathed. Perhaps with some wild hope
of helping his escape she had hidden her true name and character and
taken the place of a menial, being a lady born."

"Then her husband is still at the mines?" said Jason.

"Yes," said the priest.

"Does he know of her disgrace?"

"No."

"What's his name?"

"The poor soul would give me no name, but she knew her husband's
number. It was A 25."

"I know him," said Jason.

Next day, his hut being built and roofed after some fashion, Jason
went down to the office of the Captain of the Mines and said, "I
don't like the Free Command, sir. May I give it up in favor of
another man?"

"And what man, pray?" asked the Captain.

"A 25," said Jason.

"No," said the Captain.

"I've built my house, sir," said Jason, "and if you won't give it to
A 25, let the poor woman from the hospital live in it, and take me
back among the men."

"That won't do, my lad. Go along to your work," said the Captain.

And when Jason was gone the Captain thought within himself, "What
does this mean? Is the lad planning the man's escape? And who is this
English woman that she should be the next thought in his head?"

So the only result of Jason's appeal was that Michael Sunlocks was
watched the closer, worked the harder, persecuted the more by petty
tyrannies, and that an order was sent up to the farmhouse where
Greeba lay in the dear dishonor of her early motherhood, requiring
her to leave the neighborhood of Krisuvik as speedily as her
condition allowed.

This was when the long dark days of winter were beginning to fall
back before the sweet light of spring. And when the snow died off
the mountains, and the cold garment of the jokulls was sucked full of
holes like the honeycomb, and the world that had been white grew
black, and the flowers began to show in the corries, and the sweet
summer was com