way to the Governor, and protested that
Michael Sunlocks was not being treated as a prisoner, but as a
condemned criminal and galley-slave; and again and again Greeba had
come and gone between her lodgings at the house of the Bishop and her
heart's home at the prison, with food and drink for him who lay in
darkness and solitude. Little he knew to whom he was thus beholden,
for she took pains to keep her secret, but all Reykjavik saw what she
was doing. And the heart of Reykjavik was touched when she brought
her child from Krisuvik, thinking no shame of her altered state,
content to exist in simple poverty where she had once lived in
wealth, if so be that she might but touch the walls that contained
her husband.

Seeing how the sympathy was going, Jorgen Jorgensen set himself to
consider what step to take, and finally concluded to remove Michael
Sunlocks as far as possible from the place where his power was still
great, and his temptation to use it was powerful. The remotest spot
under his rule was Grimsey, an island lying on the Arctic circle,
thirty-five miles from the mainland. It was small, it was sparsely
populated, its inhabitants were fishermen with no craft but open row
boats; it had no trade; no vessels touched at it, and the sea that
separated it from Iceland was frozen during many months of the year.
And to this island Jorgensen decided that Michael Sunlocks should go.

When the word was brought to Michael Sunlocks, he asked what he was
expected to do on that little rock at the end of the world, and said
that Grimsey would be his sentence of Jorgen death.

"I prefer to die, for I have no great reason to wish for life," he
said; "but if I must live, let me live here. I am blind, I do not
know the darkness of this place, and all I ask of you is air and
water."

Old Adam, too, protested loudly, whereupon Jorgen Jorgensen answered
with a smile that he had supposed that all he intended to do was for
the benefit of the prisoner himself, who would surely prefer a whole
island to live upon to being confined in a cell at Reykjavik.

"He will there have liberty to move about," said Jorgen, "and he will
live under the protection of the Danish laws."

"Then that will be more than he has done here," said Adam, boldly,
"where he has existed at the caprice of a Danish tyrant."

The people of Reykjavik heard of the banishment with surprise and
anger, but nothing availed to prevent it. When the appointed day
came, Mic