over his sight, or remain as he was. Her pity
cried out for the one, and her love for the other. If he recovered,
at least there would be light for him in his dungeon, though she
might not be near to share it. But if he remained as he was, she
would be beside him always, his second sight, his silent guardian
spirit, eating her heart out with hungry love, but content and
thanking God.

"Why couldn't I leave things as they were?" she asked herself, but
she was startled out of the selfishness of her love by a great crisis
that came soon afterwards.

Now Michael Sunlocks had been allowed but little intercourse with the
world during the two and a half years of his imprisonment since the
day of his recapture at the Mount of Laws. While in the prison at
Reykjavik he had heard the pitiful story of that day; who his old
yoke-fellow had been, what he had done and said, and how at last,
when his brave scheme had tottered to ruin, he had gone out of the
ken and knowledge of all men. Since Sunlocks came to Grimsey he had
written once to Adam Fairbrother, asking tenderly after the old man's
own condition, earnestly after Greeba's material welfare, and with
deep affectionate solicitude for the last tidings of Jason. His
letter never reached its destination, for the Governor of Iceland was
the postmaster as well. And Adam on his part had written twice to
Michael Sunlocks, once from Copenhagen where (when Greeba had left
for Grimsey) he had gone by help of her money from Reykjavik,
thinking to see the King of Denmark in his own person; and once from
London, whereto he had followed on when that bold design had failed
him. But Adam's letters shared the fate of the letter of Sunlocks,
and thus through two long years no news of the world without had
broken the silence of that lonely home on the rock of the Arctic
seas.

But during that time there had been three unwritten communications
from Jorgen Jorgensen. The first came after some six months in the
shape of a Danish sloop of war, which took up its moorings in the
roadstead outside; the second after a year, in the shape of a
flagstaff and flag which were to be used twice a day for signalling
to the ship that the prisoner was still in safe custody; the third
after two years, in the shape of a huge lock and key, to be placed on
some room in which the prisoner was henceforward to be confined.
These three communications, marking in their contrary way the
progress of old Adam's persistent