ed and broken by
long illness, was evidently unequal to the burden of the emotions he was
suffering under, and before he reached the hotel his mind was wandering
away in all the incoherency of actual madness.

Next to the unhappy youth himself, Grounsell's case was the most
pitiable. Unable to account for the terrible consequences of the scene
whose events were a secret to himself, he felt all the responsibility
of a calamity he had been instrumental in producing. From Frank it was
utterly hopeless to look for any explanation; already his brain was
filled with wild images of war and battle, mingled with broken memories
of a scene which none around his bed could recognize. In his distraction
Grounsell hurried to the jail to see and interrogate Meekins. Agitated
and distracted as he was, all his prudent reserve and calm forethought
were completely forgotten. He saw himself the cause of a dreadful
affliction, and already cured in his heart the wiles and snares in
which he was engaged. "If this boy's reason be lost forever, I, and I
only, am in fault," he went on repeating as he drove in mad haste back
to the prison.

In a few and scarcely coherent words he explained to Gray his wish to
see the prisoner, and although apprised that he had already gone to
rest, he persisted strongly, and was at length admitted into his cell.

Meekins started at the sound of the opening door, and called out
gruffly, "Who's there?"

"It's your friend," said Grounsell, who had already determined on any
sacrifice of his policy which should give him the hope of aiding Frank.

"My friend!" said Meekins, with a dry laugh. "Since when, sir?"

"Since I have begun to believe I may have wronged you, Meekins," said
Grounsell, seating himself at the bedside.

"I see, sir," rejoined the other, slowly; "I see it all. Mr. Dalton has
told you what passed between us, and you are wiser than he was."

"He has not told me everything, Meekins,--at least, not so fully and
clearly as I wish. I want you, therefore, to go over it all again for
me, omitting nothing that was said on either side."

"Ay," said the prisoner, dryly, "I see. Now, what did Mr. Dalton say to
you? I 'm curious to know; I 'd like to hear how he spoke of me."

"As of one who was well disposed to serve him, Meekins," said Grounsell,
hesitatingly, and in some confusion.

"Yes, to be sure," said the fellow, with a keen glance beneath his
gathering brows. "And he told you, too, that we pa