e had anything to say.

'To say!' he cried. 'Not I. I'm ready.--Yes,' he added, as his eye fell
upon Barnaby, 'I have a word to say, too. Come hither, lad.'

There was, for the moment, something kind, and even tender, struggling
in his fierce aspect, as he wrung his poor companion by the hand.

'I'll say this,' he cried, looking firmly round, 'that if I had ten
lives to lose, and the loss of each would give me ten times the agony
of the hardest death, I'd lay them all down--ay, I would, though you
gentlemen may not believe it--to save this one. This one,' he added,
wringing his hand again, 'that will be lost through me.'

'Not through you,' said the idiot, mildly. 'Don't say that. You were
not to blame. You have always been very good to me.--Hugh, we shall know
what makes the stars shine, NOW!'

'I took him from her in a reckless mood, and didn't think what harm
would come of it,' said Hugh, laying his hand upon his head, and
speaking in a lower voice. 'I ask her pardon; and his.--Look here,' he
added roughly, in his former tone. 'You see this lad?'

They murmured 'Yes,' and seemed to wonder why he asked.

'That gentleman yonder--' pointing to the clergyman--'has often in the
last few days spoken to me of faith, and strong belief. You see what
I am--more brute than man, as I have been often told--but I had faith
enough to believe, and did believe as strongly as any of you gentlemen
can believe anything, that this one life would be spared. See what he
is!--Look at him!'

Barnaby had moved towards the door, and stood beckoning him to follow.

'If this was not faith, and strong belief!' cried Hugh, raising his
right arm aloft, and looking upward like a savage prophet whom the near
approach of Death had filled with inspiration, 'where are they! What
else should teach me--me, born as I was born, and reared as I have
been reared--to hope for any mercy in this hardened, cruel, unrelenting
place! Upon these human shambles, I, who never raised this hand in
prayer till now, call down the wrath of God! On that black tree, of
which I am the ripened fruit, I do invoke the curse of all its victims,
past, and present, and to come. On the head of that man, who, in his
conscience, owns me for his son, I leave the wish that he may never
sicken on his bed of down, but die a violent death as I do now, and have
the night-wind for his only mourner. To this I say, Amen, amen!'

His arm fell downward by his side; he turned; and moved