ve me_
_Your friend,_
_Dan Moran._

This letter, and the information it contained, was as great a surprise
to Mrs. Cowels as the news of Cowels's death had been to Moran. She
began at the beginning and read it carefully over again, as women always
do. She determined to go at once to the jail. She was shrewd enough to
say "Yes" when asked if the prisoner were related in any way to her, and
was shortly in the presence of the alleged dynamiter. She did not find
him walking the floor impatiently, or lying idly on his back counting
the cracks in the wall, but seated upon his narrow bed with a book
resting on his cocked-up knees, for, unlike most railway employees,
Moran was a great reader.

"I'm glad to see you, Mrs. Cowels," he said in his easy, quiet way, as
he arose and took her hand, "but sorry we are compelled to meet under
such melancholy circumstances."

At sight of their old friend her woman's heart sent forth a fresh flood
of tears, and for some moments they stood thus with heads bowed in
silent grief.

"I'm sorry I can't offer you a chair," said the prisoner after she had
raised her head and dried her eyes. "This only chair I have is wrecked,
but if you don't mind the iron couch--" and then they sat down side by
side and began to talk over the sad events of the past week.

"Your presence here is a great surprise," began Moran, "and a great
pleasure as well, for it leads me to hope that you believe me
innocent."

"How could I believe you otherwise, for I do not know now of what you
are accused, nor did I know, until I received your note, that you were
imprisoned."

"But the papers have been full of--"

"Perhaps," she said interrupting him, "but I have not looked at a paper
since I read of the death of George."

Here she broke down again and sobbed so that the guard outside the cell
turned his back; and the old engineer, growing nervous, a thing unusual
for him, decided to scold her.

"You must brace up now, Nora,--Mrs. Cowels, and close your sand valve.
You've got a heavy load and a bad rail, and you mustn't waste water in
this way."

"Oh! I shall never be able to do it, Dan, I shall die--I don't want to
live and I shall die."

"You'll do nothing of the sort--women don't die so easy; thousands of
others, not half as brave as you are, have made the same run, hard as it
seems, and have come in on time. There are few sorrows that time will
not heal. Engine-men are born to die, an