blood, who is ill and suffering. You say you
love me?"

"I think you know by this time that I do," said Browne.

"Then what would you do if I were seized and carried away to a terrible
island, where my life would be one long torture? Would you not do your
best to rescue me?"

"Of course I would," said Browne indignantly. "You need not ask that."

"Very well, then, you can see now how I feel. I do not say that he was
right in his beliefs or in what he did; on the contrary, I think that
he was distinctly wrong. The fact, however, remains that he is my
father; and, however great his faults may have been, he has at least
been punished for them. Can you picture what his existence must have
been these many years? But of course you cannot. You do not know
anything of Russian prisons. They have been described to me, however,
by one who has seen them, and the account has filled me with such
terror as I have never known in my life before."

"But it would be sheer madness for you to attempt to rescue him," said
Browne. "You could not possibly succeed. Your effort would be
foredoomed to failure."

"It is very probable," she answered; "but would you have me for that
reason draw back? It is my duty to make the attempt, even if I fail.
You would have done the same for your own father, I know, had he been
in the same position. Why should I not therefore do it for mine?"

"Because--why, because it is too preposterous," said Browne, at loss
for a better reason. "I never heard of such a thing. You have not the
least idea of the magnitude of the danger of what you are attempting."

"Perhaps not," she said. "But if all those who make an attempt could
foresee the result, I fancy only a very small percentage would continue
to strive. No; if you love me, you will not try to make a coward of
me, just at the time when I am trying to do what I consider right."

Browne took counsel with himself. The position was the most
extraordinary he had ever faced. In his life he had met with many
peculiar people, but never had he been brought in contact with a young
girl who was willing to give up love, wealth, comfort, every prospect
of happiness, even life itself, in order to attempt what was neither
more nor less than a hopeless and impossible undertaking. And yet,
short as his acquaintance with Katharine had been, he felt that he knew
her well enough to be convinced that she would not abandon her purpose
without a struggle.