e
the sting is. I'm to go out of the world, it seems, with a blot on my
name, and she'll never know who put it there."

"If you saw her yourself----"

"Nay," said Westwood resolutely--"I won't see her again. She'd remember
me all her life then, and she'd better forget. You're a good man, sir,
and a kind--couldn't you take her away somewhere out of hearing of all
this commotion, to some place where they would not know her father's
story, and where she'd never hear whether he was alive or dead?"

The chaplain shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, Westwood," he said compassionately. "I know of no place
where she could be safe from gossip."

"She will hear my story wherever she goes, I suppose you mean," said
Westwood wearily. "Ah, well, she will learn to bear it in time, poor
soul."

The chaplain looked at him curiously. There was more sincerity of tone,
less cant and affectation in this man than in any criminal he had ever
known.

"I suppose, sir," said the prisoner, after a short silence, during which
he sat with his eyes fixed on the floor--"I suppose there is no chance
of a reprieve--of the sentence being commuted?"

"I'm afraid not, Westwood. And you must let me say that your own conduct
during the trial makes it more improbable that any commutation of the
sentence should be obtained. If, my man, you could have shown any
penitence--if you had confessed your crime----"

"The crime that I never committed?" said Westwood, with a flash of his
sullen dark eyes. "Ah, you all speak alike! It's the same
story--'Confess--repent.' I may have plenty to confess and repent of,
but not this, for I never murdered Sydney Vane."

The chaplain shook his head.

"I am sorry that you persist in your story," he said sadly. "I had hoped
that you would come to a better mind."

"Do you want me to go into eternity with a lie on my lips?" asked
Westwood, fiercely. "I tell you that I am speaking the truth now. My
coat was torn on a briar; I fired my gun at a crow as I went over the
fields to my cottage. I saw a man go into the copse after Mr. Vane just
as I came out. Find him, if you want to know who killed Mr. Vane."

"You have told us the same story before," said the chaplain, in a
discouraged tone. "For your own sake, Westwood, I wish I could believe
you. Who was the man? What was he like? Where did he go? Unless those
questions are answered, it is impossible that your story should be
believed."

"I can't answer them," said Wes