od face to face. But now a new feeling came to me. Had I
not after all been a brute, and had I not acted like a maniac? For the
look on her face made me love goodness and beauty. I could do nothing,
however; my hands were numb, and my tongue was dry and parched. All I
was capable of at this moment was to listen and to look into the fair
maid's face, and feel a great longing that she might not despise me as
Nick Tresidder evidently intended that she should.

The crowd did not pelt me while she stood there; I think it was because
there was something in her presence that hindered them. Every one could
see at a glance that she was different from the host of laughing things
that cared nothing for my disgrace.

I waited eagerly for her to speak again; her words seemed to ease my
pain, and to make me feel that I, too, was a man in spite of all I had
suffered.

"Jasper Pennington," she said, presently; "why, Pennington is the name
of your house, Nick!"

"Yes," replied Nick, savagely.

"He's young, too," she continued, looking at me curiously, and yet with
a pitying look in her eyes.

Then I remembered I was twenty-one that day, and that my father had been
dead barely two years. Thus, on my twenty-first birthday, I was
pilloried as a vagabond and a street brawler, while this beauteous girl
looked at me.

"Where does he live?" she asked again, as though she were interested in
me.

"Up to a year ago he lived in St. Eve's parish," replied Nick. "He
managed to stay by fraud on Elmwater Barton; he was a brute then, and
tried to kill me. He would have succeeded, too, but for Jacob Buddle. I
hope the man who flogs him will lay it on hard."

She gave me one more look, and in it I saw wonder and pity and fear.
Then she said, "Let us go away, Nick. I do not care to stay longer."

"No, we will not go yet!" cried Nick; "let us see him get his lashes. He
will be taken down in a few minutes. There, the constables are coming."

I saw the tears start to her eyes, while her lips trembled, and at that
moment I did not feel the sting of the lies Nick had told.

The whipping-post was close to the place where the pillory had been set
up, and I saw that the constable held the rope with which I was to be
tied. Then two men came and unfastened the piece of wood which had
confined my head and hands. At first I felt no strength either to hold
up my head or to move my hands, but while they were untying my legs the
blood began to flow more f