ere after four years. He did not reflect that they were as
imperishable as all the other things about; the miracle was that they
were there on the table, as though he had used them only yesterday. The
most trivial things in the room struck him deepest, and he found
himself fighting hard, for a moment, to keep his nerve.

"He told me about the bowl and the spoon, John Keith did," he said,
nodding toward them. "He told me just what I'd find here, even to that.
You see, he loved the place greatly and everything that was in it. It
was impossible for him to forget even the bowl and the spoon and where
he had left them."

It was easier after that. The old home was whispering back its memories
to him, and he told them to Mary Josephine as they went slowly from
room to room, until John Keith was living there before her again, the
John Keith whom Derwent Conniston had run to his death. It was this
thing that gripped her, and at last what was in her mind found voice.

"It wasn't YOU who made him die, was it, Derry? It wasn't you?"

"No. It was the law. He died, as I told you, of a frosted lung. At the
last I would have shared my life with him had it been possible.
McDowell must never know that. You must never speak of John Keith
before him."

"I--I understand, Derry."

"And he must not know that we came here. To him John Keith was a
murderer whom it was his duty to hang."

She was looking at him strangely. Never had he seen her look at him in
that way.

"Derry," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Derry, IS JOHN KEITH ALIVE?"

He started. The shock of the question was in his face. He caught
himself, but it was too late. And in an instant her hand was at his
mouth, and she was whispering eagerly, almost fiercely:

"No, no, no--don't answer me, Derry! DON'T ANSWER ME! I know, and I
understand, and I'm glad, glad, GLAD! He's alive, and it was you who
let him live, the big, glorious brother I'm proud of! And everyone else
thinks he's dead. But don't answer me, Derry, don't answer me!"

She was trembling against him. His arms closed about her, and he held
her nearer to his heart, and longer, than he had ever held her before.
He kissed her hair many times, and her lips once, and up about his neck
her arms twined softly, and a great brightness was in her eyes.

"I understand," she whispered again. "I understand."

"And I--I must answer you," he said. "I must answer you, because I love
you, and because you must know. Yes, John Ke