o
him. There came to him again that bitter sense of having been robbed.

"I could have been so happy all these years," murmured old Nicholas to
himself. "It is just the little town I could have loved--so quaint, so
quiet, so homelike. I might have had friends, old cronies, children of
my own maybe--"

A vision of the sleeping Christina flashed before his eyes. She had come
to him a child, feeling only gratitude towards him. Had he had eyes with
which to see her, all things might have been different.

Was it too late? He is not so old--not so very old. New life is in his
veins. She still loves Jan, but that was the Jan of yesterday. In the
future, Jan's every word and deed will be prompted by the evil soul that
was once the soul of Nicholas Snyders--that Nicholas Snyders remembers
well. Can any woman love that, let the case be as handsome as you will?

Ought he, as an honest man, to keep the soul he had won from Jan by what
might be called a trick? Yes, it had been a fair bargain, and Jan had
taken his price. Besides, it was not as if Jan had fashioned his own
soul; these things are chance. Why should one man be given gold, and
another be given parched peas? He has as much right to Jan's soul as Jan
ever had. He is wiser, he can do more good with it. It was Jan's soul
that loved Christina; let Jan's soul win her if it can. And Jan's
soul, listening to the argument, could not think of a word to offer in
opposition.

Christina was still asleep when Nicholas re-entered the kitchen. He
lighted the fire and cooked the breakfast and then aroused her gently.
There was no doubt it was Christina. The moment her eyes rested on old
Nicholas, there came back to her the frightened rabbit look that had
always irritated him. It irritated him now, but the irritation was
against himself.

"You were sleeping so soundly when I came in last night--" Christina
commenced.

"And you were afraid to wake me," Nicholas interrupted her. "You thought
the old curmudgeon would be cross. Listen, Christina. You paid off
yesterday the last debt your father owed. It was to an old sailor--I had
not been able to find him before. Not a cent more do you owe, and
there remains to you, out of your wages, a hundred florins. It is yours
whenever you like to ask me for it."

Christina could not understand, neither then nor during the days that
followed; nor did Nicholas enlighten her. For the soul of Jan had
entered into a very wise old man, who knew th