on and peace, turned over the leaves of the Bible only to find
himself threatened with "the pains of Hell", "the never-dying worm",
"the unquenchable fire", "the bubbling brimstone", the "bottomless pit",
from out of which the "smoke of his torment" should ascend for ever and
ever. Before his eyes was held no image of a tender Saviour (with hands
soft to soothe, and eyes brimming with ineffable pity) dying crucified
that he and other malefactors might have hope, by thinking on such
marvellous humanity. The worthy Pharisee who was sent to him to teach
him how mankind is to be redeemed with Love, preached only that harsh
Law whose barbarous power died with the gentle Nazarene on Calvary.

Repelled by this unlooked-for ending to his hopes, he let the book fall
to the ground. "Is there, then, nothing but torment for me in this world
or the next?" he groaned, shuddering. Presently his eyes sought his
right hand, resting upon it as though it were not his own, or had some
secret virtue which made it different from the other. "He would not
have done this? He would not have thrust upon me these savage judgments,
these dreadful threats of Hell and Death. He called me 'Brother'!" And
filled with a strange wild pity for himself, and yearning love towards
the man who befriended him, he fell to nursing the hand on which North's
tears had fallen, moaning and rocking himself to and fro.

Meekin, in the morning, found his pupil more sullen than ever.

"Have you learned these texts, my man?" said he, cheerfully, willing not
to be angered with his uncouth and unpromising convert.

Rufus Dawes pointed with his foot to the Bible, which still lay on the
floor as he had left it the night before. "No!"

"No! Why not?"

"I would learn no such words as those. I would rather forget them."

"Forget them! My good man, I--"

Rufus Dawes sprang up in sudden wrath, and pointing to his cell door
with a gesture that--chained and degraded as he was--had something of
dignity in it, cried, "What do you know about the feelings of such as
I? Take your book and yourself away. When I asked for a priest, I had no
thought of you. Begone!"

Meekin, despite the halo of sanctity which he felt should surround him,
found his gentility melt all of a sudden. Adventitious distinctions had
disappeared for the instant. The pair had become simply man and man,
and the sleek priest-master quailing before the outraged manhood of the
convict-penitent, picked up his Bi