he poor devil
Dawes had been on the stretcher since seven o'clock this morning."

"You ordered it fust thing, yer honour," said Troke.

"Yes, you fool, but I didn't order you to keep the man there for nine
hours, did I? Why, you scoundrel, you might have killed him!" Troke
scratched his head in bewilderment. "Take his irons off, and put him
in a separate cell in the old gaol. If a man is a murderer, that is no
reason you should take the law into your own hands, is it? You'd better
take care, Mr. Troke." On the way back he met the chaplain, who, seeing
him, made for a by-path in curious haste. "Halloo!" roared Frere. "Hi!
Mr. North!" Mr. North paused, and the Commandant made at him abruptly.
"Look here, sir, I was rude to you just now--devilish rude. Most
ungentlemanly of me. I must apologize." North bowed, without speaking,
and tried to pass.

"You must excuse my violence," Frere went on. "I'm bad-tempered, and I
didn't like my wife interfering. Women, don't you know, don't see these
things--don't understand these scoundrels." North again bowed. "Why,
d--n it, how savage you look! Quite ghastly, bigod! I must have said
most outrageous things. Forget and forgive, you know. Come home and have
some dinner."

"I cannot enter your house again, sir," said North, in tones more
agitated than the occasion would seem to warrant.

Frere shrugged his great shoulders with a clumsy affectation of good
humour, and held out his hand. "Well, shake hands, parson. You'll have
to take care of Mrs. Frere on the voyage, and we may as well make up our
differences before you start. Shake hands."

"Let me pass, sir!" cried North, with heightened colour; and ignoring
the proffered hand, strode savagely on.

"You've a d--d fine temper for a parson," said Frere to himself.
"However, if you won't, you won't. Hang me if I'll ask you again."
Nor, when he reached home, did he fare better in his efforts at
reconciliation with his wife. Sylvia met him with the icy front of a
woman whose pride has been wounded too deeply for tears.

"Say no more about it," she said. "I am going to my father. If you want
to explain your conduct, explain it to him."

"Come, Sylvia," he urged; "I was a brute, I know. Forgive me."

"It is useless to ask me," she said; "I cannot. I have forgiven you so
much during the last seven years."

He attempted to embrace her, but she withdrew herself loathingly from
his arms. He swore a great oath at her, and, too obstinat