r too. He turned her

full to the light, and looked at her.

“She had laid her head upon my shoulder, that night when I

was summoned outshe had a fear of my going, though I had

noneand when I was brought to the North Tower they found

these upon my sleeve. ‘You will leave me them? They can never

help me to escape in the body, though they may in the spirit.’

Those were the words I said. I remember them very well.”

He formed this speech with his lips many times before he could

utter it. But when he did find spoken words for it, they came to

him coherently, though slowly.

“How was this?Was it you?”

Once more, the two spectators started, as he turned upon her

with a frightful suddenness. But she sat perfectly still in his grasp,

and only said, in a low voice, “I entreat you, good gentlemen, do

not come near us, do not speak, do not move!”

“Hark” he exclaimed. “Whose voice was that?”

His hands released her as he uttered this cry, and went up to

his white hair, which they tore in a frenzy. It died out, as

everything but his shoemaking did die out of him, and he refolded

his little packet and tried to secure it in his breast; but he still

looked at her, and gloomily shook his head.

“No, no, no; you are too young, too blooming. It can’t be. See

what the prisoner is. These are not the hands she knew, this is not

the face s