of God’s mercy.  Never, so long as I live, shall an ill word of them go unrebuked in my hearing.  He left me at 10.30, and as he went away, my jailer banged the iron door without locking it.  Then I lay down there in the dark, and began to tell off the time by my heartbeats, allowing forty-five hundred to the hour, and was not far wrong.  I thought much of his Lordship as I waited.  To him I had been of some service, but, surely, not enough to explain this tender regard, involving, as it must have done, bribery and no small degree of peril to himself.  My counting over, I tried the door, which swung easily as I put my hand upon it, The little corridor was dark and I could hear no sound save the snoring of a drunken soldier, committed that day for fighting, as the turnkey had told me.  I found the small window, and slid the sash, and let my boots fall to the ground, then climbing through and dropping on them.  It was a dark night, but I was not long in reaching the road and pacing my way to the path and river.  His Lordship and a boatman lay in the thicket waiting for me.

“This way,” the former whispered, taking my arm and leading me to the mouth of a little brook, where a boat was tied, the bottom muffled with blankets.  I took the stern seat, his Lordship the bow, and we pushed off.  The boatman, a big, husky fellow, had been rowing a long hour when we put into a cove under the high shore of an island.  I could see a moving glow back in the bushes.  It swung slowly, like a pendulum of light, with a mighty flit and tumble of shadows.  We tied our boat, climbed the shore, and made slowly for the light.  Nearing it, his Lordship whistled twice, and got answer.  The lantern was now still; it lighted the side of a soldier in high boots; and suddenly I saw it was D’ri.  I caught his hand, raising it to my lips.  We could not speak, either of us.  He stepped aside, lifting the lantern.  God! there stood Louise.  She was all in black, her head bent forward.

“Dear love!” I cried, grasping her hands, “why—­why have you come here?”

She turned her face away, and spoke slowly, her voice trembling with emotion.

“To give my body to be burned,” said she.

I turned, lifting my arm to smite the man who had brought me there; but lo! some stronger hand had struck him, some wonder-working power of a kind that removes mountains.  Lord Ronley was wiping his eyes.

“I cannot do this thing,” said he, in a broken voice.  “I cannot do this thing.  Take her and go.”

D’ri had turned away to hide his feelings.

“Take them to your boat,” said his Lordship.

“Wait a minute,” said D’ri, fixing his lantern.  “Judas Priest!  I ain’t got no stren’th.  I ‘m all tore t’ shoe-strings.”

I took her arm, and we followed D’ri to the landing.  Lord Ronley coming with us.

“Good-by,” said he, leaning to push us off.  “I am a better man for knowing you.  Dear girl, you have put all the evil out of me.”