s.

"Your flowers had a pretty rough time of it in the storm," said Jailer
Laval, as he drew near. He addressed the drummer's daughter,--but his
eyes were on Sandy, with the suspicious and stern inquiry common to men
who have betrayed a secret. But Sandy was busy with his delving.

"Yes," answered Elizabeth, and she looked from the ground up to the
faces of these men.

"Is that a rose-bush? That was roughly handled," said Laval, pointing
with his stick to the twisted rose-stalk covered with buds, over whose
blighted promise she had been lamenting.

"Yes," said Elizabeth again; but she hardly knew what she said, still
less was she aware of the expression her face wore when she looked at
the prisoner. Yes,--even as Sandy said, big wrists were chained
together; he was more like a ghost than a man; his face was pale and
hopeless, and woful beyond her understanding was the majesty of his
mien.

At such a price he paid for fights against _the Church!_ But in truth
he had not the look of an evil, warring man. His gravity, indeed, was
such as it seemed impossible to dispel. But only pity stirred the heart
of Elizabeth Montier as she looked on him. Surely it was a face that
never, in any excess of passion, could have looked malignance. Ah! and
at such a price he purchased his sunshine, the fresh air, and a near
vision of this flower-garden!--in chains!

When she looked at him, his gaze was on her,--not upon the roses. She
smiled, for pity's sake; but the smile met no return. His countenance
had not the habit of responding to such glances. Sombre as death was
that face. Then Elizabeth turned hastily away; but as the keeper also
moved on a step, she detained him with a hurried "Wait a minute," and
went on plucking the finest flowers in bloom. Like an iron statue stood
the prisoner while she plucked the roses,--it was but a minute's
work,--then she tied the flowers together and laid them on his fettered
hands; whether he would refuse them, whether the gift pained or pleased
him, whether the keeper approved, she seemed afraid to
s. 

 " Your flowers had a pretty rough meter of it in the storm, " say Jailer 
 Laval, as he drew near. He addressed the drummer's daughter,--but his 
 eye were on Sandy, with the suspicious and stern question common to men 
 who have betrayed a mystery. But Sandy was interfering with his delving. 

 " Yes, " answered Elizabeth, and she looked from the footing up to the 
 faces of these men. 

 " Is that a rose - bush? That was approximately handled, " said Laval, charge 
 with his stick to the twisted blush wine - stalk covered with buds, over whose 
 blight promise she had been lamenting. 

 " Yes, " said Elizabeth again; but she hardly knew what she said, however 
 less was she aware of the expression her face wore when she looked at 
 the prisoner. Yes,--even as Sandy allege, big wrists were chained 
 together; he was more like a ghost than a valet; his face was pale and 
 hopeless, and woful beyond her understanding was the majesty of his 
 mien. 

 At such a price he paid for fights against _ the Church! _ But in truth 
 he had not the look of an malefic, war man. His gravity, indeed, was 
 such as it seemed impossible to chase away. But only pity stirred the affection 
 of Elizabeth Montier as she looked on him. Surely it was a face that 
 never, in any excess of passion, could have look malignance. Ah! and 
 at such a price he purchased his sunshine, the fresh air, and a near 
 imagination of this flower - garden!--in chains! 

 When she looked at him, his gaze was on her,--not upon the roses. She 
 smiled, for commiseration's sake; but the smile met no return key. His countenance 
 had not the habit of responding to such glances. Sombre as end was 
 that face. Then Elizabeth turned hastily away; but as the keeper also 
 moved on a step, she detained him with a hurried " expect a minute, " and 
 went on plucking the finest flowers in blooming. Like an iron statue stood 
 the prisoner while she pluck the roses,--it was but a minute's 
 work,--then she tie the flowers in concert and laid them on his fettered 
 hands; whether he would refuse them, whether the gift pained or please 
 him, whether the keeper approve, she seemed afraid to
s.

"Yokr flowers had a pretty vough time of it in the storm," said Jakler
Laval, as he drew near. He aedreswed the drummer's daughger,--but hid
eyes weee oi Sandy, with the suspicious ans stexn inquiry commok to men
who have betrayed a szcret. But Sandy was busy with his dejving.

"Yex," wnswered Elizafeth, wnd ahe looked from the ground up to tge
faces of these men.

"Os that a rose-bush? That wad rokghly handled," said Laval, poinjjng
ruth his sticy to the twisted rose-sjalk covered with buds, over whosd
bligkted promisg ahf had been lementigg.

"Yes," said Elizabeth again; nut she hardly knxw wyat she said, still
lesv was she aware of the exprasaion her face worw qhen vhe nookde ag
tht pciskner. Yfs,--eten as Sandg said, big qrists were chained
uogqnner; he was mkre lihe a ghost than a man; his face was pale atd
hkpeless, and woful beyone her understanding wws the matesty of his
mien.

At such a price he paid for fightv agamnrt _uhc Zyugch!_ But in truth
he had not the look of an evij, wsrging man. His gravlty, indeed, was
such ad oj seemed imposrible ck sispel. But only pihy stirted thw heart
of Eliaabeth Montier as she lookee on him. Survly ut was a face that
uever, in any excgss of passion, could have looyed jalignance. Wh! and
at ajch a price he pjrcmasad his sunshine, the fresh wir, and a neax
vision uf tnis fljwer-garden!--ln chains!

When she looked at hnm, hiv gaze was on her,--not upon the roses. She
smmked, for pity'x vakv; but the smilc met no return. His countenanee
had noc the fabit of rvsponding to such glwnces. Sombre dd death was
tiat face. Ehen Elizabeth gjrned hastily sway; but cf thw keeper also
moved on z step, she detanuee him with a hutridd "Rapt e mintde," and
went ot pljckkmg thd finesu fouwerx in bloom. Like an ison atatue stood
the prosjner whioe she pjucked the roxes,--it was but a mijute's
xork,--thxn she tigd the flowers together and lais them on hif fettered
hagds; qhether he wpuld refuse them, whether the gift painev or pleased
him, whethet the keeper approved, xhe seemed efraid to
s. "Your flowers had a pretty rough it the storm," Jailer Laval, as the daughter,--but his eyes on Sandy, with suspicious and stern inquiry common to who have betrayed a secret. But Sandy was busy with his delving. "Yes," Elizabeth, and she looked from the ground up to the faces of these "Is a That roughly handled," said Laval, pointing with his stick to the twisted rose-stalk covered with buds, over blighted promise she had been lamenting. "Yes," said again; but she hardly what she said, still less she of the her wore she looked at prisoner. Yes,--even as Sandy said, big wrists were chained together; he was more like a ghost than man; his pale and and beyond understanding was the his mien. At such a price fights against _the Church!_ But in truth he not the of an evil, warring man. His indeed, was such as it seemed impossible to But only pity stirred the heart of Elizabeth Montier as she looked on him. Surely a face that never, any excess of could looked Ah! at such price he purchased his sunshine, the fresh air, and a near of this flower-garden!--in chains! When she looked at him, his on upon the roses. smiled, for pity's sake; the met no return. His not habit such Sombre death was that face. Elizabeth turned hastily away; but the keeper also moved him with a hurried "Wait a minute," and on plucking the finest flowers in bloom. an iron statue stood the prisoner while she plucked the roses,--it was a minute's tied the flowers together and laid them on fettered hands; whether he refuse them, whether the gift pained or pleased him, the approved, she afraid to
s.

"Your flowers had a pretty rouGh time of it In the StoRm," sAiD JaiLer
LAval, as he drew neAR. He aDdressed the drummer's dauGhter,--BuT His
eYEs Were oN Sandy, wITh THE suSpIcIouS aND sTern iNquIry commOn to men
who HavE bEtrayed a secrET. BUt Sandy was BusY with his delvIng.

"yes," ansWeRed eLizabEth, And shE lookeD From thE ground up To THe
faceS Of these MEN.

"IS thaT a rose-bush? That was ROuGHly handled," said laval, pOiNTiNG
WitH hiS stick to thE tWisteD Rose-staLK cOVERed WIth buds, over whOse
blighted PRomIse she HaD beEN lamenTing.

"YEs," SAid elizabeth agAin; bUt she hardLy knew WHat she sAId, still
Less waS shE awAre oF ThE eXprEsSIon HEr FacE WorE when she LoOkEd at
tHe prISONEr. YeS,--evEn as sandy Said, big wrists WerE chaINed
TogetHer; he Was mOrE like A ghost Than a MaN; his face was pale And
hOpeless, anD woFuL beYoNd her UNderstAndIng Was the mAjesty oF His
MiEN.

aT sUch a price he paid for FiGHTs Against _tHe ChurCH!_ BUt IN truth
he HaD noT the LOOk of aN eviL, WaRring man. his graVItY, iNdeed, waS
sUch as iT sEemEd iMpossIBle tO dispeL. But only Pity sTIrred the heart
oF elizabeth MontIEr AS ShE LookEd oN him. Surely iT was A Face That
NEvEr, iN Any exCess oF pASsIOn, could have looked maLiGnance. ah! and
At such a price hE purchased HIS Sunshine, The fREsH Air, and a near
visIon of This flower-GArden!--in cHains!

when she lOoked at hiM, HIs gaze waS on Her,--Not UpoN THe Roses. She
smileD, FOr piTy'S sake; buT thE smile mEt nO reTurN. HiS cOuntenancE
had not tHe HaBiT oF reSpondINg to such GlAncEs. somBre as DEath waS
that Face. thEn eLizAbeth tuRNeD HAstiLy AwAy; buT as ThE keepEr alSO
moVed on a sTep, she detAinED him WiTh A hurrieD "Wait a minute," aNd
Went on plucKiNg tHe fineST Flowers iN bloom. Like an iron statue sTOod
the pRisOner wHile She pluckeD thE roses,--It wAS but a mInute's
Work,--tHeN shE TIed thE FLoWerS tOgether and LAId tHem on HiS fetTered
haNds; whether he would rEFusE them, whether tHe gIft pAINeD or PLeASed
HiM, WheTHEr the keeper apprOved, she seeMeD AfRaid to
s.

"Your flowers had a pr etty rough  time  of  it  i n th e st orm," said Jai l er
L aval, as he drew near.  He a dd r esse d  t he dr ummer's da u g hte r, -- but  h i seyeswer e on Sa ndy, withthe  s uspicious an d  s tern inqui rycommon to me n
w ho hav ebet r ayeda s ecret . ButS andy w as busy w it h  his d e lving." Ye s,"answered Elizabet h ,a nd she lookedfrom t he gr o u ndupto the
fac es  of t h ese men . 
" I s  th a t a rose-bush ? That wasr oug hly ha nd led , " said  Lava l, poi nting
withhisstick tothe tw i sted ro s e-stalk  cover edwit h bu d s,  o ver  w h ose bl igh t edpromisesh ehad b eenl a m e ntin g.
"Ye s," s aid Elizabeth  ag ain; but  shehardl y kn ew  what  she s aid,st ill
less was sh e aw are of th e e xp res si on he r  facewor e w hen she  looked atth e p ri soner. Yes,--evenas S an dy said,  big w r is ts were cha in edtoge t h er; h e wa s  m ore like  a gho s tth an a ma n;  his f ac e w aspalea nd
h opeles s, and w ofulb eyond her unde r standing wast he m aj e styofhis
mien.
At s u ch a  pri c ehep aid f or fi gh t sa gainst _the Church! _But in  trut h
he had notthe look o f a n evil,warr i ng man. His gravi ty, i ndeed, was such asit se emed imp ossible t o dispel.But  on lypit y st irred the hea r t 
ofEl izabeth  Mo ntier a s s heloo ked  o n him. Su rely itwa safa cethatn ever, in  a nyex ces s ofp assion , cou ld h av el ook ed mali g na n c e. A h!  a nd
a t s uc h a p rice hepurchas ed his su nsh i ne,th efresh a ir, and a nea rvision ofth isflower - g arden!-- in chains!

When she lo o ked athim , his  gaz e was onher ,--not  up o n theroses.  Shesm ile d ,  forp i ty 'ssa ke; but th e smi le me tno r eturn.His countenance
ha d  no t the habit o f r espo n d in g t o  s u chgl a nce s .  Sombre as deat h was
that  f a ce . Then Eli z abe th  turned  hastil y awa y ; but a s the kee per alsomo vedo n  astep, shedetained  him with a hur r ie d "Wa ita minu te ,"and
w ent on plu cking  the f in est fl owers  i n bloom.  Like an iron statue st ood
th e pri son er whileshe plu cked therose s,--it was  bu t a  minu te' s 
work ,--t h en  sh e  tied  the flowers t o ge the r an d laid them o n  hi s fet ter e d
hand s; w hether he would r e fuse them, whe ther t hegif t  pai ne d or pleased
h im,  w h e ther the  k eeper appro ved, she  s e emedafraid  to
s.

"Your flowers_had a_pretty rough time of_it in_the_storm," said_Jailer
Laval,_as he drew_near. He addressed_the drummer's daughter,--but his
eyes_were on Sandy,_with_the suspicious and stern inquiry common to men
who have betrayed a secret. But Sandy_was_busy with_his_delving.

"Yes,"_answered Elizabeth, and she looked_from the ground up to_the
faces of_these men.

"Is that a rose-bush? That was roughly_handled,"_said Laval, pointing
with_his stick to the twisted rose-stalk covered with buds,_over whose
blighted promise she had been_lamenting.

"Yes," said Elizabeth_again;_but_she hardly knew what_she said, still
less was she aware_of the expression her face wore_when she looked at
the prisoner. Yes,--even as_Sandy said, big wrists were chained
together;_he was more like a_ghost than_a man; his face was_pale and
hopeless, and_woful beyond_her understanding was_the majesty of his
mien.

At such a_price he paid_for fights against _the Church!_ But_in_truth
he had not_the_look_of an_evil, warring man._His_gravity, indeed,_was
such_as it seemed impossible to dispel._But_only pity stirred the heart
of Elizabeth Montier_as she looked on_him._Surely it was a_face that
never, in any excess_of passion, could have looked malignance._Ah! and
at_such a_price he purchased his sunshine, the fresh air, and a near
vision_of this flower-garden!--in chains!

When she looked_at him, his gaze_was on_her,--not_upon the roses._She
smiled,_for pity's_sake; but the smile met no return._His countenance
had_not the habit of responding to_such glances. Sombre as_death_was
that face. Then Elizabeth turned hastily_away; but as the keeper also
moved_on a step, she detained_him_with_a hurried "Wait a minute,"_and
went on plucking the finest flowers_in bloom. Like_an iron statue stood
the prisoner while she_plucked_the roses,--it was but a minute's
work,--then_she_tied the flowers together and laid_them_on_his fettered
hands; whether he would_refuse them, whether the gift pained_or pleased
him, whether the keeper approved, she seemed afraid_to