"It is not true."
"Doomed to a felon's expiation. Think of it. A handsome, high-born, high-spirited, perhaps gifted lad, doomed to a felon's, a convict's fate! Can you not picture him, working in chains, clad in yellow, branded with shame——"
Stella leaned against the door, and hid her face.
"It is false—false!" she moaned; but she felt that it was true.
"From that doom—one—one whom you have lashed with your scorn—stepped forward to save him."
"You?"
"I," he said—"even I!"
She turned to him slightly.
"You did this?"