“I hope he does turn over a new leaf,” answered Mrs. Bartlett.
The young lieutenant was invited to remain at the Bartletts’ home over night, but could not do so, as it was his duty to return to the troops he had accompanied from Pekin. He had no time off again for two days, when he got a leave of absence for three hours, and went over to the new prison to see how Nuggy Polk was faring.
A change had indeed come over the young man,—a change so startling that Gilbert was almost dumfounded. Nuggy’s face was pinched and white, and there was a look in his eyes which gave him the appearance of being haunted. He stared wildly at the young lieutenant.
“So it was you who saved me?” he said in a strangely unnatural voice. “I can’t believe it!”
“And why not, Polk?” asked Gilbert, as he sat down beside the bed.
“Why not? Why should you save me—after all I did against you?”
“I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking of saving a fellow-being who couldn’t save himself. Not to have done as I did would have been inhuman.”
“You risked your life for mine!”
“Perhaps I did. But let us pass that over, and talk of something else. How do you feel now?”
“I am sick—I was sick before the fire. This climate has knocked out my stomach.”