“No,––never, never again!” But his voice had no sound of contrition in it.
“When you are free––really free––you will try to be what God meant you to be; a real man; good, honest and earnest.”
He moved uneasily, then he got up once more, went over to the window and looked out into the night. He remained with his back to her for some time, and she did not seek to break into his thoughts.
Finally he turned, and, as he leaned against the wall by the door, he gazed at her curiously.
“They nick-named me ‘Silent’ in jail, because I wouldn’t talk,” he said in a husky tone. “God knows!––what inducement had a man to talk––there?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t talk now––but I might feel better if I did, and you cared to listen.”
“Yes, oh yes!––please tell me,” replied the girl earnestly.
“I have never committed any crime against anyone. The only wrong I have done is to myself. Like a fool, I took the blame to save the other fellow, because, oh, because I thought I was better able to––that was all. But that other fellow skulked away, deserted me;––the low coward!”
The man’s voice rose in the quiet of that little bungalow upon the hill where the only other sounds were the ticking of the clock and the quick breathing of an anxious listener.