s placed for him, and the Drummer waited on him,
recommending Pauline's skill again, much as he might have presented a
petition. The prisoner ate little, but he praised Pauline, and said
outright that he had tasted nothing so palatable as her supper these
five years. This cheered Montier a little, but still his spirits were
almost at the lowest point of depression.

"You seem to pity me," remarked the prisoner, when Adolphus was
gathering up the remains of the frugal supper.

"My God!--yes!" exclaimed Adolphus, stopping short, and looking at the
man.

It was a sort of sympathy that could not harm the person on whom it was
bestowed.

"I consider myself well off to-night," said he, quietly. "It is your
little daughter that works in the garden so much? I have often watched
her."

"Yes," said Adolphus, almost with a sob.

"And you are the man whose music has been so cheering many a time?"

"I want to know what airs you like best," said the poor Drummer,
hurriedly.

"I never heard you play one that I did not like."--Precious praise!

"Then you like music? I can be pretty tolerably severe, Sir, if I make
up my mind!" said Adolphus, as if addressing his own conscience, to set
that at rest by this open avowal. "There's no danger of my doing wrong
by the government. I'd have to pay for you with my life. Yes,--for it
would be with my liberty. And there's my wife and child. So you
understand where I am, as I told you before; but, by thunder! you shall
have all the music you want, and all the flowers; and my little girl
can sing pretty well,--her mother taught her. And if you're sick, there
a'n't a better nurse in the hospital than Pauline Montier. There! good
night!"

Adolphus took up the tray and hurried out of the room,--and forgot to
fasten the door behind him until he had gone half way down the stairs.
He came back in haste, and turned the great key with half the blood in
his body burning in his face,--not merely an evidence of the exertion
made in that operation, which he endeavored to perform noiselessly. He
was asham