sentry near the gate brought his rifle to the shoulder, and in a
warning voice called out to the fleeing convict; but the latter failed
to hear the warning. There was a puff of smoke, a sharp report, and
convict 317 was seen to throw up his arms and fall.

When the guards reached the spot where they thought he had fallen, he
was nowhere to be seen. They took a few steps forward and looked down
the incline: there he was at the bottom, with his head resting on the
bosom of a young girl, in strange array.

They sprang down and raised him--he would never occupy his cell again!

As the guards stooped wonderingly over the form of the girl, they
failed to see in the distance the rapid approach of a carriage, which
had passed the gate and was close upon them. Just as they were about
to summon the convicts to carry the bodies into the yard, the carriage
stopped, and she who had prayed so fervently for the lifeless ones,
and had tried so hard to believe, sprang out and ran to where they
were lying. Clasping her arms about them, she wept, and kissed them
passionately.

"I am too late, too late!" she moaned in an agony of grief.

The Little Mother had instinctively known the road Marie had taken,
and the moment consciousness returned to her in the bedroom, she had
called a carriage and set out at once after her. The driver had driven
furiously; his horse was covered with foam, but to no avail; Marie was
near her sad journey's end when they started.

At first the guards were inclined to push the old creature away, but