infinite appeal in her eyes.

He did not quite understand. He thought that perhaps she meant Jo, and
he glanced towards the door; but she kept her eyes on him, and they told
him that she meant himself. He chilled, as though ether were being
poured through his veins.

Did the world know, then, that Charley Steele was alive? Was the law
sending its officers to seize the embezzler, the ruffian who had robbed
widow and orphan?

If it were so. . . . To go back to the world whence he came, with the
injury he must do to others, and the punishment also that he must suffer,
if he did not tell the truth about Billy! And Chaudiere, which, in spite
of all, was beginning to have a real belief in him--where was his
contempt for the world now! . . . And Rosalie, who trusted him--
this new element rapidly grew dominant in his thoughts-to be the common
criminal in her eyes!

His paleness gave way to a flush as like her own as could be.

"You mean me?" he asked quietly.

She had thought that his flush meant anger, and she was surprised at the
quiet tone. She nodded assent. "For what crime?" he asked.

"For stealing."

His heart seemed to stand still. Then, it had come in spite of all it
had come. Here was his resurrection, and the old life to face.