trees, buried in gloomy reflection. Jo Portugais caught his sleeve.

"Come with me for a moment, M'sieu'," he said. "It is important."

The Abby followed him.




CHAPTER XXXII

JO PORTUGAIS TELLS A STORY

Jo Portugais had fastened down a secret with clasps heavier than iron,
and had long stood guard over it. But life is a wheel, and natures move
in circles, passing the same points again and again, the points being
distant or near to the sense as the courses of life have influenced the
nature. Confession was an old principle, a light in the way, a rest-
house for Jo and all his race, by inheritance, by disposition, and by
practice. Again and again Jo had come round to the rest-house since one
direful day, but had not, found his way therein. There were passwords to
give at the door, there was the tale of the journey to tell to the door-
keeper. And this tale he had not been ready to tell. But the man who
knew of the terrible thing he had done, who had saved him from the
consequences of that terrible thing, was in sore trouble, and this broke
down the gloomy guard he had kept over his dread secret. He fought the
matter out with himself, and, the battle ended, he touched the door-
keeper on the arm, beckoned him to a lonely place in the trees, and knelt
down before him.