night, no one near. He forget that some one wait--wait--wait, till he
has suffer long enough, or till, one day, he think he is happy again, and
the Thing he did is far off like a dream--to drag him out to the death he
did not die. He forget that he is alone--all alone in the world, for
ever and ever and ever."

He suddenly sank upon the floor beside Charley, and a groan burst from
his lips. "To have no friend--ah, it is so awful!" he said. "Never to
see a face that look into yours, and know how bad are you, and doesn't
mind. For five years I have live like that. I cannot let any one be my
friend because I was that! They seem to know--everything, everybody--
what I am. The little children when I pass them run away to hide. I
have wake in the night and cry out in fear, it is so lonely. I have hear
voices round me in the woods, and I run and run and run from them, and
not leave them behind. Three times I go to the jails in Quebec to see
the prisoners behind the bars, and watch the pains on their faces, to
understand what I escape. Five times have I go to the courts to listen
to murderers tried, and watch them when the Jury say Guilty! and the
Judge send them to death--that I might know. Twice have I go to see
murderers hung. Once I was helper to the hangman, that I might hear and
know what the man said, what he felt. When the arms were bound, I felt
the straps on my own; when the cap come down, I gasp for breath; when the
bolt is shot, I feel the wrench and the choke, and shudder go through
myself--feel the world jerk out in the dark. When the body is bundled in
the pit, I see myself lie still under the quick-lime with the red mark
round my throat."

Charley touched him on the shoulder. "Jo--poor Jo, my friend!" he said.
Jo raised his eyes, red with an unnatural fire, deep with gratitude.