"Elvin," whispered Molly, sharply. "O Elvin, I can't bear it! You take
what money you've got, an' go as fur as you can. Then you work, an'
I'll work, an' we'll pay 'em back. What good will it do, for you to go
to jail? Oh, what good will it do!"

"Poor little Molly!" said he. "You do care about me, don't you? I
sha'n't forget that, wherever I am."

Molly came forward, and threw her arms about him passionately.

"Go! go!" she whispered, fiercely. "Go now! I'll drive you some'er's
an' bring the horse back. Don't wait! I don't want a hat."

Elvin smoothed her hair.

"No," said he, gravely, "you'll see it different, come mornin'. The
things of this world ain't everything. Even freedom ain't everything.
There's somethin' better. Good-by, Molly. I don't know how long a
sentence they give; but when they let me out, I shall come an' tell you
what I think of you for standin' by. Parson True!"

The parson came out, and Dilly followed. When the two men were seated
in the wagon, she bent forward, and laid her hand on Elvin's, as it
held the reins.

"Don't you be afraid," she said, lovingly. "If they shet ye up, you
remember there ain't nothin' to be afraid of but wrong-doin', an'
that's only a kind of a sickness we al'ays git well of. An' God
A'mighty's watchin' over us all the time. An' if you've sp'iled your