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Grip？’
The raven gave a short； dull； melancholy croak。 It said
‘Nobody；’ as plainly as a croak could speak。
‘Who cares for Grip； except you and me？’ said Barnaby；
smoothing the bird’s rumpled feathers with his hand。 ‘He never
speaks in this place； he never says a word in jail； he sits and mopes
all day in his dark corner； dozing sometimes； and sometimes
looking at the light that creeps in through the bars； and shines in
his bright eye as if a spark from those great fires had fallen into
the room and was burning yet。 But who cares for Grip？’
The raven croaked again—Nobody。
‘And by the way；’ said Barnaby； withdrawing his hand from the
bird； and laying it upon his mother’s arm； as he looked eagerly in
her face； ‘if they kill me—they may： I heard it said they would—
what will become of Grip when I am dead？’
The sound of the word； or the current of his own thoughts；
suggested to Grip his old phrase ‘Never say die！’ But he stopped
short in the middle of it； drew a dismal cork； and subsided into a
faint croak； as if he lacked the heart to get through the shortest
sentence。
‘Will they take his life as well as mine？’ said Barnaby。 ‘I wish
they would。 If you and I and he could die together； there would be
none to feel sorry； or to grieve for us。 But do what they will； I don’t
fear them； mother！’
‘They will not harm you；’ she said； her tears choking her
utterance。 ‘They never will harm you； when they know all。 I am
sure they never will。’
‘Oh！ Don’t be too sure of that；’ cried Barnaby； with a strange
pleasure in the belief that she was self…deceived； and in his own
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sagacity。 ‘They have marked me from the first。 I heard them say so
to each other when they brought me to this place last night； and I
believe them。 Don’t you cry for me。 They said that I was bold； and
so I am； and so I will be。 You may think that I am silly； but I can
die as well as another。—I have done no harm； have I？’ he added
quickly。
‘None before Heaven；’ she answered。
‘Why then；’ said Barnaby； ‘let them do their worst。 You told me
once—you—when I asked you what death meant； that it was
nothing to be feared； if we did no harm—Aha！ mother； you
thought I had forgotten that！’
His merry laugh and playful manner smote her to the heart。
She drew him closer to her； and besought him to talk to her in
whispers and to be very quiet； for it was getting dark； and their
time was short； and she would soon have to leave him for the
night。
‘You will come to…morrow？’ said Barnaby。
Yes。 And every day。 And they would never part again。
He joyfully replied that this was well； and what he wished； and
what he had felt quite certain she would tell him； and then he
asked her where she had been so long； and why she had not come
to see him when he had been a great soldier； and ran through the
wild schemes he had had for their being rich and living
prosperously； and with some faint notion in his mind that she was
sad and he had made her so； tried to console and comfort her； and
talked of their former life and his old sports and freedom： little
dreaming that every word he uttered only increased her sorrow；
and that her tears fell faster at the freshened recollection of their
lost tranquillity。
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‘Mother；’ said Barnaby； as they heard the man approaching to
close the cells for the night；’ when I spoke to you just now about
my father you cried “Hush！” and turned away your head。 Why did
you do so？ Tell me why； in a word。 You thought he was dead。 You
are not sorry that he is alive and has come back to us。 Where is
he？ Here？’
‘Do not ask any one where he is； or speak about him；’ she made
answer。
‘Why not？’ said Barnaby。 ‘Because he is a stern man； and talks
roughly？ Well！ I don’t like him； or want to be with him by myself；
but why not speak about him？’
‘Because I am sorry that he is alive； sorry that he has come
back； and sorry that he and you have ever met。 Because； dear
Barnaby； the endeavour of my life has been to keep you two
asunder。’
‘Father and son asunder！ Why？’
‘He has；’ she whispered in his ear； ‘he has shed blood。 The time
has come when you must know it。 He has shed the blood of one
who loved him well； and trusted him； and never did him wrong in
word or deed。’
Barnaby recoiled in horror； and glancing at his stained wrist for
an instant； wrapped it； shuddering； in his dress。
‘But；’ she added hastily as the key turned in the lock； ‘although
we shun him； he is your father； dearest； and I am his wretched
wife。 They seek his life； and he will lose it。 It must not be by our
means； nay； if we could win him back to penitence； we should be
bound to love him yet。 Do not seem to know him； except as one
who fled with you from the jail； and if they question you about
him； do not answer them。 God be with you through the night； dear
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boy！ God be with you！’
She tore herself away； and in a few seconds Barnaby was alone。
He stood for a long time rooted to the spot； with his face hidden in
his hands； then flung himself； sobbing； on his miserable bed。
But the moon came slowly up in all her gentle glory； and the
stars looked out； and through the small compass of the grated
window； as through the narrow crevice of one good deed in a
murky life of guilt； the face of Heaven shone bright and merciful。
He raised his head； gazed upward at the quiet sky； which seemed
to smile upon the earth in sadnes