named him in his baptism. The good man came hobbling along, book in hand, and seeing how life nickered he would have sent for the Governor, but Rachel forbade him. He read to her, he sang for her in his cracked voice, he shrived her, and then all being over, as far as human efforts could avail, he sat himself down on a chest, spread his print handkerchief over his knee, took out his snuff-box and waited.
Jason stood with his back to the glow of the fire, and his hard-set face in the gloom. Never a word came from him, never a sigh, never a tear. Only with the strange light in his wild eyes he looked on and listened.
Rachel stirred, and called to him.
"Are you there, Jason?" she said feebly, and he stepped to her side.
"Closer," she whispered; and he took her cold hand in both of his, and then her dim eyes knew where to look for his face.
"Good-bye, my brave lad," she said. "I do not fear to leave you. You are strong, you are brave, and the world is kind to them that can fight it. Only to the weak is it cruel—only to the weak and the timid—only to women—only to helpless women sold into the slavery of heartless men."
And then she told him everything—her love, her loyalty, her life. In twenty little words she told the story.
"I gave him all—all. I took a father's curse for him. He struck me—he left me—he forgot me with another woman. Listen—listen—closer still—still closer," she whispered eagerly, and then she spoke the words that lie at the heart of this history.
"You will be a sailor, and sail to many lands. If you should ever meet your father, remember what your mother has borne from him. If you should never meet him, but should meet his son, remember what your mother has suffered at the hands of his father. Can you hear me? Is my speech too thick? Have you understood me?"
Jason's parched throat was choking, and he did not answer.
"My brave boy, farewell," she said. "Good-bye," she murmured again more faintly, and after that there was a lull, a pause, a sigh, a long-drawn breath, another sigh, and then over his big brown hands her pallid face fell forward, and the end was come.
For some minutes Jason stood there still in the same impassive silence. Never a tear yet in his great eyes, now wilder than they were; never a cry from his dry throat, now surging
