“Earle! Earle!” she cried, passionately, her face growing white and agonized, “I _cannot_ have it so! Three years! three long, long, wretched years! Oh, if I could only _do_ something! If I could only find those wretches who did the deed for which _you_ must suffer; if—oh, it is too, too cruel!” “Hush, my little friend!” he said, bending nearer and speaking with deep tenderness; “your sympathy is very sweet and comforting to me, but it will unman me if I see you suffer so on my account.” “Then I will be calm. I am thoughtless to wound you, when you have so much to bear already,” she interrupted, choking back the sobs that heaved her breast, and making an effort to be calm. His lip trembled slightly as her blue eyes met his, so full of sympathy and sorrow. “God knows that this _is_ a fearful trial to me,” he went on, drawing a deep breath, to free himself of the choking sensation in his throat; but, trying to speak more hopefully: “I am young, and three years will soon pass. I shall spend them to some purpose, too; and, Editha, with the knowledge of _your_ trust and faith in me, I shall be able to bear them patiently, and I shall come forth from the strange discipline better prepared, I have no doubt, to battle with life than I am at this moment. Every hour that is my own I shall spend in study; and, if _you_ will continue to have faith in me, I promise you shall never have cause to blush to own me as a friend in the future.” “Earle,” Editha replied, quietly, yet earnestly, now entirely self-possessed, “you are just as brave and noble as you can be, and I am proud of you as my friend to-day—now—this moment! I shall think of you every day; I shall _pray_ for you every day; and, if they will let me, I will come once in a while to see you.” “No, _no_; please do not, Edie. I could not bear that _you_ should see me _there_,” he cried, sharply, his face almost convulsed with pain at the thought. “Ah, no—I did not think; but you _would_ not like it; but I want to do _something_ to comfort you and let you know that I do not forget you,” she said, sadly, a troubled look on her fair face. “Will they let me send you things?” she asked, after thinking a moment. “Yes, that is allowed, I believe.” “Then I shall send you something as often as I can; and you will be comforted a little, will you not, Earle, if you know you are remembered?” she asked, anxiously. “Indeed I shall,” he said, deeply touched. “If I receive a flower, a book, a paper, even, I shall be greatly cheered.” “You shall have them. Every week I will send you something, and you will know that there is one true friend who has faith in you,” she said, eagerly. “God bless you, Miss Dalton. You are a little comforter, and my heart is lighter already. I have another friend—your uncle; he has been very kind, and has fought hard for me.”