He felt no regret when he was well enough to resume the convict-life, and the chains were put on him once more.

Did he half know that Fay's fetters were heavier than his, that they were eating into her soul, as his had never eaten into his flesh?
When he sent her a message the following spring that he was happy, it was because it was the truth.

Desire had rent him and let him go--at last.

Vague, inconsequent and restful thoughts were Michael's.
His body remained feeble and emaciated.

But he was not conscious of its exhaustion.