came to him again that bitter sense of having been robbed.
"I could have been so happy all these years," murmured old Nicholas to himself. "It is just the little town I could have loved--so quaint, so quiet, so homelike. I might have had friends, old cronies, children of my own maybe--"
A vision of the sleeping Christina flashed before his eyes. She had come to him a child, feeling only gratitude towards him. Had he had eyes with which to see her, all things might have been different.
Was it too late? He is not so old--not so very old. New life is in his veins. She still loves Jan, but that was the Jan of yesterday. In the future, Jan's every word and deed will be prompted by the evil soul that was once the soul of Nicholas Snyders--that Nicholas Snyders remembers well. Can any woman love that, let the case be as handsome as you will?
Ought he, as an honest man, to keep the soul he had won from Jan by what might be called a trick? Yes, it had been a fair bargain, and Jan had taken hi
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