Things have gone against me from the start." He paused to get a secure hold on his voice.

"Well, now, I'm going, but I don't want you to forget me; don't pray for me, just _sing_ for me.
I'll hear you, and it'll help keep me out of mischief.

Will you do that ?" "Yes--if you--if it will help----" Jack's voice, unusually loud, interrupted her, and when the father entered, there was little outward sign of the passionate drama just enacted.
"Won't you sing for us, Mary ?" asked Jack a few minutes later.
Mary looked at Harold significantly and arose to comply.

Harold sat with head propped on his palm and eyes fixed immovably upon her face while she sang, If I Were a Voice.

The voice was stronger, sweeter, and the phrasing was more mature, but it was after all the same soul singing through the prison gloom, straight to his heart.