Her lips were white, and the words trembled from them one by one. She did not comprehend that this man had given her back to the world.
"It is true," said the matron, weeping the glad, sweet tears of a benevolent heart, "His Excellency has pardoned you. This very hour you are free to leave the prison."
"God help me! Oh! God help me!" cried the poor old woman, looking around at her rude work and seating herself among it. "Where can I go?"
The Governor took some money from his pocket and laid it in her lap. Then he went hastily from the room.
The matron sat down upon the bench, and clasped the withered hand in hers.
"Have you no friend?"
"None."
"No duties left undone?"
The old woman drew herself up. Duties last longer than friends. Yes, she had duties, and God had taken the shackles from her limbs that she might perform them. Freedom was before her and an object. She arose gently and looked around a little wildly.
"I will go now."