‘Mr. Webster, a good minister of the gospel.’
‘He cannot enter, sir, unless by special order of the governor.’
‘It is here.’
‘Then enter and follow me. Write your name and address in this book.’
“He was a big, burly man, and treated Mr. Blackburn with great respect; but he looked hard at me from under his bushy eyebrows, till I bethought me to slip a crown piece into his hand, when he became more civil. He had a bunch of great keys by his side, and they jingled as he walked. We followed him across a courtyard, where there was more unlocking of gates and doors, and at length we were in a stone–flagged corridor with whitewashed walls, and on either side of these the cells. There was a little spy–hole in the door of every cell, through which, I judged, the warders might watch the wretches chained within. Before one door the warder stopped.”
‘This is your man, sir,’ he said, and selecting a key turned the lock and threw open the door. ‘I’ll stand outside, sir.’
“Mr. Blackburn nodded and entered the cell, I at his heels, much daunted by the cold and the gloom. It was a little while ere my eyes got used to the darkness, but as we entered I heard the clank of irons, and was aware of some form in the gloom rising in the corner from under the grated window. It was George; but oh! how altered! he was gaunt and thin, and his eyes that I have known so bright and lit by the joy of life, were dull and fixed in sick despair. I forgot the crime of which he stands charged and saw only a brother, nay, a son, suffering in mortal agony, and all my heart bled for him.”
“Poor George! Poor Matty,” murmured my father, passing the back of his hand over his face, and Faith’s eyes were fixed with pained intentness on the preacher’s face, her lips pale and parted as she held her breath and waited on his every word.
“‘Mr. Webster!’ he cried, for he could see better than I, being used doubtless to the little light. ‘Mr. Webster, oh! this is good of you!’ and he seemed to take no heed of Mr. Blackburn, and as well as he could for the irons that cribbed his arms, he stretched out his hands to me, oh! so wildly and so lovingly, and I took both his hands in mine and must have done tho’ I had seen the deed with my own eyes. And George bowed his head, and tears fell upon our clasped hands that were not wholly his nor wholly mine, and I drew down his head and kissed him on the brow.”
“The good Lord bless yo’,” sobbed Faith.