"Sir," he said in a strange, broken voice, "you ain't jokin' with me, are you?"
"I could pay you a pound a week; what do you say?"
He tried to speak, but his lips quivered, and he turned his back upon us very suddenly. I tore a page from my pocket-book and scrawled a hasty note to my caretaker.
"Here is the address," I said, tapping him on the shoulder, "You will find no difficulty. I will write again to-night. You must of course have money to get there and may need to buy a few necessaries besides; here is your first week's wages in advance," and I thrust a sovereign into his hand. He stared down at it with blinking eyes, shuffling awkwardly with his feet, and at that moment his face seemed very worn, and lined, and his hair very grey, yet I had a feeling that I should not regret my quixotic action in the end.
"Sir," he faltered--"sir, do ye mean----?" and stopped.
"I mean that to-night 'the bye Jarge' has a chance to make a new beginning, a chance to become the man his father always thought he would be. Of course, I may be a fool to trust you. That only time will show; but, you see, I had a great respect for old Jasper. And, now that you have the address, you'd better go; stay, though, you must have a hat; folks might wonder--take this," and I handed him my cap.
"Sir, I can't thank ye now, I never can. It--it won't come; but----" With a nervous, awkward gesture he caught my hand, suddenly pressed it to his lips, and was gone down the lane.
Thus it was that old Jasper's "bye Jarge" went out to make a trial of life a second time, and as I watched him striding through the moonlight, his head erect, very different from the shambling creature he had been, it seemed to me that the felon was already ousted by the man.
"I 'specks he forgot all 'bout me!" said the Imp disconsolately.
"No," I answered, shaking my head; "I don't think he will ever forget you, my Imp."