The Man Behind the Bars

by Winifred Louise Taylor

But I had taken the alarm, for clearly the man was breaking down, and I urged the warden to give him a change of work. The warden said he had tried to arrange that; but Evans was on contract work, one of the best men in the shop, and the contractors were unwilling to give up so profitable a workman—the evils of the contract system have much to answer for. So Evans continued to work on the contract, and the prison blight progressed and the man's vitality was steadily drained. When the next winter came and la grippe invaded the prison, the resisting power of Evans was sapped; and when attacked by the disease he was relegated to the prison hospital to recuperate. He did not recuperate; on the contrary, various symptoms of general physical deterioration appeared and it was evident that his working days on the prison contract were over.

A renewed attempt was now made to procure the release of Evans, as his broken health furnished a reason for urgency toward immediate action on the part of the governor, and this last attempt was successful. The good news was sent to Evans that in a month he would be a free man, and I was at the prison soon after the petition was granted. I knew that Evans was in the hospital, but had not been informed of his critical condition until the hospital physician told me that serious heart trouble had developed, intensified by excitement over the certainty of release.

No shadow of death was visible or was felt in this my last visit with Evans, who was dressed and sitting up when I went in to see him. Never, never have I seen any one so happy as was Evans that morning. With heart overflowing with joy and with gratitude, his face was radiant with delight. All the old animation was kindled again, and the voice, no longer lifeless, was colored and warm with feeling.

"I want to thank everybody," he said, "the governor, my lawyers, the warden, and you. Everybody has been so good to me these last weeks. And I shall be home for next Sunday. My sister is coming to take me to her home, and she and my mother will take care of me until I'm able to work. Sister writes me that mother can't sit still, but walks up and down the room in her impatience to see me."

We two friends, who had clasped hands in the darkness of his fate, were together now when the dawn of his freedom was breaking, neither of us realizing that it was to be the greater freedom of the Life Invisible.

To us both, however, this hour was the beautiful culmination of our years of friendship. I read the man's heart as if it were an open book and it held only good will toward all the world.

Something moved me to speak to him as I had never spoken to one of my prisoners, to try and make him feel my appreciation of his courage, his unselfishness, his faithfulness. I told him that I realized how he had lived out the qualities of the most heroic soldier. To give one's life for one's country when the very air is charged with the spirit of patriotism is a fine thing and worthy of the thrill of admiration which it always excites. But liberty is dearer than life, and the prison atmosphere gives little inspiration to knightly deeds. This man had risen above himself into that higher region of moral victory. And so I said what was in my heart, while something deeper than happiness came into Evans's face.

And then we said good-by, smiling into each other's eyes. This happened, I think, on the last day but one of Evans's life.