"Stay--stay, my friend," returned the blind man, with a cunninglook, "you travel fast to journeys" ends. Suppose I track my ladyout, and say thus much: "You want your son, ma"am--good. I,knowing those who tempt him to remain among them, can restore himto you, ma"am--good. You must pay a price, ma"am, for hisrestoration--good again. The price is small, and easy to be paid-dearma"am, that"s best of all.""
"What mockery is this?"
"Very likely, she may reply in those words. "No mockery at all," Ianswer: "Madam, a person said to be your husband (identity isdifficult of proof after the lapse of many years) is in prison, hislife in peril--the charge against him, murder. Now, ma"am, yourhusband has been dead a long, long time. The gentleman never canbe confounded with him, if you will have the goodness to say a fewwords, on oath, as to when he died, and how; and that this person(who I am told resembles him in some degree) is no more he than Iam. Such testimony will set the question quite at rest. Pledgeyourself to me to give it, ma" am, and I will undertake to keepyour son (a fine lad) out of harm"s way until you have done thistrifling service, when he shall he delivered up to you, safe andsound. On the other hand, if you decline to do so, I fear he willbe betrayed, and handed over to the law, which will assuredlysentence him to suffer death. It is, in fact, a choice between hislife and death. If you refuse, he swings. If you comply, thetimber is not grown, nor the hemp sown, that shall do him anyharm.""
"There is a gleam of hope in this!" cried the prisoner.
"A gleam!" returned his friend, "a noon-blaze; a full and gloriousdaylight. Hush! I hear the tread of distant feet. Rely on me."
"When shall I hear more?"
"As soon as I do. I should hope, to-morrow. They are coming tosay that our time for talk is over. I hear the jingling of thekeys. Not another word of this just now, or they may overhear us."
As he said these words, the lock was turned, and one of the prisonturnkeys appearing at the door, announced that it was time forvisitors to leave the jail.
"So soon!" said Stagg, meekly. "But it can"t be helped. Cheer up,friend. This mistake will soon be set at rest, and then you are aman again! If this charitable gentleman will lead a blind man (whohas nothing in return but prayers) to the prison-porch, and set himwith his face towards the west, he will do a worthy deed. Thankyou, good sir. I thank you very kindly."
So saying, and pausing for an instant at the door to turn hisgrinning face towards his friend, he departed.
When the officer had seen him to the porch, he returned, and againunlocking and unbarring the door of the cell, set it wide open,informing its inmate that he was at liberty to walk in the adjacentyard, if he thought proper, for an hour.
The prisoner answered with a sullen nod; and being left aloneagain, sat brooding over what he had heard, and pondering upon thehopes the recent conversation had awakened; gazing abstractedly,the while he did so, on the light without, and watching the shadowsthrown by one wall on another, and on the stone-paved ground.
It was a dull, square yard, made cold and gloomy by high walls, andseeming to chill the very sunlight. The stone, so bare, andrough, and obdurate, filled even him with longing thoughts ofmeadow-land and trees; and with a burning wish to be at liberty.
As he looked, he rose, and leaning against the door-post, gazed upat the bright blue sky, smiling even on that dreary home of crime.
He seemed, for a moment, to remember lying on his back in somesweet-scented place, and gazing at it through moving branches, longago.
His attention was suddenly attracted by a clanking sound--he knewwhat it was, for he had startled himself by making the same noisein walking to the door. Presently a voice began to sing, and hesaw the shadow of a figure on the pavement. It stopped--wassilent all at once, as though the person for a moment had forgottenwhere he was, but soon remembered--and so, with the same clankingnoise, the shadow disappeared.
He walked out into the court and paced it to and fro; startling theechoes, as he went, with the harsh jangling of his fetters. Therewas a door near his, which, like his, stood ajar.
He had not taken half-a-dozen turns up and down the yard, when,standing still to observe this door, he heard the clanking soundagain. A face looked out of the grated window--he saw it verydimly, for the cell was dark and the bars were heavy--and directlyafterwards, a man appeared, and came towards him.
For the sense of loneliness he had, he might have been in jail ayear. Made eager by the hope of companionship, he quickened hispace, and hastened to meet the man half way-What was this! His son!
They stood face to face, staring at each other. He shrinking andcowed, despite himself; Barnahy struggling with his imperfectmemory, and wondering where he had seen that face before. He wasnot uncertain long, for suddenly he laid hands upon him, andstriving to bear him to the ground, cried:
"Ah! I know! You are the robber!"
He said nothing in reply at first, but held down his head, andstruggled with him silently. Finding the younger man too strongfor him, he raised his face, looked close into his eyes, and said,"I am your father."
God knows what magic the name had for his ears; but Barnabyreleased his hold, fell back, and looked at him aghast. Suddenlyhe sprung towards him, put his arms about his neck, and pressed hishead against his cheek.
Yes, yes, he was; he was sure he was. But where had he been solong, and why had he left his mother by herself, or worse than byherself, with her poor foolish boy? And had she really been ashappy as they said? And where was she? Was she near there? Shewas not happy now, and he in jail? Ah, no.
Not a word was said in answer; but Grip croaked loudly, and hoppedabout them, round and round, as if enclosing them in a magiccircle, and invoking all the powers of mischief.