at Leonard's reckless hacking at
his bright shining wavy hair, pulling out more than he cut, with
perfect indifference to the pain. The Doctor stroked the chestnut head
as tenderly as if it had been Gertrude's sunny curls, but Leonard
started aside, and dashing away the tears that were overflowing his
eyes under the influence of the gentle action, asked vigorously, 'Have
you heard what they will do with me?'

'I do not know thoroughly. A year or six months maybe at one of the
great model establishments, then probably you will be sent to some of
the public works,' said the Doctor, sadly. 'Yes, it is a small boon to
give you life, and take away all that makes life happy.'

'If it were only transportation!'

'Yes. In a new world you could live it down, and begin afresh. And
even here, Leonard, I look to finding you like Joseph in his prison.'

'The iron entering into his soul!' said Leonard, with a mournful smile.

'No; in the trustworthiness that made him honoured and blessed even
there. Leonard, Leonard, conduct _will_ tell. Even there, you can
live this down, and will!'

'Eighteen to-morrow,' replied the boy. 'Fifty years of it, perhaps! I
know God can help me through with it, but it is a long time to be
patient!'

By way of answer, the Doctor launched into brilliant auguries of the
impression the prisoner's conduct would produce, uttering assurances,
highly extravagant in his Worship the Mayor, of the charms of the
modern system of prison discipline, but they fell flat; there could be
no disguising that penal servitude for life was penal servitude for
life, and might well be bitterer than death itself. Sympathy might
indeed be balm to the captive, but the good Doctor pierced his own
breast to afford it, so that his heart sank even more than when he had
left the young man under sentence of death. His least unavailing
consolations were his own promises of frequent visits, and Aubrey's of
correspondence, but they produced more of dejected gratitude than of
exhilaration. Yet it was not in the way of murmur or repining, but
rather of 'suffering and being strong,' and only to this one friend was
the suffering permitted to be apparent. To all the officials he was
simply submissive and gravely resolute; impassive if he encountered
sharpness or sternness, but alert and grateful towards kindliness, of
which he met more and more as the difference between dealing with him
and the ordinary prisoners made itself