d
up, still in the convict garb, the bag untouched.

'I beg your pardon,' he said, when his friend's exclamation had
reminded him of what had been desired of him; and in a few minutes he
reappeared in the ordinary dress of a gentleman, but the change did not
seem to have made him realize his freedom--there was the same
submissive manner, the same conventional gesture of respect in reply to
the chaplain's warm congratulation.

'Come, Leonard, I am always missing the boat, but I don't want to do so
now. We must get home to-night. Have you anything to take with you?'

'My Bible and Prayer-Book. They are my own, sir;' as he turned to the
governor. 'May I go to my cell for them?'

Again they tarried long for him, and became afraid that he had fallen
into another reverie; but going to fetch him, found that the delay was
caused by the farewells of all who had come in his way. The tidings of
his full justification had spread, and each official was eager to wish
him good speed, and thank him for the aid of his example and support.
The schoolmaster, who had of late treated him as a friend, kept close
to him, rejoicing in his liberation, but expecting to miss him sorely;
and such of the convicts as were within reach, were not without their
share in the general exultation. He had never galled them by his
superiority; and though Brown, the clerk, had been his only friend, he
had done many an act of kindness; and when writing letters for the
unlearned, had spoken many a wholesome simple word that had gone home
to the heart. His hand was as ready for a parting grasp from a
fellow-prisoner as from a warder; and his thought and voice were
recalled to leave messages for men out of reach; his eyes moistened at
the kindly felicitations; but when he was past the oft-trodden
precincts of the inner court and long galleries, the passiveness
returned, and he received the last good-byes of the governor and
superior officers, as if only half alive to their import. And thus,
silent, calm, and grave, his composure like that of a man walking in
his sleep, did Leonard Ward pass the arched gateway, enter on the outer
world, and end his three and a half years of penal servitude.

'I'm less like an angel than he is like St. Peter,' thought Dr. May, as
he watched the fixed dreamy gaze, 'but this is like "yet wist he not
that it was true, but thought he saw a vision." When will he realize
liberty, and enjoy it? I shall do him a greater kind