Page 271 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

an exclamation of despair, he started from the posture in
which he was lying. He thrust out his hands to raise himself,
and his fingers came in contact with something soft. He had
been lying at the foot of some loose stones that were piled
cairnwise beside a low-growing bush; and the object that he
had touched was protruding from beneath these stones. He
caught it and dragged it forth. It was the shirt of poor Bates.
With trembling hands he tore away the stones, and pulled
forth the rest of the garments. They seemed as though they
had been left purposely for him. Heaven had sent him the
very disguise he needed.
The night had passed during his reverie, and the first
faint streaks of dawn began to lighten in the sky. Haggard
and pale, he rose to his feet, and scarcely daring to think
about what he proposed to do, ran towards the boat. As he
ran, however, the voice that he had heard encouraged him.
‘Your life is of more importance than theirs. They will die,
but they have been ungrateful and deserve death. You will
escape out of this Hell, and return to the loving heart who
mourns you. You can do more good to mankind than by
saving the lives of these people who despise you. Moreover,
they may not die. They are sure to be sent for. Think of what
awaits you when you return— an absconded convict!’
He was within three feet of the boat, when he suddenly
checked himself, and stood motionless, staring at the sand
with as much horror as though he saw there the Writing
which foretold the doom of Belshazzar. He had come upon
the sentence traced by Sylvia the evening before, and glit-
tering in the low light of the red sun suddenly risen from

0 For the Term of His Natural Life