Page 698 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

ing his grey hair, and beating his throbbing temples with
clenched hands, he reached his own room, and saw, by the
light of the new-born moon, the dressing-bag and candle
standing on the table as he had left them. They brought
again to his mind the recollection of the task that was be-
fore him. He lighted the candle, and, taking the bag in his
hand, cast one last look round the chamber which had wit-
nessed his futile struggles against that baser part of himself
which had at last triumphed. It was so. Fate had condemned
him to sin, and he must now fulfil the doom he might once
have averted. Already he fancied he could see the dim speck
that was the schooner move slowly away from the prison
shore. He must not linger; they would be waiting for him
at the jetty. As he turned, the moonbeams—as yet unob-
scured by the rapidly gathering clouds—flung a silver streak
across the sea, and across that streak North saw a boat pass.
Was his distracted brain playing him false?—in the stern
sat, wrapped in a cloak, the figure of a man! A fierce gust of
wind drove the sea-rack over the moon, and the boat dis-
appeared, as though swallowed up by the gathering storm.
North staggered back as the truth struck him.
He remembered how he had said, ‘I will redeem him with
my own blood!’ Was it possible that a just Heaven had thus
decided to allow the man whom a coward had condemned,
to escape, and to punish the coward who remained? Oh,
this man deserved freedom; he was honest, noble, truthful!
How different from himself—a hateful self-lover, an un-
chaste priest, a drunkard. The looking-glass, in which the
saintly face of Meekin was soon to be reflected, stood upon