Next morning Trove was on his way to Quebec--a long, hard journeyin the wintertime, those days. Leblanc had moved again,--so theytold him in Quebec,--this time to Plattsburg of Clinton County, NewYork. There, however, Trove was unable to find the Frenchman. Aweek of patient inquiry, then, leaving promises of reward forinformation, he came away. He had yet another object of histravels--the prison at Dannemora--and came there of a Sundaymorning late in February. Its towers were bathed in sunlight; itsshadows lay dark and far upon the snow. Peace and light andsilence had fallen out of the sky upon that little city of regret,as if to hush and illumine its tumult of dark passions. Heshivered in the gloom of its shadow as he went up a driveway andrang a bell. The warden received him kindly.
"I wish to see Roderick Darrel,---he is my friend,' said Trove, ashe gave the warden a letter.
"Come with me," said the official, presently. "He is talking tothe men."
They passed through gloomy corridors to the chapel door. Trovehalted to compose himself, for now he could hear the voice ofDarrel.
"Let me stand here a while--I cannot go in now," he whispered.
The words of the old man were vibrant with colour and dramaticforce.
"Night!" he was saying, "the guard passes; the lights are out; yelie thinking. Hark! a bell! 'Tis in the golden city o'remembrance. Ye hear it calling. Haste away, men, haste away.Ah, look!--flowers by the roadside! an' sunlight, an', just ahead,spires o' the city, an' beneath them--oh! what is there beneaththem ye go so many times to see?
"Who is this?
"Here is a man beside ye.
"'Halt!' he says, an cuts ye with a sword.
"Now the bell is tolling--the sky overcast. The spires fall, theflowers wither. Ye turn to look at the man. He is a giant. Seethe face of him now. It makes ye tremble. He is the White Guardan' he brings ye back. Ah, then, mayhap ye rise in the dark, as Ihave heard ye, an' shake the iron doors. But ye cannot escape himthough ye could fly on the wind. Know ye the White Guard? Dearman! his name is thy name; he is thyself; day an' night he sits inthe watch tower o' thy soul; he has all charge o' thee. Make afriend o' him, men, make a friend o' him. Any evening send for me,an' mayhap they'll let me come an' tell thee how."
He paused. Trove could hear the tread of guards in the chapel.They seemed to enter the magnetic field of the speaker and quicklyhalted.
"Mind the White Guard! Save him ye have none to fear.
"Once, at night, I saw a man smiling in his sleep. 'Twas overthere in the hospital. The day long he had been sick with remorse,an' I had given him, betimes, a word o' comfort as well as themedicine. Now when I looked the frown had left his brow. Oh,'twas a goodly sight to see! He smiled an' murmured o' the daysgone. The man o' guilt lay dead--the child of innocence wasliving. An' he woke, an' again the shadow fell upon him, an' hewept.
"'I have been wandering in the land o' love,' he said.
"'Get thee back, man, get thee back,' said I to him.
"'Alas! how can I?' said he; 'for 'tis only Sleep that opens thedoor.'
"'Nay, Sleep doth lift the garment o' thy bitterness, but only foran hour,' said I. 'Love, Love shall lift it from thee forever.'An' now, I thank the good God, the smile o' that brief hour is everon his face. Ye know him well, men. Were I to bid him standbefore ye, there's many here would wish to kiss his hand. Evenhere in the frowning shadow o' these walls he has come into a lando' love, an' when he returns to his people ye shall weep, men, yeshall weep, an' they shall rejoice. O the land o' love! it hath astrong gate. An' the White Guard, he hath the key.
"Remember, men, ye cannot reap unless ye sow. If any would reapthe corn, he must plant the corn.
"Have ye stood of a bright summer day to watch the little people o'the field?--those millions that throng the grass an' fly in thesunlight--bird an' bee an' ant an' bug an' butterfly? 'Tis a landflowing with milk an' honey--but hear me, good men, not one o' themmay take as much as would fill the mouth of a cricket unless hepays the price.
"One day I saw an ant trying to rob a thistle-blow. Now the law o'the field is that none shall have honey who cannot sow for theflower. While a bee probes he gathers the seed-dust in his hairyjacket, an' away he flies, sowing it far an' wide. Now, an ant isin no-wise able to serve a thistle-blow, but he is ever trying torob her house. Knowing her danger, she has put around it awonderful barricade. Down at the root her stem has a thicket o'fuzz an' hair. I watched the little thief, an' he was a long timepassing through it. Then he came on a barrier o' horny-edgedleaves. Underneath they were covered with thick, webby hairs an'he sank over his head in them an' toiled long; an' lo! when he hadpassed them there was yet another row o' leaves curving so as toweary an' bewilder him, an' thick set with thorns. Slowly heclimbed, coming ever to some dread obstruction. By an' by he stoodlooking up at the green, round wall o' the palace. Above him wereits treasure an' its purple dome. He started upward an' fellsuddenly into a moat, full o' sticky gum, an' there perished. Men,'tis the law o' God: unless ye sow the seed that bears it, ye shallnot have the honey o' forgiveness. An' remember the seed o'forgiveness is forgiveness. If any have been hard upon thee,bearing false witness an' robbing thee o' thy freedom an' thy goodname, go not hence until ye forgive.
"Ah, then the White Guard shall no longer sit in the tower."
The voice had stopped. There was a moment of deep silence. Somepower, greater, far greater, than his words, had gone out of theman. Those many who sat before him and they standing there by thedoor had felt it and were deeply moved. There was a quick stir inthe audience--a stir of hands and handkerchiefs. Trove entered;the chaplain was now reading a hymn. Darrel sat behind him on araised platform, the silken spray upon his brows, long and white assnow, his face thoughtful and serious. The reading over, he cameand sat among the men, singing as they sang. The benediction, astir of feet, and the prisoners began to press about him, somekissing his hands. He gave each a kindly greeting. It was likethe night of the party on Cedar Hill. A moment more, and the crowdwas filing away, some looking back curiously at Trove, who stood,his arms about the old man.
"Courage, boy!" the latter was saying; "I know it cuts thee like asword, an' would to God I could have spared thee even this. Look!in yon high window I can see the sunlight, an', believe me, thereis not a creature it shines upon so happy as I. God love thee,boy, God love thee!"
He put his cheek upon that of the boy and stroked his hair gently.Then a little time of silence, and the storm had passed.
"A fine, fine lad ye are," said Darrel, looking proudly at theyoung man, who stood now quite composed. "Let me take thy hand.Ay, 'tis a mighty arm ye have, an' some day, some day it will shakethe towers."
"You will both dine with me in my quarters at one," said thewarden, presently.
Trove turned with a look of surprise.
"Thank ye, sor; an' mind ye make room for Wit an' Happiness," saidthe tinker.
"Bring them along--they're always welcome at my table," the wardenanswered with a laugh.
"Know ye not they're in prison, now, for keeping bad company?" saidDarrel, as he turned. "At one, boy," he, added, shaking the boy'shand. "Ah, then, good cheer an' many a merry jest."
Darrel left the room, waving his hand. Trove and the warden madetheir way to the prison office.
"A wonderful man!" said the latter, as they went. "We love andrespect him and give him all the liberty we can. For a long timehe has been nursing in the hospital, and when I see that he isoverworking I bring him to my office and set him at easy jobs."
Darrel came presently, and they went to dinner. The tinker bowedpolitely to the warden's wife and led her to the table.
"Good friends," said he, as they were sitting down, "there is anhour that is short o' minutes an' yet holds a week o' pleasure--whopan tell me which hour it is?"
"I never guessed a riddle," said the woman.
"Marry, dear madam, 'tis the hour o' thy hospitality," said the oldman.
"When you are in it," she answered with good humour.
"Fellow-travellers on the road to heaven," said Darrel, raising hisglass, "St. Peter is fond of a smiling face."
"And when you see him you'll make a jest," were the words of thewarden.
"For I believe he is a lover o' good company," said Darrel.
The warden's wife remarked, then, that she had enjoyed his talk inthe chapel.
"I'm a new form o' punishment," said Darrel, soberly.
"But they all enjoy it," she answered.
"I'm not so rough as the ministers. They use fire an' the fume o'sulphur."
"And the men go to sleep."
"Ay, the cruel master makes a thick hide," said Darrel, quickly."So Nature puts her hand between the whip an' the horse, an' sleepbetween cruelty an' the congregation."
"Nature is kind," was the remark of the warden.
"An' shows the intent o' the Almighty," said Darrel. "There aretwo words. In them are all the sermons."
"And what are they?" the woman asked.
"Fear," Darrel answered thoughtfully; "that is one o' them." Hepaused to sip his tea.
"And the other is?"
"Love."
There was half a moment of silence.
"Here's Life to Love an' Death to Fear," the tinker added, draininghis cup. "Ay, madam, fill again--'tis memorable tea."
The woman refilled his cup.
"Many a time I've sat at meat an' thought, O that mine enemy couldtaste thy tea! But this, dear lady, this beverage is for a friend."
So the dinner went on, others talking only to encourage the tongueof Darrel. Trove, well as he knew the old man, had been surprisedby his fortitude. Far from being broken, the spirit in him washappy, masterful, triumphant. He had work to do and was earningthat high reward of happiness--to him the best thing under heaven.The dinner over, all rose, and Darrel bowed politely to thewarden's wife. Then he quoted:--
"'Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end.'
"Dear madam, they do hasten but to come as well as to go. Thanksan' au revoir."
Darrel and Trove went away with the warden, who bade them sit awhile in his office. Tinker and young man were there talking untilthe day was gone. The warden sat apart, reading. Now and againthey whispered earnestly, as if they were not agreed, Darrelshaking his forefinger and his head, Trove came away as the darkfell, a sad and thoughtful look upon him.