AT THE PRISON GATES.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 29, Issue 16, 27 February 1917, Page 2

AT THE PRISON GATES.

A GRIPPING LITTLE HUMAN TP 1 GEDY WITH A HAPPY ENDING. Through the morning mist bells and clocks struck and chimed the hour of eight. With a rattle the big gates of the prison opened. And a group of men marched through to taste once more the sweets of the liberty they had temporarily forfeited. Some of them knew the prison whence they had just come like a book. Spells of durance vile were to them mere episodes. And as they trooped out they laughed and jested. At five minutes past eight the prison gates opened again. A solitary figure emerged. Some little formality to be gone through had prevented him joining the rest. Whereof he was glad. His hair was greying at the temples. His broad shoulders sloped slightly. He bore the hall-mark of prison. The haunted look of fear common to the gaol-bird still lurked in the depths of his grey eyes. He was fr§e ; but as yet he was utterly unable to realise it. The long lane which led to the railway, the trams, the ’busses, the .main road, to that busy haunt of civilisation on which he had not gazed for nearly a year,: seemed like a wilderness. And, suddenly, just before the end of it, he paused. With his regained liberty had some a sudden vision of the past. Again he was back in the little suburban villa of which he was so proud. His pretty girl-wife’s voice had just died away in the notes of a song which had charmed him by. its simply-ex-pressed depth ot feeling. WHEN THE BLOW FELL. A maid had entered with the information that a gentleman who would not give his name wanted to see him on important and private business. The blood ebbed from his cheeks. His heart almost stopped heating. No need to tell him what the important private business was. He knew. Knew his defalcations had been discovered —that the hand of the law was opening to grasp him. Followed a' vision of the police court, his plea of guilty, his lame excuse that, having taken the first downward step, the rest was easy. Then the sentence—three months’ hard labour on each of four charges to run consecutively—a year in all.

There was no mitigating circumstance. His position had been well paid. But he was vain, and wanted to be socially superior to his neighbours. His wife should be dressed better than any woman in the crescent. It was very, very small and foolish, but he yielded. They had allowed Mm one brief interview with his girl-wife in the cells after he had been sentenced. It had been a tragic mistake. For she had swooned even as he held out his arms to clasp her. Before she had recovered he had been herded like an animal into the prison van. And he had not heard a word her since. What letters he had been allowed to send her had been returned “Not known.”

What had become of her ? Young, pretty, alone in the world —and the wife of a gaol-bird ! Just one glimmering of hope, and only one, came to him that she might have forgiven him —might even have come to meet him. She could easily have found out the date of his release. But no : he had sinned too deeply for that. What right had he, a thief, to expect fidelity ? He drove the thought of her from him. Heavy as were the odds against him, he would strive might and main night and day to atone for the past. In solitude he would work out his own salvation, and, please God, he would win. Then He reached the end of Prison Lane. On the main road a handsome private motor-car was drawn up at the kerb. On the box a chauffeur, in dark-green livery, sat like a graven image. HIS WIPE’S SECRET.

He glanced idly at the costly equipage. Then the blood rushed to his cheeks. His heart started pounding wildly. For the face peering at him from the motor-oar was the face of his wife ! “Ned—my husband !”

The words came softly from the girl’s red lips. Her tones maddened him and yet served to check his wild thoughts. He had left her without a sovereign. And now

Mutely he obeyed her request to get in. He was too bewildered to do otherwise, And for the moment he was content to accept her hasty assurance that it was all right, and that he need not worry. A block in the traffic caused the motor to slow down.

“Look at that picture, Ned,” she said.

His eyes followed her hand towards a gaily-coloured poster depicting a

bcautnm girl in an attractive dancing pose. It bore the words : "LOLA--THE DANCER. The Greatest Find of the Century. Twice Nightly.” As his brain cleared he grasped what the woman was saying. She—his wife—was Lola —the dancer. While in the chorus where she had gone to earn a living when the smash came she had evolved a wonderful new dance. She had shown it to the manager. In a short time it was all the rage. In six months she was famous. "And yet you came to meet a gaolbird ?’’ he whispered brokenly. "Yes," she replied. "I would havewaited ten years, and kept true to you because—well, because I love you. And that love is going to help you atone for the past. Every man should have a second chance. I have big contracts. I want a manager. But, more than that, I want—my husband.” And thus they began their new life together.