To-morrow--bathe my limbs in odors, and put ointment in my hair."

"Has for a bath," Snoggin interposed, "they're not to be 'ad in this
ward of the prison; but I dussay Hemmy will git you a little hoil for
your 'air."

The Prisoned One laughed loud and merrily. "My guardian understands
me not, pretty one--and thou? what sayest thou? From those dear lips
methinks--plura sunt oscula quam sententiae--I kiss away thy tears,
dove!--they will flow apace when I am gone, then they will dry, and
presently these fair eyes will shine on another, as they have beamed on
poor George Barnwell. Yet wilt thou not all forget him, sweet one. He
was an honest fellow, and had a kindly heart for all the world said--"

"That, that he had," cried the gaoler and the girl in voices gurgling
with emotion. And you who read! you unconvicted Convict--you murderer,
though haply you have slain no one--you Felon in posse if not in
esse--deal gently with one who has used the Opportunity that has failed
thee--and believe that the Truthful and the Beautiful bloom sometimes in
the dock and the convict's tawny Gabardine!

*****

In the matter for which he suffered, George could never be brought to
acknowledge that he was at all in the wrong. "It may be an error of
judgment," he said to the Venerable Chaplain of the gaol, "but it is no
crime. Were it Crime, I should feel Remorse. Where there is no remorse,
Crime cannot exist. I am not sorry: therefore, I am innocent. Is the
proposition a fair one?"