Dec. 27th, 1884. 
THE GARDENING WORLD, 
269 
showers of fragrant Eose leaves touched me as they 
seemed to fall and filled my little cell with fragrance ; 
and scores of pleasant memories of bygone days of 
opening buds sprinkled with morning dews of all the 
sweet and beautiful things that graced my garden on 
Appleton Common, of my night-school, of the sturdy 
florists who now held possession of their birthright 
through my influence and example, and of the sweet, 
pure, tender face that hovered about the Eoses in the 
farmer’s garden. 
“ But once and again another voice seemed to reach 
my ear, terrible in its hoarse and hideous tones. It 
would speak to me as I paced the high stone-paved 
galleries. ‘ Fling yourself over, miserable wretch,’ it 
said, ‘ what hope have you to get an honest living ? 
shame and disgrace and infamy you’ve brought on 
all akin to you; jump! What, craven, dare’nt 
you ? ’ 
“ But my sorest trial was the visit of the chaplain. 
His repeated exhortations to confess, and the stern 
implacable resentment with which he regarded my 
protestations of innocence was a frightful ordeal. 
“ Prisoners are not allowed to speak to each other, 
and, owing to the deep shade the prisoners wore that 
concealed the features entirely, it was scarcely possible 
to recognize each other. One prisoner, however, 
seemed very anxious to get next to me in the exercise- 
yard, and as we marched to chapel one morning at 
last he seized an opportunity, and muttered just loud 
enough to be heard, 1 Is your name Drayton ? See 
my wife when you get out, I shan’t live. I'm your 
lodger.’ The man was interrupted by a warder, and 
hurried off to the cells. I saw him once again. One 
morning after being at hard labour for three months 
the rector called to see me, very unwillingly it 
seemed, however. His ostensible purpose was to 
inquire about school matters. He regarded me with 
a stem look of rebuke, making no reference to the 
circumstances of the robbery, except to remind me of 
the frightful example I had set to the boys of the 
school. Such was the terrible influence I had 
exercised over not only them, but my neighbours also, 
that several daring robberies had been committed in 
the neighbourhood lately, and even that respectable 
man, my late lodger, had been charged and convicted 
of burglary, and was now suffering the penalties of 
the law in consequence. Should he pray ? ‘ Yes,’ 
was my answer, 1 pray that I may have patience to 
suffer wrongfully. I’m innocent.’ 
“ ‘ May God forgive you, its awful,’ was his last 
remark, as the warder closed my cell door after him. 
And now the light broke a little, and I saw it all. 
He it was who had committed the robbery, probably 
wearing my boots at the time, and he it was who 
placed the pencil and knife in my drawer.” 
CHAPTEE IV.—THE CLOUDS LIFT. 
“ About a month after the interview with the 
rector, the chaplain was ushered into my cell quite 
unexpectedly. I was requested to follow him, and 
was led directly to the jail hospital. On one of the 
beds lay my late lodger, apparently near his end. He 
had fallen away rapidly since his arrest for breaking 
the prison rules in speaking to me. Turning his head 
a moment towards the little group—the chaplain, the 
governor, the doctor, and myself, who approached his 
bedside—he looked at me steadily for half-a-minute 
with intense earnestness, but was then seized with 
such a violent fit of coughing that the doctor 
remarked upon the danger of allowing him to speak, 
and said we must wait until the following morning. 
The governor touched me on the shoulder as we left, 
glanced at me significantly, and ordered a warder to 
conduct me to my old cell. There, singularly enough, 
were my clothes for which I had exchanged those I 
was wearing. The pockets were examined, and in 
one of them, just as it was when placed there, I found 
the letter with the Eose leaves and texts. But then 
came the fear that the poor lodger might not live till 
morning. Presently the chaplain was again admitted. 
“ 1 And so you know the man.’ 
“ ‘ Yes, sir,’ I replied. 
“ ‘ Do you know that he is a burglar of the most 
dangerous type ? ’ 
“ 1 No, sir, I did not.’ 
“ ‘ Then what do you know of him ? ’ 
“ ‘ He was my lodger, sir.’ 
“ * Good heavens, man, do confess,’ said he, closing 
the door. 
“Next morning, about the same hour—I will not 
pain you with the recital of the terrible anxieties of 
that most fearful of all nights I spent in jail, praying 
God to spare my enemy another day—but the 
morning came at last, and at last came the order to 
follow the warder to the hospital. The chaplain, 
doctor, and governor were already there, the latter 
with portfolio, ink, and pens. 
“ The poor culprit turned his face full on me as I 
approached his bed, and made an effort to move his 
right hand. The chaplain stooped over him and 
asked him in a whisper what he had to say. But he 
shook his head and looked earnestly at me, moving 
his lips meantime. I took his hand and pressed it. 
He then asked to be supported in a sitting posture, 
and, gathering strength by an effort, he said, ‘ Forgive 
me, Mr. Drayton, I did it. There, take it down, 
governor, I did the robbery—at the Bectory—stole the 
plate. I buried it in your garden, I put the pencil 
and knife in your desk, I wore your boots, I told 
all the lies about you. There, let me down. Give’s 
your hand. Can you forgive me ? Will you ? Oh, 
wait! In a little box, under the back kitchen hearth¬ 
stone, is a gold watch I stole from the Bectory some 
months before—that’s all. Thank God, you will! ’ 
and the unwonted tears poured down his ghastly face. 
‘ Now, chaplain, let me sign.’ With great effort the 
poor fellow put his name to the paper and I was free. 
‘ Good-bye, Mr. Drayton, try to see my missus and tell 
her I’ve made a clean breast of it. Pray for me, 
chaplain. God won’t hear a poor lying thief like 
me. The chaplain bent his head as he knelt by 
the bedside. You’ll come again, chaplain, won’t 
you?’ 
“ ‘ I’ll come to-night,’ was the answer. 
“ It was half-past eleven on September 10th as I 
stood for a minute or two at the prison-door. ‘ All 
right, Mr. Drayton,’ said the Governor. ‘ I’m coming, 
here’s the fly. Thought I had better see you back to 
Appleton to explain matters, you see,’ said he, with a 
smile that no prisoner ever saw before, perhaps, on 
that stern face. Some Eose-leaves fluttered past. 
“ ‘ Allow me a bud, sir, will you ? ’ 
“ ‘ Aye, aye, man, take another, you’ll perhaps want 
one to give away,’ said he slily, 
“And so I plucked two buds from the jail garden, 
and we rattled merrily away together along the road 
to Appleton, chatting pleasantly on the way, both 
assured that it was the most glorious September 
morning that we had ever seen. The harvest was still 
in progress, the gossamer webbs floating by on a gentle 
breeze, the reapers’ sickles flashing and glittering 
along the bosom of the standing corn like a huge 
diamond necklace swayed by fairies, and the orchards 
were bending beneath the ruddy and golden fruit. 
Brother Dick here met us as he was going to Beemin- 
ster on horseback. He slackened his pace a moment, 
caught sight of us, and, putting his heels to the grey 
mare’s flanks, turned and outstripped us like the 
wind. As we drove into Appleton the whole village 
was in the streets, shouting and cheering like folks 
demented. A little crowd of sympathizers was 
gathered round the garden-gate there, and all the 
friends I’d lost were found again, except dear Polly, 
her I’d never lost. All through the gloomy days, 
strong in the faith of my innocence, she prayed and 
waited. 
“ Before entering the house, however, the Governor 
whispered in my ear, ‘ The watch, let us go and look 
or it.’ 
“ ‘ Certainly, I had almost forgotten the incident.’ 
“ We proceeded to the school-house, and, after a 
brief search, discovered a watch where the prisoner 
told us it was concealed. This was at once taken by 
us to the Bectory. The reverend gentleman was ill, 
however, when we arrived and in bed. Notwith¬ 
standing, I was asked to step up to his bedroom. He 
put out a great thin hand and shook mine warmly. 
“ ‘ You forgive me, Drayton ? ’ 
“ ‘ Sir, I’ve nothing to forgive, you suspected me, as 
was only natural under the circumstances. But you 
now believe my innocence, I trust ? ’ 
“ ‘ Perfectly, my dear man.’ 
“ ‘ Here, sir, is your watch.’ 
“ A momentary glance of suspicion crossed his face 
as he asked for explanation. I gave it him, and, in 
reply, he said, ‘ Mr. Drayton, keep the watch. I've 
no son, you know; keep it in token of apology for the 
wrong I’ve done you.’ 
“ The Eector refused to take it back. ‘ It’s yours,’ 
he said, ‘ by deed of gift.’ 
“ ‘ This is the watch. You all know it ?’ 
NASTURTIUM EMPRESS OF INDIA. 
