Pippin; A Wandering FlameRichards, Laura Elizabeth Howe
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Pippin; A Wandering Flame
Richards, Laura Elizabeth Howe
Bildungsromans; Ex-convicts -- Fiction; Love stories; Orphans -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
"Looked to be! Well, sir, I don't need to tell you. You began to ask me
about my cell, and was I careful about this, that or the other; all of a
sudden you pulls up and looks at your watch. 'Hello!' you says. 'Ten
o'clock! I've got to go and speak to the Warden about something. Just
watch this money till I come back, will you, Pippin?' And off you go
full chisel, and leave me--"
Pippin's voice broke, and he brushed his hand across his eyes. The
chaplain laid a quiet hand on his shoulder; his own eyes were dim for a
moment.
"And you think Sandy is ready for that?" he said quietly.
"I do, sir!" Pippin straightened his shoulders and threw up his chin
again. "I know for myself that was the devil's last kick. I've never had
no more trouble with him since that day; and I think Sandy's time has
come to find there's somebody trusts him and looks to him to be a
decent chap from now on. Then there's Tom Kidd--but I'm keepin' you,
Elder! Mebbe you was goin' out, sir? Pleasant day like this--"
"I'm keeping you!" The kind hand still on his shoulder, Pippin was
gently propelled toward the door. "Time you were starting, Pippin, since
you are determined to go in this way, without help or company. I'm
coming down with you, and you can tell me about Tom as we go."
Down the stone stairs, talking earnestly as he went, pausing now and
then for the unlocking of an iron door which clanged "good-by" as it
shut behind him; through the narrow corridors whose brick walls shone
with the rubbing of generations of shoulders; through the guard room,
pausing here to shake the friendly hands of a dozen turnkeys, clerks,
attendants, all wishing him good luck, all bidding him not forget them
for they would sure miss him; down the final stairs at last went Pippin,
the chaplain still at his shoulder, through the door behind which he had
left hope three years ago, to find her again on the other side--out into
the air and sunlight, a free man.
Now came the last handclasp--long and firm, saying many things; the last
clear glance of love and trust between blue eyes and brown; the last
word.
"And remember, my son, that wherever you look for the grace of God,
there you will be pretty sure to find it!"
"That's right, Elder!" said Pippin. "Amen! I'll look for it, sure! And
I'll never forget all you've done for me. So long, Elder!"
"Good-by, my son! Good-by, Pippin! The Lord be with you!"
The chaplain stood on the steps, watching the lithe, alert figure as it
strode along the highway; coming to the corner, it turned, waved a
salute and vanished.
The chaplain sighed; he was glad, heartily glad, that Pippin was "out,"
but he would miss him sadly; everybody would miss him. He had been the
sunshine of the place, these six months past. He looked up at the gray
walls, the frowning windows, and gave a little shiver; sighed and
smiled, squared his shoulders, and went back into the prison.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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