He was told that there were certain forms of procedure, and certain times for certain things, but he hammered persistently away, the murmurings behind him grew louder, while from his sanctum the editor of the Universe thundered away against oppression and high-handed tyranny.  Other papers took it up and asked why this man should be despoiled of his liberty any longer?  And when it was replied that the man had been convicted, and that the wheels of justice could not be stopped or turned back by the letter of a romantic artist or the ravings of a madman, there was a mighty outcry against the farce of justice that had been played out in this man’s case.

The trial was reviewed; the evidence again brought up and examined.  The dignity of the State was threatened.  At this time the State did the one thing necessary to save its tottering reputation.  It would not surrender, but it capitulated, and Berry Hamilton was pardoned.

Berry heard the news with surprise and a half-bitter joy.  He had long ago lost hope that justice would ever be done to him.  He marvelled at the word that was brought to him now, and he could not understand the strange cordiality of the young white man who met him at the warden’s office.  Five years of prison life had made a different man of him.  He no longer looked to receive kindness from his fellows, and he blinked at it as he blinked at the unwonted brightness of the sun.  The lines about his mouth where the smiles used to gather had changed and grown stern with the hopelessness of years.  His lips drooped pathetically, and hard treatment had given his eyes a lowering look.  His hair, that had hardly shown a white streak, was as white as Maurice Oakley’s own.  His erstwhile quick wits were dulled and imbruted.  He had lived like an ox, working without inspiration or reward, and he came forth like an ox from his stall.  All the higher part of him he had left behind, dropping it off day after day through the wearisome years.  He had put behind him the Berry Hamilton that laughed and joked and sang and believed, for even his faith had become only a numbed fancy.

“This is a very happy occasion, Mr. Hamilton,” said Skaggs, shaking his hand heartily.

Berry did not answer.  What had this slim, glib young man to do with him?  What had any white man to do with him after what he had suffered at their hands?

“You know you are to go New York with me?”

“To New Yawk?  What fu’?”

Skaggs did not tell him that, now that the Universe had done its work, it demanded the right to crow to its heart’s satisfaction.  He said only, “You want to see your wife, of course?”

Berry had forgotten Fannie, and for the first time his heart thrilled within him at the thought of seeing her again.

“I ain’t hyeahed f’om my people fu’ a long time.  I did n’t know what had become of ’em.  How ‘s Kit an’ Joe?”

“They ’re all right,” was the reply.  Skaggs could n’t tell him, in this the first hour of his freedom.  Let him have time to drink the sweetness of that all in.  There would be time afterwards to taste all of the bitterness.