CHAPTER XLV.
IN THE PRISON.
Near sunset that evening an elderly gentleman was standing with his back against the smaller entrance-door of Stoniton jail, saying a few last words to the departing chaplain. The chaplain walked away, but the elderly gentleman stood still, looking down on the pavement, and stroking his chin, with a ruminating air, when he was roused by a sweet clear woman's voice, saying,
"Can I get into the prison, if you please?"
He turned his head, and looked fixedly at the speaker for a few moments without answering.
"I have seen you before," he said, at last. "Do you remember preaching on the village green at Hayslope in Loamshire?"
"Yes, sir, surely. Are you the gentleman that staid to listen on horseback?"
"Yes. Why do you want to go into the prison?"
