〃Then　we　must　get　leave　to　go　inside　the　prison；　and　see　him　before
  he　gets　outside。〃
  After　a　good　deal　of　discussion　this　was　the　plan　they　decided　on
  adopting；　and　having　so　decided；　Theobald　wrote　to　the　governor　of
  the　gaol　asking　whether　he　could　be　admitted　inside　the　gaol　to
  receive　Ernest　when　his　sentence　had　expired。　　He　received　answer　in
  the　affirmative；　and　the　pair　left　Battersby　the　day　before　Ernest
  was　to　come　out　of　prison。
  Ernest　had　not　reckoned　on　this；　and　was　rather　surprised　on　being
  told　a　few　minutes　before　nine　that　he　was　to　go　into　the　receiving
  room　before　he　left　the　prison　as　there　were　visitors　waiting　to　see
  him。　　His　heart　fell；　for　he　guessed　who　they　were；　but　he　screwed
  up　his　courage　and　hastened　to　the　receiving　room。　　There；　sure
  enough；　standing　at　the　end　of　the　table　nearest　the　door　were　the
  two　people　whom　he　regarded　as　the　most　dangerous　enemies　he　had　in
  all　the　worldhis　father　and　mother。
  He　could　not　fly；　but　he　knew　that　if　he　wavered　he　was　lost。
  His　mother　was　crying；　but　she　sprang　forward　to　meet　him　and
  clasped　him　in　her　arms。　　〃Oh；　my　boy；　my　boy；〃　she　sobbed；　and　she
  could　say　no　more。
  Ernest　was　as　white　as　a　sheet。　　His　heart　beat　so　that　he　could
  hardly　breathe。　　He　let　his　mother　embrace　him；　and　then　withdrawing
  himself　stood　silently　before　her　with　the　tears　falling　from　his
  eyes。
  At　first　he　could　not　speak。　　For　a　minute　or　so　the　silence　on　all
  sides　was　complete。　　Then；　gathering　strength；　he　said　in　a　low
  voice：
  〃Mother；〃　（it　was　the　first　time　he　had　called　her　anything　but
  〃mamma〃？）　〃we　must　part。〃　　On　this；　turning　to　the　warder；　he　said：
  〃I　believe　I　am　free　to　leave　the　prison　if　I　wish　to　do　so。　　You
  cannot　compel　me　to　remain　here　longer。　　Please　take　me　to　the
  gates。〃
  Theobald　stepped　forward。　　〃Ernest；　you　must　not；　shall　not；　leave
  us　in　this　way。〃
  〃Do　not　speak　to　me；〃　said　Ernest；　his　eyes　flashing　with　a　fire
  that　was　unwonted　in　them。　　Another　warder　then　came　up　and　took
  Theobald　aside；　while　the　first　conducted　Ernest　to　the　gates。
  〃Tell　them；〃　said　Ernest；　〃from　me　that　they　must　think　of　me　as　one
  dead；　for　I　am　dead　to　them。　　Say　that　my　greatest　pain　is　the
  thought　of　the　disgrace　I　have　inflicted　upon　them；　and　that　above
  all　things　else　I　will　study　to　avoid　paining　them　hereafter；　but
  say　also　that　if　they　write　to　me　I　will　return　their　letters
  unopened；　and　that　if　they　come　and　see　me　I　will　protect　myself　in
  whatever　way　I　can。〃
  By　this　time　he　was　at　the　prison　gate；　and　in　another　moment　was　at
  liberty。　　After　he　had　got　a　few　steps　out　he　turned　his　face　to　the
  prison　wall；　leant　against　it　for　support；　and　wept　as　though　his
  heart　would　break。
  Giving　up　father　and　mother　for　Christ's　sake　was　not　such　an　easy
  matter　after　all。　　If　a　man　has　been　possessed　by　devils　for　long
  enough　they　will　rend　him　as　they　leave　him；　however　imperatively
  they　may　have　been　cast　out。　　Ernest　did　not　stay　long　where　he　was；
  for　he　feared　each　moment　that　his　father　and　mother　would　come　out。
  He　pulled　himself　together　and　turned　into　the　labyrinth　of　small
  streets　which　opened　out　in　front　of　him。
  He　had　crossed　his　Rubiconnot　perhaps　very　heroically　or
  dramatically；　but　then　it　is　only　in　dramas　that　people　act
  dramatically。　　At　any　rate；　by　hook　or　by　crook；　he　had　scrambled
  over；　and　was　out　upon　the　other　side。　　Already　he　thought　of　much
  which　he　would　gladly　have　said；　and　blamed　his　want　of　presence　of
  mind；　but；　after　all；　it　mattered　very　little。　　Inclined　though　he
  was　to　make　very　great　allowances　for　his　father　and　mother；　he　was
  indignant　at　their　having　thrust　themselves　upon　him　without　warning
  at　a　moment　when　the　excitement　of　leaving　prison　was　already　as
  much　as　he　was　fit　for。　　It　was　a　mean　advantage　to　have　taken　over
  him；　but　he　was　glad　they　had　taken　it；　for　it　made　him　realise　more
  fully　than　ever　that　his　one　chance　lay　in　separating　himself
  completely　from　them。
  The　morning　was　grey；　and　the　first　signs　of　winter　fog　were
  beginning　to　show　themselves；　for　it　was　now　the　30th　of　September。
  Ernest　wore　the　clothes　in　which　he　had　entered　prison；　and　was
  therefore　dressed　as　a　clergyman。　　No　one　who　looked　at　him　would
  have　seen　any　difference　between　his　present　appearance　and　his
  appearance　six　months　previously；　indeed；　as　he　walked　slowly
  through　the　dingy　crowded　lane　called　Eyre　Street　Hill　（which　he
  well　knew；　for　he　had　clerical　friends　in　that　neighbourhood）；　the
  months　he　had　passed　in　prison　seemed　to　drop　out　of　his　life；　and
  so　powerfully　did　association　carry　him　away　that；　finding　himself
  in　his　old　dress　and　in　his　old　surroundings；　he　felt　dragged　back
  into　his　old　selfas　though　his　six　months　of　prison　life　had　been
  a　dream　from　which　he　was　now　waking　to　take　things　up　as　he　had
  left　them。　　This　was　the　effect　of　unchanged　surroundings　upon　the
  unchanged　part　of　him。　　But　there　was　a　changed　part；　and　the　effect
  of　unchanged　surroundings　upon　this　was　to　make　everything　seem
  almost　as　strange　as　though　he　had　never　had　any　life　but　his　prison
  one；　and　was　now　born　into　a　new　world。
  All　our　lives　long；　every　day　and　every　hour；　we　are　engaged　in　the
  process　of　accommodating　our　changed　and　unchanged　selves　to　changed
  and　unchanged　surroundings；　living；　in　fact；　in　nothing　else　than
  this　process　of　accommodation；　when　we　fail　in　it　a　little　we　are
  stupid；　when　we　fail　flagrantly　we　are　mad；　when　we　suspend　it
  temporarily　we　sleep；　when　we　give　up　the　attempt　altogether　we　die。
  In　quiet；　uneventful　lives　the　changes　internal　and　external　are　so
  small　that　there　is　little　or　no　strain　in　the　process　of　fusion　and
  accommodation；　in　other　lives　there　is　great　strain；　but　there　is
  also　great　fusing　and　accommodating　power；　in　others　great　strain
  with　little　accommodating　power。　　A　life　will　be　successful　or　not
  according　as　the　power　of　accommodation　is　equal　to　or　unequal　to
  the　strain　of　fusing　and　adjusting　internal　and　external　changes。
  The　trouble　is　that　in　the　end　we　shall　be　driven　to　admit　the　unity
  of　the　universe　so　completely　as　to　be　compelled　to　deny　that　there
  is　either　an　external　or　an　internal；　but　must　see　everything　both
  as　external　and　internal　at　one　and　the　same　time；　subject　and
  objectexternal　and　internalbeing　unified　as　much　as　everything
  else。　　This　will　knock　our　whole　system　over；　but　then　every　system
  has　got　to　be　knocked　over　by　something。
  Much　the　best　way　out　of　this　difficulty　is　to　go　in　for　separation
  between　internal　and　externalsubject　and　objectwhen　we　find　this
  convenient；　and　unity　between　the　same　when　we　find　unity
  convenient。　　This　is　illogical；　but　extremes　are　alone　logical；　and
  they　are　always　absurd；　the　mean　is　alone　practicable　and　it　is
  always　illogical。　　It　is　faith　and　not　logic　which　is　the　supreme
  arbiter。　　They　say　all　roads　lead　to　Rome；　and　all　philosophies　that
  I　have　ever　seen　lead　ultimately　either　to　some　gross　absurdity；　or
  else　to　the　conclusion　already　more　than　once　insisted　on　in　these
  pages；　that　the　just　shall　live　by　faith；　that　is　to　say　that
  sensible　people　will　get　through　life　by　rule　of　thumb　as　they　may
  interpret　it　most　conveniently　without　asking　too　many　questions　for
  conscience　sake。　　Take　any　fact；　and　reason　upon　it　to　the　bitter
  end；　and　it　will　ere　long　lead　to　this　as　the　only　refuge　from　some
  palpable　folly。
  But　to　return　to　my　story。　　When　Ernest　got　to　the　top　of　the　street
  and　looked　back；　he　saw　the　grimy；　sullen　walls　of　his　prison
  filling　up　the　end　of　it。　　He　paused　for　a　minute　or　two。　　〃There；〃
  he　said　to　himself；　〃I　was　hemmed　in　by　bolts　which　I　could　see　and
  touch；　here　I　am　barred　by　others　which　are　none　the　less　real
  poverty　and　ignorance　of　the　world。　　It　was　no　part　of　my　business
  to　try　to　break　the　material　bolts　of　iron　and　escape　from　prison；
  but　now　that　I　am　free　I　must　surely　seek　to　break　these　others。〃
  He　had　read　somewhere　of　a　prisoner　who　had　made　his　escape　by
  cutting　up　his　bedstead　with　an　iron　spoon。　　He　admired　and
  marvelled　at　the　man's　mind；　but　could　not　even　try　to　imitate　him；
  in　the　presence　of　immaterial　barriers；　however；　he　was　not　so
  easily　daunted；　and　felt　as　though；　even　if　the　bed　were　iron　and
  the　spoon　a　wooden　one；　he　could　find　some　means　of　making　the　wood
  cut　the　iron　sooner　or　later。
  He　turned　his　back　upon　Eyre　Street　Hill　and　walked　down　Leather
  Lane　into　Holborn。　　Each　step　he　took；　each　face　or　object　that　he
  knew；　helped　at　once　to　link　him　on　to　the　life　he　had　led　before
  his　imprisonment；　and　at　the　same　time　to　make　him　feel　how
  completely　that　imprisonment　had　cut　his　life　into　two　parts；　the
  one　of　which　could　bear　no　resemblance　to　the　other。
  He　passed　down　Fetter　Lane　into　Fleet　Street　and　so　to　the　Temple；
  to　which　I　had　just　returned　from　my　summer　holiday。　　It　was　about
  half　past　nine；　and　I　was　having　my　breakfast；　when　I　heard　a　timid
  knock　at　the　door　and　opened　it　to　find　Ernest。
  CHAPTER　LXX
  I　had　begun　to　like　him　on　the　night　Towneley　had　sent　for　me；　and
  on　the　following　day　I　thought　he　had　shaped　well。　　I　had　liked　him
  also　during　our　interview　in　prison；