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.
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