nced, until he came to the door of a cell which was
closed, and which he knew from that circumstance was occupied, and
unlocking it, stepped within. He stopped, and throwing around the
light from the lantern, beheld the form of the soldier extended on
some straw spread in a corner, and apparently asleep. Philip was
indeed in a profound slumber. Relieved from the painful incumbrance of
the irons which had prevented his lying down, and kept him
consequently in a constrained posture, he was enjoying a luxury hard
to be realized except by one in a condition as wretched as his own.
Spikeman threw the light full upon his face, but it failed to awaken
him. He only smiled, and muttering something indistinctly, turned upon
his pallet, the irons on his wrists clanking as he moved. The
Assistant stood looking at him awhile, and then pronounced his name,
at first in a low tone, and afterwards louder. Even this did not
banish sleep, and Spikeman was obliged to shake him by the shoulder
before he could be aroused. It was then the soldier, without opening
his eyes, demanded, drowsily, what was the matter. "You waked me,
Bars," he said, "from such a grand dream. I wish you would let me
alone."

"Arouse thyself and look up," said the Assistant. "It is not the
jailer, but a friend, who desires thy good."

"It is Master Spikeman," said the soldier, sitting up and rubbing his
eyes, "but I wish you had not disturbed my dream. I thought I was free
again."

"I came to restore to thee that liberty whereof thou wert only
dreaming."

The soldier, now thoroughly awake, got upon his feet as quickly as his
swollen ankles and the manacles on his wrists would permit.

"Then," said Philip, "all the world hath not deserted me."

"Strange that such a thought could enter thy mind. Who was it, at thy
trial, when the fierce Dudley would have silenced thee, demanded that
thou shouldst be heard? To whom thinkest thou is owing thy release
from thy heaviest chains?"

"I was blind," said the soldier, apologetically, "and this weary
prison must have weakened my brain. But you came to free me. Let us
leave this dismal place."

"I wish it were possible to take thee with me, but that cannot be. Yet
will I so order things that thou mayest be far away and in safety
before the dawn."

"Show me the way; undo these handcuffs, and I will be your bondman
forever. But wherefore," inquired Joy, as if some sudden suspicion
sprung up in his mind, "do you take thi