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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； and wanted to see more of him；
so that I might make up my mind about him。 I had lived long enough
to know that some men who do great things in the end are not very
wise when they are young； knowing that he would leave prison on the
30th； I had expected him； and； as I had a spare bedroom； pressed him
to stay with me； till he could make up his mind what he would do。
Being so much older than he was； I anticipated no trouble in getting
my own way； but he would not hear of it。 The utmost he would assent
to was that he should be my guest till he could find a room for
himself； which he would set about doing at once。
He was still much agitated； but grew better as he ate a breakfast；
not of prison fare and in a comfortable room。 It pleased me to see
the delight he took in all about him； the fireplace with a fire in
it； the easy chairs； the Times； my cat； the red geraniums in the
window； to say nothing of coffee； bread and butter； sausages；
marmalade； etc。 Everything was pregnant with the most exquisite
pleasure to him。 The plane trees were full of leaf still； he kept
rising from the breakfast table to admire them； never till now； he
said； had he known what the enjoyment of these things really was。
He ate； looked； laughed and cried by turns； with an emotion which I
can neither forget nor describe。
He told me how his father and mother had lain in wait for him； as he
was about to leave prison。 I was furious； and applauded him
heartily for what he had done。 He was very grateful to me for this。
Other people； he said； would tell him he ought to think of his
father and mother rather than of himself； and it was such a comfort
to find someone who saw things as he saw them himself。 Even if I
had differed from him I should not have said so； but I was of his
opinion； and was almost as much obliged to him for seeing things as
I saw them； as he to me for doing the same kind office by himself。
Cordially as I disliked Theobald and Christina； I was in such a
hopeless minority in the opinion I had formed concerning them that
it was pleasant to find someone who agreed with me。
Then there came an awful moment for both of us。
A knock； as of a visitor and not a postman； was heard at my door。
〃Goodness gracious；〃 I exclaimed； 〃why didn't we sport the oak？
Perhaps it is your father。 But surely he would hardly come at this
time of day！ Go at once into my bedroom。〃
I went to the door； and； sure enough； there were both Theobald and
Christina。 I could not refuse to let them in and was obliged to
listen to their version of the story； which agreed substantially
with Ernest's。 Christina cried bitterlyTheobald stormed。 After
about ten minutes； during which I assured them that I had not the
faintest conception where their son was； I dismissed them both。 I
saw they looked suspiciously upon the manifest signs that someone
was breakfasting with me； and parted from me more or less defiantly；
but I got rid of them； and poor Ernest came out again； looking
white； frightened and u