mother gave it out in church that her heart
was broken, and she wrote a letter to David
begging him to reform. She said she
would never cease to pray for him, that
he might return to grace. He had an
attorney, an impecunious and very aged
gentleman, whose life was a venerable
failure, and who talked so much about his
personal inconveniences from indigestion
that he forgot to take a very keen interest
in the concerns of his client. David's trial
made no sensation. He did not even have
the cheap sympathy of the morbid. The
court-room was almost empty the dull
spring day when the east wind beat against
the window, jangling the loose panes all
through the reading of the verdict.

Twenty years!

Twenty years in the penitentiary!

David looked up at the judge and smiled.
Men have been known to smile that way
when the car-wheel crashes over their legs,
or a bullet lets the air through their lungs.

All that followed would have seemed
more terrible if it had not appeared to be
so remote. David had to assure himself