at least, due to my hesitation in asserting my authority. Could
I allow the Prisoner to presume on his compassionate nature, and
to hurry him into a decision which, in his calmer moments, he
might find reason to regret? I spoke to _him_. Does the man live
who--having to say what I had to say--could have spoken to
the doomed mother?

"I am sorry to have allowed this to go on," I said. "In justice
to yourself, sir, don't answer!"

She turned on me with a look of fury.

"He shall answer," she cried.

I saw, or thought I saw, signs of yielding in his face. "Take
time," I persisted--"take time to consider before you decide."

She stepped up to me.

"Take time?" she repeated. "Are you inhuman enough to talk of
time, in my presence?"

She laid the sleeping child on her bed, and fell on her knees
before the Minister: "I promise to hear your exhortations--I
promise to do all a woman can to believe and repent. Oh, I know
myself! My heart, once hardened, is a heart that no human
creature can touch. The one way to my better nature--if I have
a better nature--is through that poor babe. Save her from
the workhouse! Don't let them make a pauper of her!" She sank
prostrate at his feet, and beat her hands in frenzy on the floor.