THE APPEAL
Two weeks later the judge pronounced the sentence of death. Again
the dark figure was by the prisoner's side, alert, erect, every
faculty of mind and body at its highest tension, her cheeks aflame
with defiance, her eyes gleaming with hidden fire.
She was sure the Court of Appeals would grant a new trial. She bade
her beloved good-by at the gates of Sing Sing, and the door of the
Chamber of Death closed upon him.
Day and night she worked with tireless energy. She systematically
laid siege to the editors and owners of the papers in New York,
and at last won every hostile critic by her patience, her beauty
of character, and the infinite pathos of her love.
The moment sentence of death was pronounced on Gordon, Kate sued
for a divorce from him as a convicted felon, and it was granted.
The little dark woman became the toast of every hardened newspaper
reporter who came in contact with her. The newsboys learned to
recognise her from her pictures, and as she went in and out of the
court-rooms and the lawyers' offices they would watch and wait for
her, doff their dirty caps, smile, hand her a flower, and cry:
"She's de queen!"
When Ruth saw the notice of Kate's divorce, she asked her lawyers
to arrange at once for her to remarry Gordon at Sing Sing.
The senior counsel shook his head.
"You must not dare, madam," he gravely said. "If we should not get
a new trial, or fail on the second trial, the Governor at Albany
is our only hope."
A wave of sickening terror swept Ruth's soul. She recalled King's
strange reserve of the past months. His letters were kind and
sympathetic, but there was something hidden between their lines
that chilled her.
"We must not lose!" she answered, bitterly.
"I don't think we will," the lawyer hastened to assure her. "But
we must reserve every weapon."
The Court of Appeals decided in Gordon's favour and ordered a new
trial.
As the day approached, Ruth's nervousness increased. His chances
were better, but she could hear the awful words of Kate Ransom
swearing away his life. Their echoes rang in her soul until she
could no longer endure it.
She was at Gramercy Park at last.
When Kate swept proudly and coldly into the room, and extended her
hand, she held it in her grasp timidly and nervously.
"I've come to beg you," she said, piteously, "not to say he made
those wounds in his own breast. They fought a duel as men have often
done. You were in a swoon. You thought he did it himself because
he told you he was going to die with you. He did not hurt you. He
only laid you tenderly on the lounge, smoothed your hair, kissed
and left you. Surely you have brought me enough sorrow. Have pity
on me!"
Kate led her to a seat and spoke with quiet decision. "I said what
I believed to be the truth. I shall repeat it. I can feel his wild
beast's claws on my throat now in the night sometimes and wake with
a scream."
"Ah, but he was mad," she cried, through her tears. "He is tender
and gentle as a child. Surely you"--she paused and caught her
breath--"who have slept with your head on his dear breast know
this!"
"It is useless to talk to me," she answered, with anger. "He deserves
to die. And it will be a good riddance for you, and for the world.
He was stirring the passions of mobs that will yet make work for
hangmen."
"But he is not on trial for this," she pleaded, "You should be
the last to reproach him with it. Think of all the sacrifices for
you--his career, his wife and children, his father, his friends.
Surely there is yet one spark of love for him in your heart?"
Kate shook her head.
"Then for my sake, I beg of you--you are a woman. You have loved.
Have mercy on me! You asked me once for help--did I fail you?"
The blond face softened.
"No, you didn't. I'm sorry for you. If it were your life, I'd save
it if I swore a thousand lies--but for him, the brute--I can feel
him strangling me now--you have not felt his hands on your throat."
"No," said the soft contralto voice, "not on my throat; it would
have been a relief to have felt them there. They were on my soul.
But I love him---"
Kate was relentless, and Ruth left, shivering with anguish and
angry pride.
The new trial dragged its length to the second jury. Ruth spent
and pledged the last dollar of her fortune.
Once more she heard the foreman, in tones that seemed far off in
space, say the fatal word--
"Guilty!"
She stood by his side again before the judge and heard the words
of death fall from his lips, this time with blanched face and cold
little fingers locked in agony.
Again the gates at Sing Sing closed, and a woman turned her footsteps
toward the Governor's Mansion at Albany.