CHAPTER XXXVI

SWIFT AND BEAUTIFUL FEET

For three months Ruth went back and forth from Sing Sing to

Albany, battling with the Governor for Gordon's life and cheering

the condemned man with her courage and love.

The fatal day of the execution had come, and she was to wage the

last battle of her soul for the life of her love with the man who

loved her.

It was a day of storm. The spring rains had been pouring in torrents

for a week and the wind was now dashing against the windows blinding

sheets of water.

A carriage stopped before the Governor's Mansion, and two women

wrapped in long cloaks leaped quickly out. The Governor was at his

desk in his office.

There was the rustle of a woman's dress at his door. He looked and

sprang to his feet, trembling.

He threw one hand to his forehead as though to clear his brain,

and caught a chair with the other.

Advancing swiftly toward him, he saw the white vision of Ruth

Spottswood the night of the ball when he had lost her. The same

dress, the same rounded throat, only the bust a little fuller, and

the same beautiful bare arms with the delicate wrists and tapering

fingers. The great soulful eyes, with just a gleam of young sunshine

in their depths, and the same flowers on her breast. She walked

with lithe, quick grace, and now she was talking in the low sweet

contralto music that had echoed in his soul through the years.

"Please, Governor," she was saying, as her hot hand held his, "save

my father!"

The man's eyes were blinking, and he put one hand to his throat as

though he were about to choke. He looked past the white figure of

the girl and saw her mother kneeling in the corner of the room,

the tears streaming down her face and her lips moving in prayer.

In quick tones he called:

"Ruth!"

She leaped to her feet and was before him in a moment, with scarlet

face, dilated eyes and disheveled hair.

"You've won. I give it up."

Ruth pressed both hands to her breast and caught her breath to keep

from screaming.

He pressed the button on his desk. The clerk appeared.

"Write out a full pardon for Frank Gordon, and call the warden of

Sing Sing!"

Ruth dropped to her knees, crying:

"O Lord God, unto thee I give praise!"

In a moment the clerk hurried back to the Governor's side and in

startling tones whispered:

"The wires are down, sir. I can't get the warden."

The Governor snatched his watch from his pocket.

"There is no train for two hours. Order me a special!"

The despatcher flashed his command for a clear track as far as the

wires would work, and within fifteen minutes the great engine with

its single coach dashed across the bridge and plunged down the

grade toward Sing Sing, roaring, hissing, screaming its warnings

above the splash and howl of the storm.

The Governor sat silent with his head resting on his hand, shading

his eyes.

Ruth, still and pale, gazed out the car window, and, shivering,

closed her eyes now and then over the vision of a cold dead face

she feared to see at the journey's end.

They had made fifty miles in fifty minutes, and not a word had been

spoken.

The Governor looked at his watch and leaned over:

"Cheer up, Ruth. We are making a mile a minute through the storm,

over slippery rails. We will make it in time."

Suddenly the emergency brakes came down with a crash, every wheel

was locked, and the train slid heavily on the track, hissing,

grinding, swaying, the steel rails blazing with sparks.

The Governor sprang from the car. "We're blocked by a wreck, sir,"

the conductor said, touching his cap. "The high water has undermined

the track on the river bank."

Within twenty minutes the engine in front of the wreck was secured,

Ruth and Lucy were in the cab, and the engineer and fireman stood

reading their orders.

"Gentlemen, I am the Governor," said a voice by their side.

They looked up.

"This is a matter of life and death. The life of a man--and the life

of the little pale woman I helped into your cab. Put this engine

into Sing Sing by five minutes to two o'clock and I'll give you a

thousand dollars. Five hundred for each of you."

The engineer smiled.

"We'll do it for you, sir, without money. We voted for you."

The Governor pressed their hands.

Down the storm-clouded track the engine flew with throbbing heart

of steel and breath of fire like a panting demon. Back and forth

over the spongy rails she swayed, her mighty ribs cracking as she

lurched and jumped and plunged. But the fireman in his flannel

shirt, dripping with perspiration, never paused, as with steady

stroke he fed her roaring mouth; and the engineer, with his hand

on her pulse, leaned far out of the cab with his eyes fixed on the

flying track.

The hour for the condemned man was at hand. He had asked the warden

as a special favour to do his duty without delay at the appointed

time.

Gordon was ready, dressed with his old fastidious distinction to

the last detail of his toilet. He had spent the entire night before

writing to Ruth the last chapter in a secret diary he had kept and

given to the warden for her.

The warden read the death warrant with halting lips. He had been

strangely drawn to this tall young giant with his premature gray

hairs. Gordon's words of lyric fire to him of the mysteries of life

and death had thrown a spell over his imagination. He was going to

kill him now with the horrible feeling that he was his own brother.

"Come, my friend," Gordon said to him, cheerfully, "you promised

me there should be no delay. I've a child's eagerness now to push

the black curtains aside and see what lies beyond. I've often

dreamed and wondered. In a few minutes I shall know. I hear it

calling me, that unknown world of silence, beauty and mystery. Let

us make haste."

But the feet of the jailer were of lead. He would stop and hold

his lower lip tightly under his teeth, as though in pain.

At last they were in the dim chamber that is the vestibule of

death. The cap had been drawn over his face and the leather straps

buckled on his wrists legs,

The warden put his hand on the electric switch.

There was a shout and a stir without, the thump of hurrying feet,

and the butt of a guard's gun thundered against the door.

The warden sprang forward.

"Stop! The Governor!" he heard faintly shouted through the deep-padded

panels.

The One Woman: A Story of Modern Utopia · 第 36 / 37 章