"CALVARY."
On the fourth day the court called for the defense. Curiosity reached
its culmination. Men fought for a chance to get within hearing
distance. Dan and his comrades sat with an indolent air of
satisfaction. Aunty Perkins crowded close to the front. Through the
door and up to the very railing which enclosed the active
participants, Andrew Malden and Tony made their way. There were only
four possible points for the defense. First, it might prove Job's
changed character; second, that it was Job, not Dan, to whom Jane Reed
was betrothed; third, that Job was far away in the Merced canyon with
Indian Bill at the time of the death; fourth, to show by what cause
death came to the fated girl.
The last, the defense could not prove; for the third, they had no
evidence but the prisoner's own word, and that the court would not
accept; the second, not even the lawyer or Andrew Malden knew, and no
power on earth could make Job Malden tell it; there was no defense to
make except to show the character of Job and plead the fact that
circumstantial evidence was not proof of guilt.
He did his best, that bungling young attorney. He tried to take
advantage of technicalities, but Job utterly forbade that. If
righteousness and God could not clear him, nothing else could. The
defense was lame, but it proved that some people believed in Job and
loved him. Tim's father told, between his tears, the story of "Tim's
praist." Aunty Perkins and the preacher spoke ringing words for him.
From the Yellow Jacket men came and defended his noble life. But it
all went for naught with that jury. It was facts, not sentiment, they
wanted. All this might be true, but if Job Malden had done the awful
deed which the evidence went to show, then these things only made his
crime the blacker.
The defense finished at noon, and the lawyers began their pleas at one
o'clock. They hardly needed to speak--Grizzly county had tried the
case and the verdict was in. Yet they spoke. How eloquently the
prosecuting attorney showed the influence of heredity--that the evil
in the father would show itself some day in the boy! How he pictured
the temporary religious change in Job's life, and then his relapse as
the old fever came back into his blood! He had relapsed before, they
all knew. He did not doubt his temporary goodness; but love is
stronger than fear and hatred than integrity, and meeting Jane in the
valley had roused all the old passion. Out on the cliff they had
walked, they had quarreled, all the old fire of his father had come
back--perhaps the boy was not to blame--and, standing there alone with
the girl who would not promise to be his wife, in his rage he had
struck her, and over the cliff she had gone, down, down, on the cruel
rocks, to her death, and he had fled over the mountains till, goaded
by conscience, haunted by awful guilt, he had come home and given
himself up.
The crowd shuddered as he spoke. Tom Reed fainted, Andrew Malden grew
deathly white and raised his wan hand in protest, but still the
speaker kept on. Job listened as if it were of another he spoke. He
could see it all--how awful it was!--and it was Jane and he had done
it! He almost believed he had; that man who stood there, carrying the
whole throng with him, made it so clear. The voice ceased. Then Job
roused himself. The consciousness that it was all false, terribly
false, came over him, and he leaned hard on God.
The attorney for the defense said but a word. For a moment it thrilled
the multitude. It was a strange speech. This is what he said: "Your
honor and gentlemen of the jury, the only defense I have is the
character of the young man. I can say nothing more than you have heard
to show how far beneath him is such a crime as this. I know you doubt
his word, I know you are against him; but, before these people who
know me as an infidel--before God who looks down and knows the hearts
of men--I want to say that I believe in Job Malden. What I have seen
of him in these awful days has changed my whole life. Henceforth I
believe in God."
It was over. The judge was charging the jury, "Bring in a verdict
consistent with the facts, gentlemen; the facts, not sentiment." The
sun was setting. The jury retired for the night; they would bring in a
verdict in the morning.
But the verdict was in. Even Andrew Malden groaned as he leaned on
Tony's arm, "Oh, Tony! Tony! How could he have done it!" As Job turned
to go back to his cell, he looked over that great crowd for one face
that trusted him, but on each seemed written, "Guilty!" He felt as if
the whole world had turned from him and the years had gone for naught.
There was no voice to whisper a loving word. "Forsaken! forsaken!" He
said it over and over. His head was hot, his pulse was feverish. He
longed for the touch of his mother's hand; he was hungry for the sound
of Jane's voice; he longed to lay his head on Andrew Malden's knee;
but he was alone--Calvary was here. The crucifixion hour had come.
At midnight he awoke. A strong arm seemed to hold him, a voice to say,
"When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; when thou
walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned." It was the
Christ. There alone on the summit of the mount of the cross, amid the
bitterness of the world, pierced to the heart, crucified in soul, Job
Malden stood with his Master.