"Well, dear child, what is the trouble? Into what quagmire have your
little feet slipped? When you invite me so solemnly to a private
conference in this distractingly pretty room, the inference is
inevitable that some disaster threatens. Have you overdrawn your bank
account?"
Judge Dent leaned back, making himself thoroughly comfortable in a deep
easy chair in Leo's luxurious library; and taking his niece's hand,
looked up into her grave, sweet face.
"I want you to honor my draft for a large amount. I am about to draw
upon your sympathy; can I ever overdraw my account with that royal
bank?"
"Upon my sympathy, never; but mark you, this does not commit me to
compliance with all your Utopian schemes. If you were raving mad, I
should sympathize, but nevertheless I should see that the strait-jacket
was brought into requisition. When your generosity train dashes
recklessly beyond regulation schedules of safety, I must discharge
engineer sympathy, and whistle down the brakes. What new hobby do you
intend that I shall ride?"
"I have no intention of sharing that privilege even with you; I merely
desire you to inspect the accoutrements, to examine reins, and girth,
and stirrup. I lend my hobby to no one, and it is far too mettlesome to
'carry double'. Uncle Mitchell, I feel so unhappy about that poor girl,
that I must do something to comfort her, and only one avenue presents
itself. I want you to have her brought into court on a writ of Habeas
Corpus, and to use your influence with Judge Parkman to grant her bail.
I desire to give the amount of bond he may require, because I think it
would gratify her, to have this public assurance that she possessed the
confidence of her own sex; for nothing so strengthens and soothes a
true woman as the sympathy and trust of women."
"Looking at the case dispassionately from a professional point of view,
I am sorry to tell you that the judge would scarcely be warranted in
granting bail. Were I still upon the bench, I could not conscientiously
release her, in the face of constantly accumulating evidence against
her, although she has my deepest compassion. Conceding, however, for
the moment, that Parkman consents to the petition and the girl is set
at liberty, are you prepared to pay the large forfeit, if she,
realizing the fearful odds against her acquittal, should take permanent
bail by absconding before the trial? Abstract sympathy and generous
sentiments are one phase of this matter; positively paying a fifteen or
a twenty-thousand-dollar-bond is quite another. Weigh it carefully. We
pity this unfortunate prisoner, but we know absolutely nothing in her
favor, to counterbalance the terrible array of accusing circumstances
fate has piled against her. If she be guilty, can she resist the
temptation to escape by flight; and if indeed she be innocent, how much
more difficult to await all that is involved in this trial, and abide
the issue? Because she is beautiful, has a refined and noble air, and
seems unsullied as some grand snow image, do not blind yourself to the
fact, that for aught we can prove to the contrary, she may have a heart
as black as Tullias', hands as bloody as Brunehaut's."
"You believe that as little as I do. I have pondered the matter in all
its aspects, and I take the risk."
"You can afford to pay for her flight?"
"I will pay for her flight, no matter what it may cost."
Judge Dent took her hand between both his.
"Let us be frank."
"'The things we do--
We do; we'll wear no mask, as if we blushed!'"
"Are you so assured of the woman's fidelity; or do you deliberately
leave the door ajar, foreseeing the result, deeming this the most
expedient method of cutting the Gordian knot?"
For a moment she hesitated, then her soft brown eyes looked down
bravely into his.
"I believe she is innocent, and that she will be loyal if released on
bail; but if I mistake her character, and she should flee for her life
from the lifted sword of justice, then I shall gladly pay the expense
of playing Alexander's role; and shall feel rejoiced that she lives to
repent her crime; and that the man to whom I have promised my hand, has
been relieved of the awful responsibility of hunting her to death."
"Have you made him acquainted with this scheme?"
"Certainly not. I owed it to you to secure your approbation and
co-operation, before mentioning the matter to him."
"Have you considered the opposition which, without inconsistency, he
cannot fail to offer? As prosecuting attorney for the Darringtons he
would be recreant to his client, if he consented to release on bail."
"His sympathy is deeply enlisted in her behalf, and I do not anticipate
opposition; nevertheless, it would not deter me from the attempt to
free her, at least temporarily from prison. As you have no connection
with the trial, I can see no impropriety in your telling Judge Parkman,
that the girl's health demands a change of air and scene, and that it
is my desire to furnish any bond he may deem suitable, and then bring
the prisoner under my own roof, until the day fixed for her trial. If
you are unwilling to speak to him, will you permit me to mention the
subject to him?"
"I fear enthusiasm is hurrying you into a proposal, the possibly grave
consequences of which you do not realize. You would run a great risk in
bringing here that unfortunate woman, over whose head has gathered so
black a cloud of suspicion. In becoming her gaoler, you assume a
fearful responsibility."
"I fully comprehend all the hazard, and with your permission, I shall
not shrink. I have a conviction, for which I can offer no adequate
grounds, that this girl is as innocent as I am; and if all the world
hissed and jeered, I should stretch out my hand to her. Do you
recollect Ortes' booty when Antwerp fell into Alva's hands? The keys of
the dungeons. I would rather swing wide the barred doors of yonder
human cage across the river, and lead that woman out under God's free
sky, than wear all of Alva's jewels, own his gold. Uncle, will you
speak, or shall I?"
"I must first talk with Churchill and Dunbar. Your effort might result
only in injury to the prisoner; because if she were brought into Court
on writ of Habeas Corpus, and refused bail, as I fear would be the
case, the failure would operate very unfavorably for her cause, on
public opinion, of which after all, in nineteen cases out of twenty,
the jury verdict is a reflection. Some new evidence has been presented
since the preliminary examination, and its character will determine the
question of bail. If I can see any chance of your success I will speak
to Parkman; for, indeed, my dear child, I honor your motive, and share
your hope; but unless I find more encouragement than I expect, I will
not complicate matters by a futile attempt, which would certainly
recoil disastrously."
"Thank you, Uncle Mitchell. Please act promptly. I have set my heart of
hearts on having that poor young woman here to spend Christmas. Her
freedom to walk about in the sunshine, is the one Christmas gift I
covet; and I know you will gratify me if possible. You have only four
days in which to secure my present."
"When do you expect to see Dunbar?"
"I promised to ride with him this afternoon; but I prefer not to
discuss this subject, as he has earnestly requested me 'to abstain from
any reference to that gloomy business during his hours of recreation;'
and I have no intention of setting black care en croupe to share our
canter to-day. Having told me that when he leaves his office to visit
us, he locks his professional affairs in his desk, you can readily
understand that good taste enforces respect for his wishes, at least in
the matter of avoiding tabooed topics."
"Does it occur to you that he will object very strenuously to seeing
the personification of 'that gloomy business' sitting at your
hearth-stone? That he may refuse to lock up in his law office the
significant and disagreeable reflection, that the woman whom he
arrested find prosecutes for a vile crime, is championed and housed by
one whom he claims as his promised wife? Dunbar has a keen eye for the
'eternal fitness of things,' and, where you are concerned, is a jealous
stickler for social convenance. I warn you he will be bitterly
offended, if you bring General Darrington's granddaughter under this
roof."
Her delicate flower-like face flushed; and the slight figure became
proudly erect.
"It is my house, and I acquit him of the presumption of desiring to
dictate to whom its doors shall be opened. If he has no confidence in
my discretion, no respect for my motives, no tolerance for difference
of opinion in a matter of vital importance, then the sooner our
engagement is annulled the better for both of us. When I have taken my
vows, I hope I shall steadfastly keep them, but meantime I am still a
Gordon. The irrevocable ubi tu Caius, ego Caia, has not yet been
uttered, and while it would grieve me very much to wound his feelings,
I claim the exercise of my own judgment. I am not indifferent to his
wishes; on the contrary, I ardently desire, as far as is consistent
with my self-respect, to defer to them; but when I pledged him my
faith, I did not surrender my will, nor obliterate my individuality."
Judge Dent rose, put his arm around her shoulders, and drew the sunny
head to his breast.
"Leo, listen to me. There is no heaven on earth, but the nearest
approach to it, the outlying suburbs whence we get bewildering glimpses
of beatitude beyond, is the season of courtship and betrothal. In the
magical days of sweetheartdom, a silvery glorifying glamour wraps the
world, brims jagged black chasms with glittering mist, paves rugged
paths with its shimmering folds, and tenderly covers very deep in rose
leaves, the clay feet of our idols. That wonderful light shines only
once full upon us, but the memory of it streams all along the
succeeding journey; follows us up the arid heights, throws its mellow
afterglow on the darkening road, as we go swiftly down the slippery
hill of life. It comes to all, as hope's happy prophecy, this sparkling
prologue, and we never dream that it is the sweetest and best of the
drama that follows; but let me tell you, enjoy it while you may.
Beautiful, hallowing sweetheart days, keep them unclouded, guard them
from strife; hold them for the precious enchantment they bring, and
take an old man's advice, do not quarrel with your sweetheart."
He kissed her cheek, and when the door closed behind him, she sat down
and covered her face with her hands.
Was that witching light already fading in her sky? Was the storm even
now muttering, that would rudely toss aside the rose leaves that
garlanded the feet of her beloved? In the midst of her eloquent
prologue would darkness smite suddenly, and end the drama? Life had
poured its richest wine into the cup she held to her lips; should she
risk spilling the priceless draught? She could turn a deaf ear to
teazing whispers of suspicion, she could shut her eyes to the spectre
that threw up warning hands, and so drift on; but the dream would be
broken perhaps too late, and all time could not repair the possible
shipwreck. Into the chill shadow of this problem plunged Miss Patty,
bringing through the room the penetrating spicery of an apron full of
pinks, which she was sorting and tying in star-shaped clusters.
"An extraordinary and most unexpected thing has happened, and I know
you will be surprised."
"What is it, Aunt Patty? Something very pleasant, I hope."
"I have actually changed my opinion; and you know how tenacious I
usually am of my well-matured views, because they are always founded on
such sound reasons. Quite surprised, aren't you, dear?"
"That is far too mild and inadequate a term to express my sensations.
Your views and opinions bear the same royal, inviolable seal as those
of the Medes and Persians, and from their unchangeableness must have
floated down the stream of Aryan migration, from some infallible
fountain in Bactria. I should not be much more astonished to hear that
Cynosure had grown giddy, had swung down and waltzed in the arms of
Sirius."
"Leo, that sounds very pedantic, and there is nothing I dislike more. A
woman bedecked with rags and tags of farfetched learning, is about as
attractive an object as if she had turned out a full beard and
mustache. I am very sure you have heard me assert more than once, that
I verily believe Venus herself would scare all the men into
monasteries, if she wore blue stockings. Too much learning in a lady's
conversation is as utterly unpardonable as a waste of lemon and nutmeg
in a chicken-pie; or a superfluity of cheese in Turbot a la creme; just
a hint of the flavor, the merest soupcon is all that is admissible in
either. I came in to tell you, that I have experienced quite a change
of feeling with reference to that poor young lady, whom Mr. Dunbar with
such officious haste arrested and threw into gaol. I am now convinced
that a great wrong has been committed."
For a moment Leo stooped to stroke the head of her Siberian hound,
crouching on the velvet rug at her feet; then she frankly met the
twinkling black eyes that peered over their gold-rimmed spectacles.
"I am glad to hear it; but to what circumstance is so deckled a
revulsion of sentiment attributable?"
"You know I have great confidence in Sister Serena's sagacity, and
during the past fortnight she has talked frequently with me on the
subject of the prisoner. When she undertook to nurse the poor child,
she too considered her guilty of the unnatural crime; but by degrees
she began to doubt it. About ten days ago, she says she went to the
penitentiary, and found the prisoner reading a Bible which she had
borrowed from the gaoler's wife. She asked her if she would like her to
offer up a prayer, in her behalf, and they knelt down side by side.
Sister Serena prayed that God would melt her heart if she was guilty,
and help her to repent. While they were still on their knees, Sister
Serena put one arm around her and said:
"'God knows whether you are the criminal; and if so, let me beg of you
to make a full confession; it will unload your conscience, and may be
the means of arousing more sympathy in the public heart.' She says that
the poor girl looked at her a moment so reproachfully, and answered:
'When we meet in heaven, you will understand how cruelly your words
hurt me. I know that appearances are hopelessly against me, and I
expect to die; but I am so innocent, I keep my soul close to God, for
He who knows the truth, will help me to bear man's injustice.' Then she
prayed aloud for herself, that she might endure patiently and meekly an
awful punishment which she did not deserve; and while she prayed, her
countenance was so pure, so angelic, and there was such unmistakable
fervor and sincerity in her petition, that Sister Serena says she could
not help bursting into tears, and she actually begged the girl's pardon
for having doubted her innocence. She has fallen completely in love
with the poor young creature, and tells me she finds her wonderfully
talented and cultivated. This morning she showed me some of the most
beautiful designs for decorating our altar on Christmas, which the
prisoner sketched for her. She cut all the models for her, and gave her
such lovely suggestions, and when Sister Serena thanked her, she says
the most touching smile she ever saw came into that child's face, as
she answered: 'I ought to thank you for the privilege of decorating my
Savior's altar, at the last Christmas I shall spend on earth. Next
year, I shall spend Jesus' birthday with Him.' I felt so uncomfortable
when I heard all that passed between her and Sister Serena, that I
could not be easy until I had seen for myself; and as Sister Serena was
going over to carry some letters to be painted and gilded, I went with
her. I have seen her, and talked with her, and I pity the hard, bitter,
unregenerate and vindictive heart of the man who is prosecuting her for
murder. I do not believe that in all the world, Mr. Dunbar can find
twelve men idiotic and vicious enough to convict that beautiful orphan
girl; and his failure will do as little credit to his intellect, as
success would to his moral nature."
"While I prefer to exclude Mr. Dunbar's name from our discussions, I
think it merely bare justice to the absent, to assure you that he
desires her conviction even less than you or I; and will do all in his
power to avert it. I feel more interest in this matter than you can
possibly realize, and, believing her innocent, I will befriend her to
the last extremity. Did Sister Serena succeed in fitting the black
dress I sent?"
"The poor child had on a mourning dress, but I was not aware you sent
it. Losing her mother seems almost to have broken her heart. Poor
Ellice Darrington! Petted and fostered like a hot-house flower, and
then to die a pauper in a hospital! What an awful retribution for her
disobedience to her parents? There is the bell."
"Yes, Auntie, and I must ask you to excuse me. Some of my Sunday-school
class are coming to practise their carols, and conclude a little
holiday preparation, and I hear them now on the steps."
"Did Mitchell show you Leighton's telegram?"
"He told me the good news, that at the last moment Leighton had filled
his pulpit for the holidays, and would preach for us on Christmas. How
delightfully it will revive the dear old days to have him back? Fancy
our hanging up our stockings once more at the foot of Uncle Mitchell's
bed! Your letter must have been eloquent, indeed, to entice him from
the splendors of the metropolis, to the yule log at our quiet 'Lilacs';
and his coming is a tribute of gratitude to you, for all your loving
care of him. I know you are so happy at the thought of taking the Holy
Communion from the hand of your dear boy, that it will consecrate this
Christmas above all others; and I congratulate you heartily, dear Aunt
Patty."
It was late in the afternoon of Saturday, Christmas Eve, when Leo
knocked at the door of Mrs. Singleton's room. A dispirited expression
characterized the countenance usually serene and happy, and between her
brows a perpendicular line marked the advent of anxious foreboding. Her
hopeful scheme had dissolved, vanished like a puff of steam on icy air,
leaving only a teazing memory of mocking failure. Judge Dent's
conference with the District Solicitor, had convinced him of the
futility of any attempt to secure bail; moreover, a message from the
prisoner earnestly exhorted them to abandon all intercessory designs in
her behalf, as she would not accept release on bail, and preferred to
await her trial.
"Good evening, Miss Gordon. If you want to see her, Ned will show you
the way to the chapel, where I left her a while ago. Since her mother's
death, the only comfort she gets, is from the organ; so we let her go
there very often. I would go with you, but I want to finish a black
shawl I am crocheting for her."
The warden escorted his visitor through the chill dim corridors that
had formerly so appalled Beryl's soul, and upon the steps of the
chapel, both paused to listen. On the small cabinet organ, a skilful
hand was playing a grand and solemn aria, which Leo had heard once
before in the cool depths of Freiburg Cathedral. It had impressed her
then most powerfully, as the despairing invocation of some doomed
Titan; to-day it thrilled her with keen and intolerable pain. Waving
the warden back, she softly entered the chapel, closed the door, and
sat down.
Through the narrow windows, the afternoon sunlight, fettered by shadowy
bars, fell on the bare floor, and the radiance smote the organ and the
wan face of the musician, gilding the dark reddish-brown hair coiled
loosely on her nobly poised head. Her black dress enhanced the extreme
pallor of delicate features, which, outlined against that golden
background, bore a strong resemblance to the lovely portrait of
Titian's wife in the Louvre. Unmindful of the keys, across which her
fingers strayed, she was gazing off into space, as if seeking some
friendly face; and to the same sombre, passionate, plaintive melody she
sang:
"The way is dark, my Father! Cloud upon cloud
Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud
The thunders roar above me. O, see--I stand
Like one bewildered! Father, take my hand--
And through the gloom lead safely home Thy Child!
The day declines, my Father! and the night
Is drawing darkly down. My faithless sight
Sees ghostly visions. Fears like a spectral band
Encompass me. O, Father, take my hand,
And from the night lead up to light Thy Child!
The cross is heavy, Father! I have borne
It long, and still do bear it. I cannot stand
Or go alone. O, Father, take my hand,
And reaching down, lead to the crown Thy Child!"
The voice was wonderfully sweet and rich, vibrating with the intense
pathos of minor chords in a mellow old violoncello, and either from
physical weakness, or the weight of woe, it quivered at last into a
thrilling cry. Tears were dripping over Leo's cheeks, as she went up to
the chancel railing, and leaning across, put out her hand. Beryl rose
and came forward, and so, with only the pine balustrade between, the
two stood palm in palm. No moisture dimmed the prisoner's eyes, but
around her beautiful mouth sorrowful curves betokened the fierceness of
the ordeal she was enduring; and her lips trembled a little, like rose
leaves under a sudden rude gust.
"I have wanted very much to see you, Miss Gordon, to thank you for the
great kindness that prompted your effort to help me; and yet, I have no
hope of expressing adequately the comfort I derived from this
manifestation of your confidence. The knowledge that you offered
security for me, above all, that you were willing to take me--an
outcast, almost a convicted criminal--into the holy shelter of your own
home, oh! you can never realize, unless you stood in my place, how it
soothes my heart, how it will always make a bright spot in the
blackness of my situation. The full sympathy of a noble woman is the
best tonic for a feeble sufferer, who knows the world has turned its
back upon her. If I were unworthy, your goodness would be the keenest
lash that could scourge me; but forlorn though I seem, your friendship
brings me measureless balm, and while I could never have accepted your
generous offer, I thank you sincerely."
"Why were you so unwilling that I should try to release you?"
"I have not a dollar to pay my expenses anywhere, and I appreciated too
fully all that was involved in your hospitable offer, to take me under
your roof, to be willing to avail myself of it. Here I am provided for,
by those who believe me guilty; and here I have the kind sympathy of
Mr. and Mrs. Singleton, who were my first friends when the storm broke
over my doomed head. To go out of prison into the world now, would be
torturing, because I am proud and sensitive; and these dark walls
screen me from the curious observation from which I shrink, as from
being flayed. To the desolate and homeless, change of place brings no
relief; and since there is no escape for me, I prefer to wait here for
the end, which, after all, cannot be very distant."
"Do you refer to the trial next month?"
"No, to that which yawns behind the trial; a shallow gash out there
under the pines, where the sound of the penitentiary bell tolls
requiems for the souls of its mangled victims."
"Hush! hush! You wrong yourself by imagining the possibility of such
horrible results. Gloomy surroundings, coupled with your great
bereavement, render you morbidly despondent; and it was the hope of
cheering you, that made me so anxious to get you away. If I could only
take you home, even for one week!"
"The wish has cheered me inexpressibly. How good, how noble, how tender
you are! Miss Gordon, because I am so grateful, let me now say one
thing. You cannot help me in future, and it would grieve me to think
that I fell, as an unlifting shadow, between your heart and the
sunshine that warms it. In the night of my wretchedness, you have
groped your way to me, and in defiance of the circumstances that are so
cruelly leagued to strangle me, you throw your confidence like a warm
mantle around my shivering soul; you have courageously laid your pure,
womanly hands in mine--oh, God bless you! God reward you! Do you think
I could bear to know that I had caused even a hand's breadth of cloud
to drift over the heavenly blue of your happy sky? The bow of promise
that spans your life is no secret. Let no thought of me jar the harmony
that reigned before I came here. Leave me to my doom, which human hands
cannot avert now; and be happy without questioning. Inexorable fate
stands behind men; makes them, sometimes, irresponsible puppets."
A deep flush had risen to Leo's temples, and withdrawing her hand, she
shaded her face for a moment. The great bell below the tower clock rang
sullenly.
"Good-bye, Miss Gordon. I had permission to stay here only till the
bell sounded. Pray for me, but do not come again. Visits to me could
bring you nothing but sorrow in return for your compassion, and that
would add to my misery. I wish you a pleasant Christmas, a happy New
Year, and as cloudless a life as your great goodness deserves."
Once more their hands met, in a long close clasp, then Leo laid on the
chancel railing a large square envelope.
"It is only a Christmas card, but so lovely, I know your artistic taste
cannot fail to admire it; and it may brighten your cheerless room. It
is the three-hundred-dollar-prize-card, and particularly beautiful."
"Thank you, dear Miss Gordon. It may help to deaden the merciless
stings of memory, which all day long has tortured me by unrolling the
past, where my Christmas days stand out like illuminated capitals on
black-letter pages."
Deaden the stings of memory? What spell suddenly evoked the image of
her invalid mother, all the details of the attic room, the litter of
pencils on the table; the windows of a florist's shop where, standing
on the pavement, she had studied hungrily the shapes of the blossoms
poverty denied her as models; the interior of the Creche, which she had
penetrated in order to sketch the heads of sleeping babies, as a study
for cherubs?
Leo had almost reached the door, when a passionate, indescribably
mournful cry arrested her steps.
"Too late!--too late! O, God! What a cruel mockery!"
Beryl stood leaning against the railing of the altar, with the light of
the setting sun falling aslant on the gilded card she held up in one
hand; on her white convulsed face, where tears fell in a scalding
flood. Retracing her steps, Leo said falteringly:
"In my efforts to comfort you, have I only wounded more sorely? How
have I hurt you? What can I do?"
"No--no! you are an angel of pity, hovering over an abyss of ruin,
whose darkest horrors you only imagine faintly. What can you do?
Nothing, but pray to God to paralyze my tongue, and grant me death,
before I lose my last clutch on faith, and curse my Creator, and drift
down to eternal perdition! It was hard enough before, but this mockery
maddens."
With a sudden abandonment, she hurled the card away, threw her arms
around Leo's neck and sobbed unrestrainedly. Tenderly the latter held
her shivering form, as the proud head fell on her shoulder; and after a
time, Beryl lifted a face white as an annunciation lily, drenched by
tropical rain.
"I thought misfortune had emptied all her vials, and that I was nerved,
because there was nothing more to dread. But the worst is always
behind, and this is the irony of fate. You think that merely a
rhetorical metaphor, a tragic trope? How should you know? That
Christmas card is the solitary dove I sent out to hunt a resting-place
for mother and for me, when the flood engulfed us. It was my design
sent to Boston, to compete for the prizes offered. How I dreamed, how I
toiled! Haunting the flower shops for a glimpse of heartsease, and
passion flowers, and stars of Bethlehem; begging a butcher at the
abattoir to spare a lamb, until I could sketch it; kneeling by cradles
in the public Creche to get the full red curve of a baby's sucking
lips, as they forsook the bottle, the dimple in the tiny hands, the
tendrils of hair on the satin brow! Over that card I sang, and I wept;
I worked, hoped, prayed, believed! So much depended upon it! Could the
Christ to whom I dedicated it, fail to answer my prayer for success?
Three hundred dollars! What a mint! It would pay the doctor, and make
mother comfortable, and get her a warm new suit for coming winter. Oh!
it is so easy to believe in God, until He denies us; and to trust
Christ, till He hurls our prayers back, and the stones crush us. Only
three hundred dollars between life and death; between a happy, proud
girl with a noble future, and a disgraced, broken-hearted wreck
trampled into a convict's grave! It would have saved all; all the awful
consequences of the journey here, which only dire extremity of need
forced upon me. On the fatal day I started South, I went at the last
moment, hoping that some tidings from my card would come on angel
wings. The decision had been made, but the awards were not yet
published, and so my doom was sealed. To-morrow, happy women, no more
innocent than I am, will smile at my Christmas card, and give it with
warm kisses and loving words to their dear ones; and to-day, my white
dove of hope, flies back in my face, with the talons of a harpy, to
devour me with maddening reminders of 'what might have been'. My
coveted three hundred dollars! Three hundred taunting fiends! to jeer
and torment me. The Christmas sun will shine on a pauper's empty cot in
a charity hospital; on a disgraced, insulted, forsaken convict. Take
away this last mockery, it is more than I can bear. There on the back
in gilt letters--Prize Card--Three Hundred Dollars! Yet a stranger paid
for my mother's coffin, and--. Three hundred furies to lash my heart
out! Too late! Take it away! too late! oh, too late! This is worse than
the pangs of death."