CHAPTER XIV—THE JUDGMENT HALL OF FATE
STELLA made excuses to John Graham for not being able to see him before their appointment to meet at Inwood, and on the afternoon of the day fixed rode out of town at four o’clock alone.
Her unconventional ways had ceased to excite comment in Independence since her extraordinary conduct in refusing to wear mourning for her father. There could be no graver breach of the traditions of good society than this in the eyes of her neighbours, and so long as she remained within the pale of respectability any other feat she might perform would be of minor interest.
She rode rapidly, her mind in a tumult of excitement over the daring act of revenge she meant to wreak to-night on the man who had wronged her beyond the power of human forgiveness. Singlehanded and alone she had mastered his will and brought him to her feet. Single-handed and alone she had decided the question of his life and death. And this afternoon she wished to ride alone to the place appointed for his judgment.
In spite of her resolution to mete out the sternest justice to John Graham, the memory of his passionate words of love, the deep tenderness with which he had hovered about her, and the utter trust he had shown during their last meeting, began to torment her.
Had they met under fair conditions she could have loved him. She began to see it clearly now. His sincerity, his fiery emotions, his romantic extravagances, the old-fashioned chivalry with which he worshipped her were very sweet. The complete and generous surrender he had made, placing his life absolutely in her hands, began to glow with poetry in her imagination.
He had always possessed the faculty of drawing out the best that was in her. Somehow she had never been able to hate him as she ought in his presence. There was something contagious in the spirit of love with which his whole personality seemed to radiate. She had begun to feel at home with him as with no other man she had ever met.
“Oh, dear, I’m sorry!” she sighed, as she entered the deep woods. Unconsciously she reined her horse to a stand, and was startled from her reverie by a tear rolling down her cheek and falling on her glove. “What a fool I am!” she cried in anger. “I’d better turn back now. I’m a chicken-hearted coward when put to the test. I’m scared out of my senses at the size of the task I’ve undertaken—that’s what’s the matter—I, who have boasted of my strength and shouted my triumph over a strong man’s conquest.”
Another tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away with an angry stroke.
“Suppose I find too late that I’m in love with him!” she exclaimed, helplessly.
Her horse moved on without her urging or recognising it, so absorbed had she become in the battle raging within her heart.
“What is love?” she mused aloud. “I wonder how it feels to really love?—Love him?—nonsense—I hate the very ground he walks on—the self-centered, proud, bigoted, narrow-minded fanatic! I’ve sworn to avenge my father’s death. I’ll do it. Let him come to-night to the judgment hall of his own making. I’ll prove myself a woman, and do my country a service when I hand him over to justice.”
She touched her horse with the whip, and he bounded forward in a swift gallop, and in a few minutes she passed into the old lawn and saw the flash of the white ghost-like columns among the dark firs.
Again she found herself recalling the silly extravagances of his talk as they entered the grounds two days before.
“What was it he said about angels?” she mused with a smile. “Yes, I remember. Somehow I seem to remember them all!—‘When I stand by your side, in every silent space I hear the beating of the wings of angels’—and I liked it! what a fool a woman is! and tried to convince myself that I didn’t like it by adding, ‘the wings of the angel of death,’ only because I felt my hate grow weak under a silly compliment—well, I’m done with his maudlin love-making. It’s judgment day.”
She dismounted, tied her horse, and wandered down the little crooked pathway to the famous spring at the foot of the hill where many a lover had lingered in days long past and poured out the old story that remains eternal in its youth. She wondered at the mad resolution of her mother, taken perhaps on this very spot twenty-five years ago, that had led her to break the bonds of blood, throw to the winds every tie of tenderness that bound her to the earth, and brave the scorn of her own proud world, all for the sake of the son of a poor white man—because she loved him!
Why did people do such idiotic things? Why should a woman thus sink her soul and body in the fortunes of a man? She couldn’t understand it.
“Surely this is the miracle of miracles of human life!” she murmured. “I wonder if John Graham was crazy when he said that night on the lawn: ‘If you should send me from your presence now, I’d laugh at Death, for I have tasted Life!’ Why do I keep thinking of what he has said?—Perhaps because he may die to-night!”
She sprang to her feet, clasped her hands nervously and began to cry—softly at first, and then with utter abandonment, sinking again to the ground and burying her face in her arm.
“Oh, dear! oh, dear! I’m lonely and heartsick and afraid!” she sobbed. “I wish I had a friend to share my secret, advise and help me—yes, such a friend as he would be!—he’d know what I ought to do—and I know what he’d say, too—that I’m proud and cruel and selfish—that I’m doing a hideous, unnatural thing—well I’m not! the impulse for vengeance is God’s first law—I know it because I feel it, deep, instinctive, resistless!—and I’m going to do it! I’m going to do it!—I hate him! I hate him!”
She rose and returned to the ruins, and sat down on the steps between the white columns. The sun was sinking through an ocean of filmy clouds, reflecting in rapid changes every colour ever dreamed in the soul of the artist. She watched in deep breathless reverence, until the sense of loneliness again overpowered her and she sprang up with restless energy exclaiming:
“I meant to explore that room before he comes—I must do it.”
She descended the steps and stopped before the dark entrance. It hadn’t seemed so dark the other day with him. It was earlier in the day of course. Why had she paused? The question angered her. She was afraid to go through the long dark corridor alone—that was the disgusting truth.
She turned back to await his coming. What a foolish contradiction. She would wait for the protection of the wretch she meant to deliver to-night to—death!
She returned with quick angry strides to the columns, and leaned against one of their friendly sides. In the gathering twilight they seemed human and sheltering in their protection. She wished he would come. A dozen times she looked toward the gate and thought she heard the beat of his horse’s hoof in the distance.
Dusk settled into darkness and still he did not come. The moon rose and touched the tall pillars above with a magic glow of mellow light, and a whip-poor-will struck the first note of his thrilling song beneath the bush at her feet.
With a shudder, she moved to the outer column and waited with increasing impatience and alarm. The wildest fears began to fill her fancy. Why had she dared this mad task alone? For some unaccountable reason she had not reckoned on being alone.
Was it possible that she had been so illogical, so utterly bereft of reason that the idea of his companionship had filled her imagination? Surely she had not been such a fool! She knew Steve Hoyle would accompany those men, beyond a doubt, and join her after the affair was over, but she had not given Steve a thought. He had been but a cog in the wheel of things that had swiftly moved to the tragic crisis which she now faced for the first time. She looked at her watch in the bright moonlight and it was half past eight. What if he failed to come! Would she be glad or angry? The tumult of feeling had reached a point of intensity that paralysed her powers of reasoning—she didn’t know. A single sense remained, the consciousness of chilling loneliness.
With a throb of joy she caught at last the quick hoof-beat of John’s horse sweeping through the gateway in a furious gallop.
He leaped to the ground, and hurried to her side.
“I’m awfully sorry!” he cried, seizing both her hands with eager tenderness. “A most unexpected thing occurred which delayed me thirty minutes. I’ll explain to you later. Come, I’m hungry to see your dear face in the light of these lanterns in that gloomy old room below. I’ve a thousand things to tell you. Life will be too short a time in which to tell it all. I hope you’ve been very lonely and hungry for me to come?”
“I must confess, my heart began to fail me once or twice,” she said seriously, while he felt her hand trembling.
He stooped to light a lantern, and she caught his arm.
“Wait, not yet—the moon is shining brightly—we don’t need it.”
“But you’ll stumble on those dark stairs in the corridor.”
“No matter, wait,” she urged nervously; “I’ll hold your arm—you know the way.”
“Yes, I know the way,” he laughed. “Come then, your slightest whim is law.”
He drew her little hand through his arm and picking his steps carefully, led her down through the tangled debris and along the dark corridor without once stumbling, the timid figure clinging close to his side.
“You see a revolutionist soon learns to find his way in the dark without a light,” he said, as they emerged into the kitchen whose wide space was lighted by the moonbeams streaming through the windows.
He released her arm, placed the lantern and a bundle he carried on the top of the range, and said with a laugh:
“Now, shall the actor make up for his part? I’ve the costume all ready. This is the palace of the queen to-night. I have been commanded to appear before her!”
She gave no answer.
He bent and kissed her hand and found it cold and trembling violently.
“You feel the chill of this old basement,” he said with tender solicitude. “I’ll light the lantern at once.”
She caught his hand.
“No! No!—I—prefer it like this—the moonlight is enough.”
“All right,” he answered gaily. “Shall I don my robes as ruler of the Invisible Empire to please the fancy of Your Majesty?”
He opened the bundle and shook out the long white ulster-like disguise with its double cross of scarlet and gold.
“Put it back—I’m not ready yet!” she gasped.
“You’ll laugh and chat a while with the audience before the curtain goes up on the drama!—good! I’ve a lot to say. Sit here in the window while I tell you something.”
He led her to the low casement of the window and seated her by his side.
She sprang to her feet instantly, grasping at her heart, her breath coming in quick gasps:
“What’s that!—Listen!”
He took her hand soothingly:
“Why, it’s only our horses neighing to each other.”
“You’re sure?” she whispered.
“Of course.”
“I thought it was something else,” she faltered. “My poor little darling! This has been too much for your nerves—you should have allowed me to come with you.”
“Yes, I’m afraid I did make a mistake!” she said in low strained tones.
“Well, there’s nothing to be afraid of now—is there?” he said assuringly.
“No! there’s nothing to be afraid of now—is there?” she laughed hysterically, and suddenly stopped with a suppressed scream.
“My darling!” he exclaimed.
“Listen! Listen! My God, what’s that?”
“It’s nothing dear.”
“It is! Listen! I hear them coming!”
“Impossible, my child, we’re all here!” he laughed. “How could you guess there was anyone coming except you and me?”
“Oh, dear, you don’t understand, and I can’t explain!” she went on frantically. She looked at her watch and couldn’t see.
“Quick, strike a match and see what time it is—we can get away!” she whispered.
He struck the match and saw her eyes gleaming with a strange madness. Stella blew the match out, seized his arm and drew him from the window.
“Not there—by the window—over here in this corner.”
“He struck another match and she masked its light from the window, staring with wide-set eyes at the hands of her watch.
“It’s half past nine. It’s too late!” she said hopelessly.
“Come, come, my darling, remember that I am by your side—nothing can harm you except the tongue of gossip, and you’ve shown your contempt for that. Sit down here again in the moonlight and let me tell you the story of my love.”
He led her back to the window and she sank tremblingly by his side.
“I’ve never had the chance to tell you,” he began, with low passionate tenderness, “what a wonderful thing your love has been in my life. The night I met you, I went to your house drunk, with murder in my heart, determined to use the lawless power I wielded to crush your father. I was about to leave with a threat to kill him on my lips. It was no idle threat then. I had entered the vault, pushed open its massive door, stepped inside and saw the way was open.”
“The night you came first, you entered alone the secret way?” she interrupted.
“Yes, I meant to use it if necessary.”
“But you never did! You never did!” she whispered.
“How could I, dearest! I saw your face that night for the first time, heard the low music of your voice, touched your hand, and I was a new man! Love, not hate, has ruled me since. I disbanded the Klan immediately and ordered my men never again to use its power.”
“Disbanded the Klan!” she repeated with choking surprise.
“Yes, and a dastard reorganised it as a local order to further his low ambitions. I’ve done my best to hold in check their crimes and follies. I warned your father of danger the night those fools came. In a madness of love, fear and jealous rage I came down to the house, sat there in dumb pain and watched your beautiful form whirl past the lighted window until I could endure it no longer.” Stella strangled a sob.
“I’ve reproached myself a hundred times I didn’t prevent that masquerade by force. I might have done it. I had some faithful old soldiers from the foothills in town that day whom I had used to capture the scoundrels who committed the outrage on old Nicaroshinski.”
“Hush! hush! before I scream!” Stella cried in anguish, placing her hand on his lips.
Suddenly a white figure stood before the window and his whistle rang through the still night.
Stella sprang to her feet gasping, with horror:
“My God! they’ve come: I must save you! Hide! Hide and give me your revolver—they shall not take you—quick—quick—hide!”
“But, my dear, there’s not the slightest danger. No man who wears that uniform will lift his hand against me—see, I’m going to answer his call with my own signal.”
He lifted the whistle to his lips and she snatched it from his grasp.
“Don’t! Don’t for God’s sake, don’t! you don’t understand—Oh!—John—darling—I love you! I love you!”
She threw herself into his arms and kissed him, passionately sobbing.
“I’ve tried to hate you, dear, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t—I know now I’ve loved you always! I must save you, God help me!”
“Well, sir?” called a voice without.
“It’s all right! Come in, boys!” he answered before Stella could stop him. She huddled in his arms paralysed for the moment with terror.
“You must not!—they will kill you, dear!” she moaned in agony.
“Nonsense, child, the boys have only a little surprise for us.”
Their feet were already echoing in the corridor and their voices could be heard in whispers and low laughter.
“Hide! please, for the love of God!” she gasped. With sudden fierce strength she pressed him into the shadows and stood panting before him, while the silent ghost-like figures ranged themselves solemnly around the room.
“Stella, my dear, you must not suffer like this—there is no danger, these are all my men.”
“Your men!—your men!” she cried, bewildered.
“Yes, I brought them here to-night in full costume to make a little play complete for the fancy of a queen!”
“My darling,” she sobbed, sinking in his arms.
“We unexpectedly met some ugly customers from the hills we had seen once before. A little pitched battle delayed us thirty minutes, but none of our boys were hurt.”
“Kiss me!” she whispered.
A distant whistle rang through the woods and the picket outside answered.
“What’s that?” Stella gasped.
“He blew the signal, ‘message for the Chief’; he’s from town, I’m afraid,” John answered.
A horse’s hoof echoed on the flagstones before the columns, and in a moment the picket rushed to the window.
“Bad news, sir!”
“What is it?” John asked quietly:
“A regiment of United States cavalry slipped into town just after dark.”
“I’ve been looking for it,” John broke in. “Well?”
“A squadron has surrounded Mrs. Wilson’s boarding house to wait for you.”
“Merciful God! what have I done!” Stella sobbed inaudibly.
John touched her hand soothingly at the sound of her sob, bent low and whispered tenderly:
“It’s all right—dearest—you love me!”
BOOK III—PRISONER AND TRAITOR
CHAPTER I—THE ARREST
THE news of the arrival of the regiment of cavalry, and the swift silent way in which they had struck their first blow, brought to John Graham at once a sharp realisation of the danger of his men.
Releasing Stella, he turned to the white figures gathered in an excited group and in short sharp accents said:
“I thank you boys for your kindness in coming to the little masquerade we had prepared to celebrate the announcement of my engagement to the woman who is the queen of my heart. Sorry the Yanks have interrupted us. Get home as fast as your horses can carry you. Burn your costumes the minute you reach a safe place. Hide them under your saddles as usual until you can burn them. Leave one at a time and go home by unused roads if possible. And listen—every man of you who can, should leave the state in twenty-four hours and stay until the trouble blows over.”
“What are you goin’ to do?” asked a tall masked figure.
“Don’t worry, Dan. I’ll look out for myself. You boys do the same and do it quick.”
“We’ll stan’ by you if ye give the word,” persisted Dan.
John left Stella’s side, stepped to the men and growled:
“I’ve given the word. Run, and run like hell!”
“We don’t like the orders, Chief, but orders is orders—git boys!”
The men quickly disappeared, and John took Stella’s hand:
“Come, dearest, we must go.”
“Yes,” she answered, timidly clinging to his arm and holding him back.
“We must hurry,” he urged.
“I won’t hurry,” she said with tender wilfulness.
“When a woman won’t, she won’t,” John laughed.
She gently stroked his hand and slowly slipped her arm in his as she allowed him to lead her out into the moonlight beside the white silent pillars.
“Wait here until I bring the horses,” John said, gently disengaging his arm.
Stella clung to him firmly.
“No, don’t go yet. Why hurry? Let them wait. I wish to be alone with you for a while here on this beautiful spot. It’s all so new and wonderful. This knowing that I love and am loved! I’ve just begun to live the past hour. I’m afraid to go back to the world.”
“I must face some stern realities to-night. But you love me. That’s the only thing of any importance. What do jails matter? They can only imprison the body—my soul will follow you, hover about you, laugh and cry with you day and night, waking or dreaming.”
“They won’t put you in jail to-night, dear?” she asked, piteously.
“Yes.”
“Then you shall not give yourself up to them! You’ll let me have my own way now that you know that I love you, won’t you, John dear? There! I’ve called your name for the first time—haven’t I?—I love your name!—You’re not going to give up to them—are you?”
“I see no other way, dearest.”
“You told your men to fly. Our horses are fresh. We can put miles between us and these troops before day. I’ll go with you, just as I am in this riding habit—no matter—I’ll get a dress somewhere when you’re out of danger.”
He slipped his arm about her, bent his tall form, and stopped her with a kiss.
“How sweet to hear you talk this beautiful nonsense!”
“I mean it,” she hurried on earnestly. “We must leave to-night, I don’t know what they may do to you. Something terrible—maybe—I can’t think of it! Something may happen to separate us. I want to feel your hand clasping mine like this forever!”
He answered by crushing the little hand in his.
“You won’t go back and let them arrest you, will you, John?” she pleaded, a sob catching her voice.
He was silent and a smile played about his mouth.
“Answer me, John dear! You must do as I say because life is too sweet and beautiful to lose it! You will leave if I go with you—won’t you? My whim you said should be your law. This is my whim, my heart’s desire. Get the horses now, and we’ll make them fly as far from Independence to-night as their heels can carry us! You’ll do this because I ask it—won’t you, darling?”
The little head began to droop, the voice broke, and she lay sobbing in his arms.
He held her close for a moment.
“You know this is impossible, dear!”—he said tenderly.
“Yes, I know!” she sobbed.
“My business is to save others now.”
“At least, you’ll go by the house and stay with me a little while?”
“They’ll think I’m hiding.”
“Who cares what they think? I can’t go home alone, can I?”
“Of course, I’ll stop a moment. And now we must hurry.”
He brought the horses and they galloped back to town in silence. Along a dark rough place of the road, they slowed down to a walk, and his hand sought hers.
“What a strange ending to the most wonderful day of my life!” she suddenly cried with passionate tenderness.
“Why strange?” he asked. “I never had a doubt that you would love me. It was written in the Book of Life.”
“But I didn’t know it until to-night.”
“Tell me, dear,” he pleaded; “what sudden flash revealed the truth?”
“Don’t ask me!” she said with a shiver. “I’ll tell you some day.”
“Why not now? This has been a wonderful day for me. I shall never live its like again. I heard for the first time the one woman I love, the only woman I ever loved, the one woman I shall love forever, speak the sweetest words that ever fell from human lips.”
“I love you—I love you!” she softly repeated.
“But tell me how you came to know it to-day?” he urged.
“It’s a secret—one I fear that will give me many an hour of anguish. I’ll tell you, dear—but not now.
“I’ll share it with you when you’ll let me.”
“Not this one, John. I need to bear it alone to keep me humble, and sweeten with suffering and fear the bitter, selfish impulses that fight within me. Oh, I want to be good and tender and beautiful and true now!”
“How full of strange moods you’ve been tonight!” he exclaimed.
“Have I dear?”
She caught his hand and pressed it tenderly.
The lights of the town flashed in view from the hill.
They galloped boldly down the main street and into the lawn. As they passed the cabin at the gate, Isaac’s face appeared a moment at the door.
“I didn’t know old Isaac had returned?” John remarked.
“Nor did I,” she replied; “he must have come with those troops.”
A tremor caught her voice as she recalled that Ackerman was in communication with Isaac, and the cords she had been winding about the man by her side began slowly to tighten around her own throat.
He tried to leave her at the door, but she drew him inside.
“You can’t go yet.”
“I must hurry, my love,” he protested. “Those men will think I’m a coward. I should have been at home when they called.”
“Sh!”——
She placed her hand over his lips, ignoring his plea.
“I’ve a little experiment to make. My whim is law. Go stand there in the alcove with your hat in your hand fumbling it.”
Laughing with girlish excitement she pressed him into the exact spot he stood the night she first met him, drew back, and gazed tenderly into his face, her big brown eyes dancing with the hysterical strain of the deep half-conscious fear for his safety which had begun to strangle her.
“Have you forgotten the first scene in the drama of our life?” she asked, slowly approaching him with extended hand.
He clasped it with a smile.
“I shall not forget it if I live to be a hundred years old,” he said reverently.
“And yet, you are trying to hurry away from me to-night again. Don’t you like the picture as well now?”
“A thousand times better, dearest,” he cried. “The love that shines in your eyes will make radiant the darkest hour of life. I’ve nothing now to fear. Perfect love has cast out fear. My way’s a shining one whether it leads to a palace or a prison.”
“Come into the dining room,” she whispered, leading him through the door and seating herself at the head of the table. “You remember the night we sat together here?”
“Do I!”
“Would you believe me if I told you that I tried to make you love me that night?”
“You said you tried to hate me.”
“But we can’t always do what we try—can we?” she asked wistfully.
“You did that night I’m sure.”
“And yet, I’m failing to-night!” she sobbed, unable to keep back the tears, “just when I’ve told you that I love you, and the joy and wonder of it all has begun to light the world. Before I’ve thought only of myself. To-night I’m thinking only of you, my sweetheart! Just as I’ve learned to speak your name I feel you slipping away from me—oh, John darling, what will they do to you? Tell me—tell me!”
“They can only put me in jail to-night.”
“But they shall not—they shall not!” she moaned, clinging close to him. “You shall not let them! You shall not leave this house except to fly with me.”
Stella’s words choked into sudden silence at the shrill angry notes of Aunt Julie Ann’s voice ringing in the hall:
“Git out er dis house, I tells ye, ‘fo I bus’ yo head open wid dis door weight.”
“Mind your own business,” snapped the angry reply.
“I’se mindin’ my own business. Git out dat door, an’ knock ‘fo yer come in! An’ I lets yer in when I gits ready—when my mistis say yer kin come!”
“Faith, an’ I’ll slap ye head off ye shoulders, if ye don’t kape still,” growled the trooper.
“What do you want in here, yer low-life sluefooted Yankee?”
“If it’s just the same ter ye, I wants Mr. John Graham, me dusky maiden!”
John suddenly released himself from Stella’s clinging form and stepped through the door into the hall.
“I’m John Graham. What is It?”
“You’re my prisoner, sir, ye’ll have to come with me!”
“I’m ready.”
The sergeant took a step toward John, drawing a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.
Stella sprang between them, her eyes blazing with rage:
“How dare you enter my house without my permission?”
The sergeant stopped in sheer amazement at the fury of her outburst. Recovering himself with a smile he replied:
“Axin yer pardon m’am, it may be rude, but hit ain’t writ in our book of etiquette ter knock at the front door when we’re huntin’ fer a man charged with murder.”
“But he’s not guilty!” Stella stormed.
“I believe ye, Miss—ye’d have an easy time with me. But I ain’t the Coort!”
“Stella, dear,” John pleaded.
“Leave this house!” Stella cried with fury.
“Sure m’am, but yer friend comes wid me,” said the sergeant, taking another step toward John.
“I tell you he’s not guilty! It’s all a mistake. I’ll explain to your commander in the morning.”
John smiled in spite of himself.
“Stella dear, this is nonsense. The sergeant is acting under orders. I must go at once.”
“Ye see, m’am!” said the sergeant with a polite bow.
“All right then, sergeant,” said Stella, suddenly changing her tone, “I’ll excuse you for your rudeness; I’ll go with you.”
“You mustn’t, my love,” John protested.
“Yes, I’m going with you, but I’ve had nothing to eat. We must have supper—it’s waiting. Aunt Julie Ann, show the sergeant downstairs and give him supper. Mr. Graham will be ready in half an hour, sergeant.”
The trooper looked doubtfully at John and at Stella, smiling.
“All right m’am. It’s agin my principles as a soldier to leave a good supper to spoil—an’, axin yer pardon agin, I’ll station one o’ me men at each door an’ window to make sure we wont lose any of our party durin’ the festivities. It’ll be more sociable like to feel that we’re all here.”
The sergeant placed his men and followed Aunt Julie Ann to the kitchen.
Stella drew John to the old davenport:
“Quick, John darling, through the old secret way—the way of love——”
“Dearest!” he said reproachfully.
She extended her hand to press the spring in the panel.
“Quick, the soldier at the door can’t see you. I’ll stand in front. Wait for me in the vault. I’ll let them search the house and when they go, I’ll join you and we can leave before daylight.”
“I must face it. There’s no other way.”
“Yes, yes, this way—the old sweet way of love! I can’t let them take you—you’re mine now—I love you—I love you!—John, dear, he has big ugly handcuffs. He was going to put them on you—didn’t you see him?”—her voice faltered.
“Yes, I saw him.”
“I can’t stand it, John, I can’t—oh, dear, you don’t understand, and I can’t explain—You love me?”
“Better than life and deeper than death.”
“And yet you refuse my heart’s desire?”
“Only in this. I’m done with lawlessness. I’m not a coward. I’ve led a successful revolution. It had to be, and now with silent lips I’ll face my accusers.”
A hot tear fell on his hand.
“Come, dearest, you must help me,” he pleaded.
“Yes, yes, I will,” she faltered, brushing the tears away. “Come then, we will have this one little supper together, shall we not?”
“Yes. I want to look across that old table into your face again.”
He chatted gaily through the supper and she sat silent, choking back the sobs, unable to eat.
The sergeant bowed at the door:
“Axin yer pardon m’am, but I must hurry now.” John rose and the trooper again drew his handcuffs, Stella watching him with wide-set eyes. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll have to put ’em on.”
“It’s all right, sergeant,” he answered.
Stella sprang between them and placed a trembling little hand on the trooper’s.
“Please, sergeant!”
“Orders, m’am, I’m sorry.”
“Please—for—my—sake—don’t. He’ll go with you. I tried to get him to fly with me, and he wouldn’t. You won’t put them on him—will you? For my sake?”
Her voice sank to the softest music of tears. The sergeant hesitated a moment and said gruffly: “All right, for your sake, m’am, I won’t.”
John stooped and kissed her. The door closed behind him and with a low piteous moan Stella sank to the floor, crying:
“God have mercy on me!”
CHAPTER II—THROUGH PRISON BARS
AN IMMENSE crowd had gathered at the hotel awaiting John’s arrival. The news of his arrest had stirred the town to feverish excitement.
Without turning to the right or left, or answering a look of recognition, he marched between two soldiers through the mass of men and boys in the office and climbed the stairs to the rooms of the United States Commissioner who was waiting to receive him.
The Commissioner handed him the warrant and he merely glanced at its title:=
```"THE UNITED STATES VERSUS JOHN GRAHAM
````CONSPIRACY AND MURDER"=
“I shall hold you without bail, Mr. Graham,” said the Commissioner.
John merely nodded his head.
“To the county jail, sergeant!”
The soldiers turned and John descended the stairs, and again passed through the crowd, his head erect, his face an immovable mask.
In fifteen minutes the heavy bolt shot into place and he was a prisoner awaiting trial for life, locked in a filthy cell of the common jail of the county of Independence.
He had often been to this jail as a lawyer to interview prisoners whom he had defended at various times, but he had paid no attention to the building. The complaints of the discomforts of the jail he had always taken as a humorous contribution to life.
He was amazed to discover that the place into which he had been suddenly thrust was an inner room opening into a corridor with no means of light or ventilation save the single iron-grilled door—a veritable hell-hole whose heat was so stifling and air so foul with disgusting odours he could scarcely breathe. By the rays of the little kerosene lamp which hung in the corridor, flickering, sputtering and stinking, he saw that there was not a trace of furniture in the room, not even a pile of straw on which to sleep. The floor had evidently not been swept in a year, the dust lay in piles, and the room had just been vacated by four perspiring Negro convicts who had been removed to the penitentiary to serve sentences for burglary, arson and murder.
It was impossible to sit down, it was unthinkable to lie down, and so for five hours back and forth he walked the length of his cell like a caged panther.
For the first hour his proud spirit was sustained by the enormity of the degradation thus heaped upon him. He felt sure that such treatment was given him for a purpose. He knew that all the prisoners of the county were not treated as swine. In his anger he paused once, determined to demand a chair or bed of some kind, and found that he could only make his wants known by yelling down two flights of stairs to the guard who stood at the outer door of the last floor. He could not thus humiliate himself.
For the first time he realised what it meant to be deprived not only of the comforts but the common decencies of human life. In fierce anger he silently raved for two hours and then a strange calm came over his soul. His hands grasped the iron bars of the door and he stood as if in a trance while the unconscious minutes lengthened into hours. A beautiful face bent above him. Her voice, low and tender with the music of love, filled all space. The stifling cell vanished. He was in the open fields with her hand in his. He woke with a laugh, and caught the glint of the first beams of the rising sun stealing through the window of the corridor.