Part 21 (2/2)

That's my twenty-odd years of savings--except what I've spent to bring up my boy. I've got no more.”

”My dear Madam,” said Judge Henderson again, sighing, ”life certainly has its trials at times.” A remark sufficiently ba.n.a.l to pa.s.s muster with both his hearers, Aurora Lane here and Anne Oglesby in the room beyond. But, still ignorant of any other auditor, Aurora went on as though she had not heard him:

”I thought I'd come and talk to you--at last. If only Don could get out, I'd be willing to leave with him. We'd never trouble anybody any more.”

Her face was turned to him beseechingly.

”I know, of course, that you could save him if you liked.... I've had a pretty hard time of it. Don't you want to do this for him--for us--how can you _help_ wanting to? You, of all men! My G.o.d! Oh, my G.o.d!”

”Hus.h.!.+ Hus.h.!.+ Don't speak so loud! Pray compose yourself, my dear Madam,”

exclaimed Judge Henderson, himself so far from composed. His own face was ghastly in its open apprehension. ”He's ruined himself, that's all, that boy,” he concluded lamely.

She stood before him, stony cold, for a time, growing whiter and whiter.

”And what about my own ruin? What does it leave to me, if they take my boy--all I have in the world? I didn't think you could hesitate a moment--not even you!” Her voice, icy cold, was that of another woman.

He turned from her, flinging out his hands. ”He has disgraced you----”

he began, still weakly; for he at least knew he was doubly on the defensive now, before these two women, terrible in their love.

”No, he has not!” flared Aurora Lane at last. ”If I've had disgrace it's not through any fault of his. If he raised a hand in my defense, it was the first man's hand that has been raised for me in all this town--in all my life!”

She held before him again the tight-folded little bill, seeking with trembling fingers to unfold it so that he might see its pitifully small denomination. She shook it in his face in sudden rage. ”That's my life savings! If there was such a thing as justice in the world, would I be helpless as this--so helpless that I could find it possible to come here to talk to you? Justice? Justice! Ah, my G.o.d in heaven!”

Aurora Lane's voice was slightly rising. She was fronting him in the last courage of despair. ”You'd see that boy perish--you'd let him die?

If I thought that was true, I'd be willing to do everything I could to ruin this town. I'd pull the roof down on it if I were strong enough.

I'd throw myself away, indeed. I'd curse G.o.d--I'd die. Above all, I'd curse you, with my last breath.”

Anne, in the next room, rooted in the horror of her silence, could not have heard his reply, but almost she might have pictured him, standing white, ghastly, trembling, as he was when he heard these words.

”But you can't do it--you can't deny him--he's a human being like yourself--he's part of----Ah, you'll get him free, I know!” Aurora's voice was pleading now. Judge Henderson's own voice was hoa.r.s.e, unnatural, when at last he got it.

”Look at this message,” he croaked, in a half whisper; and showed her the crumpled bit of paper which he had held in his own hand. He beckoned to her--yet again--for silence, but she did not understand.

”What is it?” asked Aurora. ”What do you mean?”

”From the state's attorney! I have accepted this retainer. I'm of the prosecution! You have come too late. What can I do?”

”Prosecution--what do you mean? Prosecute him--_Don_? Too late--my G.o.d!

Am I always too late--is it always in all the world for me--too late!

Prosecute _him_? What do you _mean_?”

The sudden, wailing cry broke from her. Then her voice trailed off into a whisper--a whisper which might have been heard very far--which was heard through the half-closed door which led to the inner room. ”Too late!” And at length the long-tried soul of Aurora Lane broke out in a final and uncontrolled rebellion, all bounds down, all restraint forgotten, every instinct at last released of its long fettering:

”You disown him--you'd disown your own flesh and blood--you'd let him die! Why, you'd betray your own Master for the price of office and of honor! Oh, I know, I know! The limelight! Publicity! Oh, you Judas!--Ah, Judas! Judas! You, his father! _Your own son!_”

<script>