e waiting; they were straining against his doubts and his
weakening resolution of past days, with the concentration of half a
thousand minds.

A moment of joy is a drop of honey on the tongue; a moment of pain is
bitterer than any essence that Ignatius ever distilled from his evil
bean. The one is as transitory as a smile; the other as lingering as a
broken bone.

Joe had hung in the balance but a matter of seconds, but it seemed to
him a day. Now he lifted his slim, white hand and covered his eyes. They
were waiting for the word out there, those uplifted, eager faces; the
judge waited, the jury waited, mother waited. They were wringing it from
him, and honor's voice was dim in its counsel now, and far away.

They were pressing it out of his heart. The law demanded it, justice
demanded it, said the judge. Duty to mother demanded it, and the call of
all that lay in life and liberty. But for one cool breath of sympathy
before he yielded--for one gleam of an eye that understood!

He dropped his hand at his side, and cast about him in hungry appeal.
Justice demanded it, and the law. But it would be ignoble to yield, even
though Morgan came the next hour and cleared the stain away.

Joe opened his lips, but they were dry, and no sound issued. He must
speak, or his heart would burst. He moistened his lips with his hot
tongue. They were demanding his answer with a thousand burning eyes.

"Tell it, Joe--tell it all!" pleaded his mother, reaching out as if to
take his hand.

Joe's lips parted, and his voice came out of them, strained and shaken,
and hoarse, like the voice of an old and hoary man.

"Judge Maxwell, your honor----"

"No, no! Don't tell it, Joe!"

The words sounded like a warning call to one about to leap to
destruction. They broke the tenseness of that moment like the noise of a
shot. It was a woman's voice, rich and full in the cadence of youth;
eager, quick, and strong.

Mrs. Newbolt turned sharply, her face suddenly clouded, as if to
administer a rebuke; the prosecutor wheeled about and peered into the
room with a scowl. Judge Maxwell rapped commandingly, a frown on his
face.

And Joe Newbolt drew a long, free breath, while relief moved over his
troubled face like a waking wind at dawn. He leaned back in his chair,
taking another long breath, as if life had just been granted him at a
moment when hope seemed gone.

The effect of that sudden warning had been stunning. For a few seconds
the princip