t his mind was absorbed in
what was transpiring. He beheld the shameful injustice and inhumanity
of the trial. Though he had kissed his Master's face, his soul winced
from the blows and spittle that befell it. Perhaps he had entertained
some lingering hope and expectation that when the worst came to the
worst the Master would use on His own behalf the power He had so often
used for others. But if that thought had lodged in his mind, the dream
was terribly dissipated. "He saw that He was condemned."

Then the full significance of his sin burst upon him. The veil fell
from his eyes, and he stood face to face with his crime in all its
naked horror. His ingratitude, his treachery, his petty pilfering, his
resistence of a love which the strong waters of death could not
extinguish. And the money scorched his hand. A wild and haggard man,
he made his way into the presence of the chief priests and scribes, as
they were congratulating themselves on the success of their plot.
There was despair on his face, a piercing note in his voice, anguish in
his soul; the flames of hell were already consuming him, the thirst of
the bottomless pit already parching his lips; his hand convulsively
clutched the thirty pieces of silver.

"I have sinned," he cried. "I have sinned. He whom you have condemned
is innocent; take back your money, only let Him go free; and oh,
relieve me, ye priests, accustomed to deal with burdened hearts,
relieve me of this intolerable pain."

But they said, with a gleam as of cold steel, "What is that to us?
That is your business. You made your bargain, and you must stand to
it: see thou to it."

He knew that it was useless to parley with them. That icy sarcasm,
that haughty indifference, told him how man must ever regard his
miserable act. He had already refused the love of God, and dared not
expect anything more from it. He foresaw how coming ages would spurn
and abhor him. There seemed, therefore, nothing better than to leap
into the awful abyss of suicide. It could bring nothing worse than he
was suffering. Oh, if he had only dared to believe in the love of God,
and had fallen even then at the feet of Jesus, he might have become a
pillar in His temple, and an apostle of the Church. But he dared not
think that there could be mercy for such as he was. He passes out into
the morning air, the most wretched of men, shrinks away into some
lonely spot, puts a rope around his neck, and dies.

We