the desolate heart of the girl he had married. Governor Willard
gave the full weight of his position and his sterling manhood to his
wife in her grief.

He had employed the best lawyer in his state to defend Cook--Daniel W.
Vorhees, whose eloquence had given him the title of "The Tall Sycamore
of the Wabash."

When the great advocate rose, his towering figure commanded a painful
silence in the crowded court room. The people, who packed every inch of
its space, hated the man who had lived among them for more than a year
as a spy. But he had a wife, he had a sister. And in this solemn hour he
should have his day in court. The crowd listened to Vorhees' speech with
rapt attention.

His appeal was not based on the letter of the law. He took broader,
higher grounds. He sketched the dark days of blood-cursed Kansas. He saw
a handsome prodigal son, lured by the spirit of adventure, drawn into
its vortex of blind passions. He pictured the sinister figure of the
grim Puritan leader condemned to death. He told of the spell this evil
mind had thrown over a sensitive boy's soul. He pleaded for mercy
and forgiveness, for charity and divine love. He pictured the little
Virginia girl at his side drawn into the tragedy by a deathless love. He
sketched in words that burned into the souls of his hearers the love of
his sister, a love big and tender and strong, a love that had followed
him in the far frontiers with prayers, a love that encircled him in the
darkness of deeds of violence against the forms of law and order. He
pleaded for her and the distinguished Governor of a great state, not
because of their high position in life but because they had hearts that
could ache and break.

When he had finished his remarkable speech, strong men who hated Cook
were sobbing. The room was bathed in tears. The stern visaged judge made
no effort to hide his.

The court charged the jury to do impartial justice under the laws of the
commonwealth.

There could be but one verdict. It was solemnly given by the foreman and
the judge pronounced the sentence of death.

Two soft arms stole around the doomed man's neck, and then, before the
court, crowd and God as witnesses, the little wife tenderly cried:

"My lover--my sweetheart--my husband--through evil report and
through good report, through life, through death, through all
eternity--I--love--you!"

Again strong men wept and turned from one another to hide the signs of
their weakness.

The