y weariness. A lifetime, for his years were not yet half
spent,--a lifetime at Waupun, and work for the body, but vacuity for
the mind--maybe--sometimes--memories. Even thinking thus he seemed to
have lost the power to feel sadness.

Confusion reigned within him, and yet he found himself powerless to
correlate his thoughts or suggest reasons for the strange happenings
of the last few days. It seemed to him that he was in a dream wherein
reason played no part. In the indictment he was arraigned for the
murder of Peter Craigmile, Jr.,--as Richard Kildene,--and yet he had
seen his cousin lying dead before him, during all the years that had
passed since he had fled from that sight. In battle he had seen men
clubbed with the butt end of a musket fall dead with wounded temples,
even as he had seen his cousin--stark--inert--lifeless. He had felt
the strange, insane rage to kill that he had seen in others and
marveled at. And now, after he had felt and done it, he was arrested
as the man he had slain.

All the morning he paced his cell and tried to force his thoughts to
work out the solution, but none presented itself. Was he the victim of
some strange form of insanity that caused him to lose his identity and
believe himself another man? Drunken men he had seen under the
delusion that all the rest of the world were drunken and they alone
sober. Oh, madness, madness! At least he was sane and knew himself,
and this was a confusion brought about by those who had undertaken his
arrest. He would wait for the Elder to come, and in the meantime live
in his memories, thinking of Amalia, and so awaken in himself one
living emotion, sacred and truly sane. In the sweetness of such
thinking alone he seemed to live.

He drew the little ivory crucifix from his bosom and looked at it.
"The Christ who bore our sins and griefs"--and again Amalia's words
came to him. "If they keep you forever in the prison, still forever
are you free." In snatches her words repeated themselves over in his
mind as he gazed. "If you have the Christ in your heart--so are you
high--lifted above the sin." "If I see you no more here, in Paradise
yet will I see you, and there it will be joy--great--joy; for it is
the love that is all of life, and all of eternity, and lives--lives."

Bertrand Ballard and his wife and daughter stood in the small room
opening off from the corridor that led to the rear of the courthouse
where was the jail, waiting for the jailer to bri