walked, they had quarreled, all the old fire of his father had come
back--perhaps the boy was not to blame--and, standing there alone with
the girl who would not promise to be his wife, in his rage he had
struck her, and over the cliff she had gone, down, down, on the cruel
rocks, to her death, and he had fled over the mountains till, goaded
by conscience, haunted by awful guilt, he had come home and given
himself up.

The crowd shuddered as he spoke. Tom Reed fainted, Andrew Malden grew
deathly white and raised his wan hand in protest, but still the
speaker kept on. Job listened as if it were of another he spoke. He
could see it all--how awful it was!--and it was Jane and he had done
it! He almost believed he had; that man who stood there, carrying the
whole throng with him, made it so clear. The voice ceased. Then Job
roused himself. The consciousness that it was all false, terribly
false, came over him, and he leaned hard on God.

The attorney for the defense said but a word. For a moment it thrilled
the multitude. It was a strange speech. This is what he said: "Your
honor and gentlemen of the jury, the only defense I have is the
character of the young man. I can say nothing more than you have heard
to show how far beneath him is such a crime as this. I know you doubt
his word, I know you are against him; but, before these people who
know me as an infidel--before God who looks down and knows the hearts
of men--I want to say that I believe in Job Malden. What I have seen
of him in these awful days has changed my whole life. Henceforth I
believe in God."

It was over. The judge was charging the jury, "Bring in a verdict
consistent with the facts, gentlemen; the facts, not sentiment." The
sun was setting. The jury retired for the night; they would bring in a
verdict in the morning.

But the verdict was in. Even Andrew Malden groaned as he leaned on
Tony's arm, "Oh, Tony! Tony! How could he have done it!" As Job turned
to go back to his cell, he looked over that great crowd for one face
that trusted him, but on each seemed written, "Guilty!" He felt as if
the whole world had turned from him and the years had gone for naught.
There was no voice to whisper a loving word. "Forsaken! forsaken!" He
said it over and over. His head was hot, his pulse was feverish. He
longed for the touch of his mother's hand; he was hungry for the sound
of Jane's voice; he longed to lay his head on Andrew Malden's knee;
but he was alone--