th murder. But when I thought of what might come to
her as _accessory after the fact--accessory--after--the--fact_--do
you understand?--I shivered before a Scotch justice for the first
time in my life.

"But the thing that galls me," he went on, and his pride spoke, "is
that yon London-man, Magendie, may never know I had the truth
concerning the affair. With Ferrars vs. Lorrimer, Annesly vs. Ingraham,
and Cobham, Greenly, and Spencer vs. the Crown[10] at my tongue's end,
did he think I'd let a case of resting on letter-evidence like his pass
as I did without some weighty reason for my silence?

[10] "Famous Forgeries," Benson.

"But the queer thing of it is that I feel a better man somehow for
having done my duty loosely; for, John, I had at home, when that letter
was produced in court, one sent by messenger, dated a half-hour later
by the duke himself, asking me to meet him the following morning to
overlook some papers before he signed them, which, had I produced,
would have ended the whole defense.

"She's just upset all my creeds and conduct. I could no more have hurt
her as she sat looking at me with those big soft eyes of hers than I
could have murdered a baby. What did I tell you years agone?" he cried,
turning upon me with some fierceness--"That ye can't do anything with
women folks. Inherited mother instincts make them protect anything, and
when it comes to one they love, they'll falsify, not knowing that
they're doing it, and justify the lies by Scripture, if need be.

"But when a man comes to die it's his mother he calls for; 'tis the
touch of her hand he wants, and her breast to lean against as when he
was a wee bit bairn, for he knows the worth of a heart that is all for
him, right or wrong, through sickness, disgrace, and death. And in the
long nights I watched by the child's bedside I learned more, Jock
Stair, than any intellectual work could ever bring me, for the love I
had for her, and the thought of woman's love as mother, wife, and
daughter, raised me more, made me a finer man, a more uplifted one than
I have ever been, even when it made me soft about my duty. It seems a
bit muddled, but it's a solemn truth."

"I knew you'd find it out, Hugh Pitcairn, and you'd have known what
ye've been trying to tell me years ago if you'd had a wife and children
of your own. You're such a splendid fellow," I cried, "it's a pity you
haven't."

"I've been wishing I had," he said simply.

"And why not?"