The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1900-07-27
cuAprDp vJIJ-(Continued.)


bring him in guilty. My poor friend,
It will be more than you can Dear
Come with me now"
The mothers head is bowed, her lips
form a faint NO" Then with an Ell
fort she raises herself and looks stead
lily at her son, who must know HIM
self that his cause has been lost.
His counsel sits with bent head and
moody face. There Is mystery IN the
Portraven bank robbery that even ne
cannot fathom, unless, indeed, the
prisoner is the hardened criminal SO
aptly described by the judge as he
Numbered out to the jury the sin OF
one law for the rich and another for
the poor.
There is not long to walt. The jury
come back to their box with their
minds made up.
GUILTY."
. Every one expected 1t, but yet a
thrill as of horror shudders over the
crowd as the wind signs and waves
over a field of corn-a wave of feeling
that makes itself felt. Then, for the
first time, despair dark and terrible,
whitens the prisoners face. He hears
his mothers broken utterance. OF his
name, and his eyes turn to her with
passion of regret; then he nerves him
self to receive his sentence.
Even Sebastian Saville turns cold as
he listens.
The Judge is a stern Judge, and de-
termined not to let the prisoners po-
sition stand in the way of being made
an example of. Five years penal serv-
itude is the least he can give-fve
years in which this hardened sinner
will have time to repent. Before he
pronounces the sentence he delivers a
homily on the sin of gambling, the
yearly increasing sin Of betting on ev-
cry race. He points out how, in this
case, it has brought the prisoner at the
bar to temptation and sin, and finally
to the awful position in which he now
stands. And then the dreadful SEN
tence-five years penal servitude; and
George Bouverie, white as death, like
a man going to the scaffold, goes from
the dock out of the sight of his fellow
men.
His mothers eyes, dry with an ag-
ony that is fearless, gaze after him.
"Will they let me see him?" she says
little wildly.
my son, my darling!"
Ay. we're he the sinner the trial has
proved him to be, he is hers still, the
mother-love is his in spite of all.
II will try and arrange an inter-
view" DR.. Carter says huskily. my
poor friend, nothing can say can
comfort you. There, there, try and
fight off the faintness; let me take you
into the air.
Sympathetic voices whisper, "She Is
his mother" as the doctor pushes his
way out through the crowd, half car
rying Mrs. Bouverie, who feels as II
her heart were breaking.
They had told her not to hope, that
the Crown was sure Of conviction,
but the hope had not died till the
words FIVE years penal servitude fell
on her ears. Up to that moment the
mother had believed In some proof OF
Georges innocence being produced.
1t is all over now. He has been led
away free man no longer, to live out
a hideous nightmare of days and
weeks and years, crushed, ruined and
disgraced; and he had said he was in
uocent!
II is the same evening; but the glad,
bright morning has turned to rain, and
the drops race down the window
panes. Sebastian Saville sits opposite
his mother at the other end Of the
long dinner table. His face bears an
expression of satisfaction. They are
discussing the all-absorbing topic OF
the bank robbery.
"The Judge charged dead against
him. Sebastian says, filling his wine
glass. "The jury was not ten minutes
out of their box"
Mrs. Saville, as usual, regally attired
IN Sdllu anu law oniiiCo hdAA oAoo6ASN
ably.
ut is very fortunate 1t was all over
before Barbara's return. She will hard
,ly care for going on with her farce of
an engagement now"
Hardly" sneers Mr.. Saville, lean
ing back in luxurious contentment.
Even Barbara wouldn't be mad
enough to wish to marry a convict
Then he stands up and strolls over to
the window. What a wet night
suggest we try and forget the Eou-
verie episode. What do you say to our
taking Barbara to London, or abroad,
or somewhere? She'll get over 1t soon
enough"
"A very good suggestion" Mrs. sa-
VILE returns. Il am sorry for Mrs.
Bouverie, of course, but for her un-
principled son have no pity. 1t viii
rest with yourself, Sebastian, to win
Barbara I think tour on the con-
tinent would be the best plan Being
IN mourning, we could not go to any