The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1910-12-22
CON T RITI0N
BY ). A. o.
(GOntinueG

-
the details of both places; and so will
lido not forget the scenes but
ring down the curtain
A Court Room, it's all over, the
trial is finished, the jury is out.
Robert sits behind his attorney, and
Beatrice, Father Owens, and baby
Eddie sit back of him. The trial
has been against Roberts wishes, he
wanted to plead guilty, but Beatrice
and his attorney thought different,
and their counsel prevailed. 1t has
been a fair trial; perhaps the prose-
cutting attorney has been just little
harsh in his grilling of the accused;
perhaps the attorney tor the defence
rather overdid his part in his plea
for mercy, but the jury will strike a
balance, they were good jury, ca
pable of judging the facts from the
evidence. They could all read and
write, except one, and he being an
experienced juryman, was elected
foreman. The jury is coming in,
the silence is intense, the room is
crowded. The jurists file into their
seats, they are asked. Gentlemen of
the jury, have you agreed Oh YER
dict?" I'VE have,' says the fore
man, and hands paper to the Clerk,
who hands it to the Judge, who
looks at it, hands it back to the
Clerk. Oh, these seconds of Eterni-
tvs length! And that little paper!
What human desolation it carries
in it's few simple words: We, the
jury, find the defendant guilty as
charged in the Indictment" The
jury is thanked by the Court, and
excused from further attendance in
this case.
Robert turns to his wife, with the
anguish of despair on his face, and
silently grasps her hand. He can
not speak, his looks tell all he would
say. She, too, is speechless, but the
suffering she is undergoing is plain
ly visible on her rigid features. A
few twitches of the muscles of the
mouth, a slight culver of the chin, a
gasp, and-she sinks to her chair in
a dead faint, supported by Robert
and his father, who has sprung to
his assistance. While Baby Eddie
asks With tears, is mamma dead?'
The Court, in pronouncing SEN
tence, remarked that it would be
as lenient as possible, owing to the
previous good character of the pris-
oner at the bar, but five years was
the least sentence it could give, and
five years it was.
Beatrice had staid by his side to
the last minute, and only left him
when the deputy had come to take
him away to prison. Hastily kiss
ing him good bye, she turned away
with breaking heart, to return to
the now desolate home.
Of Roberts prison life it is un-
necessary to dwell. He was too
broken-hearted to care for anything
that might happen to him now. His
first night in his cell seemed to put
him beyond the sympathy of even
God. Certainly hell could be no
worse than to be locked up with his
own thoughts, for it was hell? And
Beatrice found life almost as desc
late. everything in their home re-
minded her of him. She had loved
him so dearly, and had been SO proud
of him; and now he was in prison
for crime. And she was left alone
to fight the battle of life for herself
and little son. What should she do?
She could not 60 back to Langley
and take her child, with this awful
shame and disgrace hanging over
her! How could she face the old
friends and neighbors, after what
had happened? She could not do il;
she had too much pride for that.
She was better off in the city. Her
pride would not let her accept the
kind requests of Roberts parents
that she come acd share their home
For was it not dear old Father
Owens who b a d almost beggared
himself AMI wife, to make good Rob
ert's shortage at the bank? He had
turned over all his property to the
bank, in the hopes that he might
save Robert from prison, and this
the bank officials partly promised
until they secured his property and
then they told him that they could
not do it, for it would be compound
ing felony and as it was out OF
their hands, they could do nothing
for him. They did, however, make
ona nnnnaSainn thew allowed him