My hatred now was level with the cauldron, With bubbles crackling. So the spade I took, Hidden beneath the seat may show forethought, They caught the jury with that argument, And forethought does it show, but who made me To have such forethought?"

"Then I called for her And took her to the dance. I was most gay, Because the load was lifted from my mind, And I had found relief. And so we danced.

And she danced with this fellow. I was calm, Believed somehow he had not had her yet.

And if his knee touched hers--why let it go.

Nothing beyond shall happen, even this Shall not be any more."

"We started home.

Before we reached that clump of woods I asked her If she would marry me. She laughed at me.

I asked her if she loved that other man.

She said you are a silly boy, and laughed.

And then I asked her if she'd marry me, And if she would not, why she would not do it.

We came up to the woods and she was silent, I could not make her speak. I stopped the horse.

She sat all quiet, I could see her face Under the brilliance of the moon. I saw A thin smile on her face--and then I struck her, And from the floor grabbed up the iron wrench, And struck her, took her out and laid her down, And did what was too horrible, they say, To do and keep my life. To finish up I reached back for the iron wrench, first felt Her breast to find her heart, no use of wrench, She was already dead. I took the spade, Sc.r.a.ped off the leaves between two trees and dug, And buried her and said: 'My Chariclea No man shall have you.' Then I drove till morning, And after some days reached Missouri, where They caught me."

So Fred Taylor told me all, Filled in the full confession that he made, And which they used in court, with looks and words, Scarce to be reproduced; but to the last He said the mathematics of his birth Accounted for his deed.

Is it not true?

If you resolved the question that the jury Resolved, did he know right from wrong, did he Know what he did, the jury answered truly To give the rope to him. Or if you say These mathematics may be true, and still A man like that is better out of way, And saying so become the very spirit, And reason which slew Gertrude, disregarding The devil of heredity which clutched him, As he put by the reason we obey, It may be well enough, I do not know.

Now for last night before this morning fixed To swing him off. His lawyers went to see The governor to win reprieval, perhaps A commutation. I could see his eyes Had two lights in them; one was like a lantern With the globe greased, which showed he could not see Himself in death tomorrow--what is that In the soul that cannot see itself in death?

No to-morrow, continuation, the wall, the end!

And yet this very smear upon the globe Was death's half fleshless hand which rubbed across His senses and his hope. The other light Was weirdly bright for terror, expectation Of good news from the governor.

For his lawyers Were in these hours pet.i.tioning. He would ask: "No news? No word? What is the time?" His tongue Would fall back in his throat, we saw the strain Of his stretched soul. He'd sit upon his couch Hands clasped, head down. Arise and hold the bars, Himself fling on the couch face down and shake.

But when he heard the hammers ring that nail The scaffold into shape, he whirled around Like a rat in a cage. And when the sand bag fell, That tested out the rope, a m.u.f.fled thug, And the rope creaked, he started up and moaned "You're getting ready," and his body s.h.i.+vered, His white hands could not hold the bars, he reeled And fell upon the couch again.

Suppose There was no whiskey and no morphia, Except for what the parsons think fit use, A poor weak fellow--not a Socrates-- Must march the gallows, walk with every nerve Up-bristled like a hair in fright. This night Was much too horrible for me. At last I had the doctor dope him unaware, And for a time he slept.

But when the dawn Looked through the little windows near the ceiling Cob-webbed and grimed, with light like sanded water, And echoes started in the corridors Of feet and objects moved, then all at once He sprang up from his sleep, and gave a groan, Half yell, that shook us all.

A clergyman Came soon to pray with him, and he grew calmer, And said: "O pray for her, but pray for me That I may see her, when this riddle-world No longer stands between us, slipped from her And soon from me."

For breakfast he took coffee, A piece of toast, no more. The sickening hour Approaches--he is sitting on his couch, Bent over, head in hands, dazed, or in prayer.

My deputy reads the warrant--while I stand At one side so to hear, but not to see.

And then my clerk comes quickly through the door That opens from the office in the jail; Runs up the iron steps, all out of breath, And almost shouts: "The governor telephones To stop; the sentence is commuted." Then I grew as weak as the culprit--took the warrant, And stepped up to the cell's door, coughed, inhaled, And after getting breath I said: "Good news, The governor has saved you."

Then he laughed, Half fell against the bars, and like a rag Sank in a heap.

I don't know to this day What moved the governor. For crazy men Are hanged sometimes. To-day he leaves the jail.

We take him where the criminal insane Are housed at our expense.

So Merival heard the sheriff. As he knew The governor's mind, and how the governor Gave heed to public thought, or what is deemed The public thought, what's printed in the press, He wondered at the governor. For no crime Had stirred the county like this crime. And if A jury and the courts adjudged this boy Of nineteen in his mind, what was the right Of interference by the governor?

So Merival was puzzled. They were chums, The governor and Merival in old days.

Had known club-life together, ate and drank Together in the days when Merival Came to Chicago living down the hurt He took from her who left him. In those days The governor was struggling, Merival Had helped with friends and purse--and later helped The governor's ambition from the time He went to congress. So the two were friends With memories and secrets for the stuff Of friends.h.i.+p, glad renewal of the surge Of lasting friends.h.i.+p when they met.

And now He sensed a secret, meant to bring it forth.

And telegraphed the governor, who said: "I'll see you in Chicago." Merival Went up to see the governor and talk.

They had not met for months for leisured talk.

And now the governor said: "I'll tell you all, And make it like a drama. I'll bring in My wife who figured in this murder case.

It was this way: It's nearly one o'clock, I'm back from hearing lawyers plead. I wish To make this vivid so you'll get my mind.

I tell you what I said to her. It's this:"

THE GOVERNOR

I'm home at last. How long were you asleep?

I startled you. The time? It's midnight past.

Put on your slippers and your robe, my dear, And make some coffee for me--what a night!

Yes, tell you? I shall tell you everything.

I must tell someone, and a wife should know The workings of a governor's mind--no one Could guess what turned the scale to save this man Who would have died to-morrow, but for me.

That's fine. This coffee helps me. As I said This night has been a trial. Well, you know I told these lawyers they could come at eight, And so they came. A seasoned lawyer one, The other young and radical, both full Of sentiment of some sort. And there you sit, And do not say a word of disapproval.

You smile, which means you sun yourself within The power I have, and yet do you approve?

This man committed brutal murder, did A nameless horror; now he's saved from death.

The father and the mother of the girl, The neighborhood, perhaps, in which she lived Will roar against me, think that I was bought, Or used by someone I'm indebted to In politics. Oh no! It's really funny, Since it is simpler than such things as these.

And no one, saving you, shall know the secret.

For there I sat and didn't say a word To indicate, betray my thought; not when The thing came out that moved me. Let them read The doctor's affidavits, that this man Was crazy when he killed the girl, and read The transcript of the evidence on the trial.

They read and talked. At last the younger lawyer, For sometime still, kept silent by the other, Pops out with something, reads an affidavit, As foreign to the matter as a story Of melodrama color on the screen, Which still contained a sentence that went home; I felt my mind turn like a turn-table, And click as when the switchman kicks the tongue Of steel into the slot that holds the table.

And from my mind the engine, that's the problem, Puffed, puffed and moved away, out on the track, And disappeared upon its business. How Is that for metaphor? Your coffee, dear, Stirs up my fancy. But to tell the rest, If my face changed expression, or my eye Betrayed my thought, then I have no control Of outward seeming. For they argued on An hour or so thereafter. And I asked Re-reading of the transcript where this man Told of his maniac pa.s.sion, of the night He killed the girl, the doctors' testimony I had re-read, and let these lawyers think My interest centered there, and my decision Was based upon such matters, and at last The penalty commuted. When in truth I tell you I had let the fellow hang For all of this, except that I took fire Because of something in this affidavit Irrelevant to the issue, reaching me In something only relevant to me.

O, well, all life is such. Our great decisions Flame out of sparks, where roaring fires before, Not touching our combustibles wholly failed To flame or light us.

Now the secret hear.

Do you remember all the books I read Two years ago upon heredity, Foot-notes to evolution, the dynamics Of living matter? Well, it wasn't that That made me save this fellow. There you smile For knowing how and when I got these books, Who woke my interest in them. Never mind, You don't know yet my reasons.

But I'll tell you: And let you see a governor's mind at work.

When this young lawyer in this affidavit Read to a certain place my mind strayed off And lived a time past, you were present too.

It was that morning when I pa.s.sed my crisis, Had just dodged death, could scarcely speak, too weak To lift a hand to feed myself, but needed Vital replenishment of strength, and then I got it in a bowl of oyster soup, Rich cream at that. And as I live, my dear, As this young lawyer read, I felt myself In bed as I lay then, re-lived the weakness, Could see the spoon that carried to my mouth The appetizing soup, imagined there The feelings I had then of getting fingers Upon the rail of life again, how faint, But with such clear degrees. Could see the hand That held the spoon, the eyes that looked at me In triumph for the victory of my strength, Which battled, almost lost the prize of life.

It all came over me when this lawyer read: Elenor Murray lately come from France Found dead beside the river, was the cousin Of this Fred Taylor, and had planned to come To see the governor, death prevented her-- Suppose it had?

That affidavit, doubtless Was read to me to move me for the fact This man was kindred to a woman who Served in the war, this lawyer was that cheap!

And isn't it as cheap to think that I Could be persuaded by the circ.u.mstance That Elenor Murray, she who nursed me once, Was cousin to this fellow, if this lawyer Knew this, and did he know it? I don't know.

Had Elenor Murray lived she would have come To ask her cousin's life--I know her heart.

And at the last, I think this was the thing: I thought I'd do exactly what I'd do If she had lived and asked me, disregard Her death, and act as if she lived, repay Her dead hands, which in life had saved my life.

Now, dear, your eyes have tears--I know--believe me, I had no romance with this Elenor Murray.

Good Lord, it's one o'clock, I must to bed....

You get my story Merival? Do you think, A softness in the heart went to the brain And softened that? Well now I stress two things: I can't endure defeat, nor bear to see An ardent spirit thwarted. What I've achieved Has been through will that would not bend, and so To see that in another wins my love, And my support. Now take this Elenor Murray She had a will like mine, she worked her way As I have done. And just to hear that she Had planned to see me, ask for clemency For this condemned degenerate, made me say Shall I let death defeat her? Take the breach And make her death no matter in my course?

For as I live if she had come to me I had done that I did. And why was that?

No romance! Never that! Yet human love As friend can keep for friend in this our life I felt for Elenor Murray--and for this: It was her will that would not take defeat, Devotion to her work, and in my case This depth of friends.h.i.+p welling in her heart For human beings, that I shared in--there Gave tireless healing to her nursing hands And saved my life. And for a life a life.

This criminal will live some years, we'll say, Were better dead. All right. He'll cost the state Say twenty thousand dollars. What is that Contrasted with the cost to me, if I Had let him hang? There is a bank account, Economies in the realm of thought to watch.

And don't you think the souls--let's call them souls-- Of these avenging, law abiding folk, These souls of the community all in all Will be improved for hearing that I did A human thing, and profit more therefrom Than though that sense of balance in their souls Struck for the thought of crime avenged, the law Fulfilled and vindicated? Yes, it's true.

And Merival spoke up and said: "It's true, I understand your story, and I'm glad.

It's like you and I'll tell my jury first, And they will scatter it, what moved in you And how this Elenor Murray saved a life."