self to believe in Jack. You seem
not to realize that such a belief would--might--stand between me and
madness. I've been trying to adjust myself to a possible scheme of
living--getting through the years till I go into nothingness. I can't.
All I can grasp is the feeling that a man might have if dropped from
a balloon and forced to stay gasping in the air, with no place in it,
nothing to hold to, no breath to draw, no earth to rest on, no end to
hope for. There is nothing beyond."

"Everything is beyond," the young man cried triumphantly. "'The end,' as
you call it, is an end to hope for--it is the beginning. The beginning
of more than you have ever had--with them, with the people you care
about."

The judge turned a ghastly look upon the impetuous, bright face. "If
I believed that, I should be even now perfectly happy. I don't see how
you Christians can ever be sorry when your friends die--it's childish;
anybody ought to be able to wait a few years. But I don't believe it,"
he said heavily, and went on again as if an inertia of speech were
carrying him as an inertia of silence had held him a few minutes before.
"When my wife died a year ago it ended my personal life, but I could
live Jack's life. I was glad in the success and honor of it. Now the
success--" he made a gesture. "And the honor--if I had that, only the
honor of Jack's life left, I think I could finish the years with
dignity. I've not been a bad man--I've done my part and lived as seemed
right. Before I'm old the joy is wiped out and long years left. Why?
It's not reasonable--not logical. With one thing to hold to, with Jack's
good name, I might live. How can I, now? What can I do? A life must have
a _raison d'etre._"

"Listen," the clergyman cried again. "You are not judging Jack as fairly
as you would judge a common criminal. You know better than I how often
juries make mistakes--why should you trust this jury to have made none?"

"I didn't trust the jury. I watched as I have never before known how to
watch a case. I felt my mind more clear and alert than common."

"Alert!" he caught at the word. "But alert on the side of
terror--abnormally clear to see what you dreaded. Because you are
fair-minded, because it has been the habit of your life to correct at
once any conscious prejudice in your judgment, you have swayed to the
side of unfairness to yourself, to Jack. Uncle," he flashed out, "would
it tear your soul to have me state the case as I see it?