Did I or did his father? It was like this. I am ashamed to tell it, but, oh, judge, I _loved_ him, and I longed to make the pretty things and buy the dainty ones that would make his soft, white, dimpled flesh look sweeter when he should lie before me. His father was--you knew his father, judge. He was a good man, but-- You know how he loved money--and power. He-- I-- I was the pauper most young wives are. I was too proud to ask for money, and if I _had_ asked often-- But I was too proud, so, perhaps, I need not tell about the if. Most women know it, and-- You could not understand."

She paused. A panic had overtaken her nerves. She was becoming vaguely conscious of her position. Her eyes wandered over the room; but when they fell upon her son, sitting with his wretched face pinched and startled, with his deep eyes staring at her, her courage came again.

"At first I had no thought of theft. I used to go each night after my husband fell asleep and take a little money from his pocket. Only a little. He never missed it--never. So he used to whip the boy for stealing afterward and said he would disgrace us and-- I never told him even then. Life was horrible. The growing certainty maddened me. He would steal anything, everything about the house, even his own things.

He did not understand himself and he could not help it; but I did not think it would ever come to _this_--through me--_through me!_"

She calmed herself again suddenly by a glance at her son.

"Every night I took only a little money. My motive was a good one.

I knew my husband did not understand how I longed to get the pretty things. How-- Of course in one sense I had a right to the money. He was rich even then, but--I _felt_ myself a--pauper--and a thief.

"I-- Do you think young mothers should be young paupers, judge? I've sometimes thought that if they were not there might be less use for courts like this--and prisons.

"I've sometimes thought if mothers sat on juries they'd know the reasons why for crime and wrong and, maybe, work to cure the causes of the crimes rather than simply punish those who have committed them blindly--_often blindly_.

"I've sometimes thought the cost--in money--would be less; and then the cost in love and sorrow! Oh, judge, be patient just a little longer.

Do not let them stop me. It means so much to _us!_ I'll go back to the point. I'll tell the truth--all of it--all. But it is hard to do it--here.

"I bought the little wardrobe; but remember, judge, the months and months of daily building, bone on bone, fibre within fibre, thought on thought that is moulded into shape for human beings!

"I knew your father, judge. Your eyes are like his, but all your mental life--your temperament--you got from other blood than filled his veins.

"Your father's mother gave you your character. Your gentle heart is hers--your patient thoughtfulness. I knew her well. I knew your mother, too. She was the teacher of my motherhood. It was to her I told the truth in my boy's childhood--when I first began to realize or fear what I had done. You owe it all to her that you are strong and true. She understood in time--and now you sit in judgment on my boy, whose mother learned from yours too late the meaning and the danger of it all.

She saved my other children. I killed my pride for them. _I asked for money_. The others may be _beggars_ some day--they never will be thieves.

"That boy has never asked a favor. He simply cannot. His pride was always stronger than anything--anything except his love for me.

"I knit that in his blood too. I loved him so I made myself a thief for him. Of course I did not know--I did not understand the awful danger then; but-- A young mother--I--it is hard to tell it here. You will not understand--you cannot. Oh, G.o.d, for a mother on the jury! A mother on the bench!"

She caught at her escaping courage again. The officer whose duty it was to take her away moved forward a second time, and a second time the judge motioned him back. She had been his mother's friend ever since he could remember, and the ordinary discipline of the court was not for her. He would do his duty, he said to himself, but surely there was no haste. All this was irregular, of course, but if something should come of it that gave excuse for a new trial no one would be more thankful than he.

"Young mothers are so ignorant. They know so little of all the things of which they should know much. They are so helpless. Judge, there will be criminal courts and prisons--oh, so many of both--just as long as motherhood is ignorant and helpless and swayed by feeling only. Don't you know it is ignorance and feeling that leads to crime? If people only understood! If only they were able to think it out to what it means, crimes would not be--but they cannot, they cannot! Those trembling lips you see before you are no more truly a copy of mine--the boy is as responsible for the set and curve of those lips--as he is for his hopeless fault. He has stolen from his infancy; but I, not he, am the thief. Now sentence the real criminal, judge. Courts are to punish the guilty--not to further curse the helpless victims. I am the criminal here. Sentence me!"

"Mother! Mother! I never understood my-self before! Oh, mother, mother!"

It was a wild cry from Walter Banks as his mother had risen asking for sentence on herself. He sprang forward, forgetting everything and took her in his arms. There was a great stir in the room.

"Silence in the court!"

Mrs. Banks had fainted. Her son helped to carry her into another room.

No one attempted to prevent him. The young prosecutor returned with him and stood dumb before the court.

"I am ready for sentence, your Honor. I committed the burglary." It was the voice of the prisoner. He was standing with his arms folded and his eyes cast down. Silence fell in the room. The women ceased to sob. There was an uneasy movement in the jury box.

"In view of the new evidence--" began the foreman but the voice of the judge, slow and steady, filled the room.

"It is the sentence of this court that you, Walter Banks, be confined at hard labor in the state penitentiary for the term of four years."

The prisoner bowed and turned a shade paler.

"Do not tell mother that until she is better," he said to his attorney and pa.s.sed out in the custody of the sheriff.

"And at the end of four years, what!" a lady was saying to the young prosecutor as the room slowly emptied.

"The brute!" was hurled after the judge by another, as his form vanished through the door.

"Shows that law is not for the poor alone--"

"Good things for social order and--"

"Well, yes, I'm rather disappointed; but of course a judge can't go behind the returns."

"Evidence all one way if--"

"Heavens, what a scene!"

"--my opinion no woman should ever be admitted to a court room except as a prisoner. It--"

"Feather in the cap of the prosecutor."

"--re-election sure enough now."

"Whole thing in a nutsh.e.l.l--"

"Simple question. _Did_ he commit the burglary? If so--"

The young prosecutor hurried away from the sound of these voices and the congratulations of his political friends. He was mentally sore and perplexed because he had won his case.

That night he called upon the prisoner for the second time.

"I have made up' my mind to resign my office," he said, not looking at the convict, who had risen to receive him.

Walter Banks was by far the calmer of the two, but he did not speak.

"I shall never be able to act for the prosecution again. I thought this case was so clear. My duty seemed so plain--too plain to admit of anything but the most vigorous course of action; but--"

"You did nothing but your duty, Mathews. We are all victims I suppose--one way or another. You are going to be the victim of your sensitive conscience. The result will be a course of vacillation that will ruin your chances of success. I am sorry. You've got all the elements for a leader--only you've got a conscience. That settles it. A bit of heredity like that is as fatal as--as mine." He bit his lips.

"Don't let your part in my case worry you. The game of life has gone against me. That is all. The dice were loaded before I ever got hold of them. I did what I could to out-live--out-fight my awful--inheritance.

I wasn't strong enough. It got the best of me. Nature is a terrible antagonist. Perhaps now that I understand myself better I shall be able to keep a firmer hold. You did your duty, Mathews; good-by. Be-- Can't you be a little kind to mother? She suffers so. Her punishment is double--and her crime was ignorance!"

This time he took the hand that was held out to him.

"Only ignorance," he added. "It seems an awful punishment for that."

"Ignorance--and poverty and love," said the young prosecutor as the door closed behind him, "and Nature did the rest! What a grip is at our throats! And how we help blind Nature in her cruel work by laws and customs and conditions! What a little way we've come from barbarism yet! How slow we travel. But we are moving," he added with a deep sigh.

"Moving a little. There is light ahead. If not for us, then for those who come after."

He heard the bolt slip behind him and shuddered.