A Knight of the Nineteenth CenturyRoe, Edward Payson
General
A Knight of the Nineteenth Century
Roe, Edward Payson
Fiction
The judge recognized and openly acknowledged the fact that it was not a
case of deliberate wrongdoing, and he ordered the arrest of the superior
young gentleman who had introduced the New York gamblers to their
victim; and yet in the eye of the law it was a clear case of
embezzlement; and, as Mr. Arnot's friend, the magistrate felt little
disposition to prevent things from taking their usual course. The
prisoner must either furnish bail at once, or be committed until he
could do so, or until the case could be properly tried. As Haldane was a
comparative stranger in Hillaton there was no one to whom he felt he
could apply, and he supposed it would require some little time for his
mother to arrange the matter. Upon his signifying that he could not
furnish bail immediately, the judge promptly ordered his committal to
the common jail of the city, which happened to be at some distance from
the building then employed for the preliminary examinations.
It was while on his way to this place of detention that he heard Mrs.
Arnot's voice, and encountered her eyes and those of Laura Romeyn. His
first impulse was to end both his suffering and himself by some
desperate act, but he was powerless even to harm himself.
The limit of endurance, however had been reached. The very worst that he
could imagine had befallen him. Laura Romeyn had looked upon his
unutterable shame and disgrace. From a quivering and almost agonizing
sensibility to his situation he reacted into sullen indifference. He no
longer saw the sun shining in the sky, nor the familiar sights of the
street; he no longer heard nor heeded the jeering rabble that came
tramping after. He became for the time scarcely more than a piece of
mechanism, that barely retained the power of voluntary motion, but had
lost ability to feel and think. When, at last, he entered his narrow
cell, eight feet by eight, the wish half formed itself in his mind that
it was six feet by two, and that he might hide in it forever.
He sat down on the rough wooden couch which formed the only furniture of
the room, and buried his face in his hands, conscious only of a dull,
leaden weight of pain. He made no effort to obtain legal counsel or to
communicate his situation to his mother. Indeed, he dreaded to see her,
and he felt that he could not look his sisters in the face again. The
prison cell seemed a refuge from the terrible scorn of the world, and
his present impulse was to cower behind its thick walls for the rest of
his life.
CHAPTER XIV
MR. ARNOT'S SYSTEM WORKS BADLY
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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