Would he fall finally into the hands of the law?
This was the question that Rose asked many times of herself. It would be justice, and yet it would grind her heart to know of his dying on the scaffold.
Was he guilty?
Another question.
Could she doubt it, remembering the scene in the garden at the house of her lover?
One evening while Rose, unattended, was hastening along the street toward the city prison, she suddenly became aware that a man was following her. There was something in his walk and general appearance that seemed familiar, but she could not see his face, since his hat was down low, shading it completely.
She had reached the entrance to the sheriff's office, and placed her hand on the knob, when the man sprang quickly to her side and seized her arm. She uttered a startled cry and pushed open the door.
"One moment, Rose!" cried the man, hoarsely. He snatched the hat from his head and bent his face close hers.
The girl uttered a great cry.
"Great Heaven, you here, August Bordine!"