Sentence, fourteen years’ penal servitude. And, once more, as in a dream, Luke saw Cyril Mallow’s blotched face gazing at him full of malice, and a look of deadly hatred in his eyes, before he was hurried away.
He was then conscious of Mr Swift saying something to him full of praise, and of Serjeant Towle leaning forward to shake hands, as he whispered—
“You beat me, Ross, thoroughly. We’ll be on the same side next time.”
But the dreaminess was once more closing in Luke Ross as with a mist, and in it he saw a pale, agonised face gazing reproachfully in his direction as its owner was being helped out of the court.
“God help me!” muttered Luke. “I must have been mad. She will think it was revenge, when I would sooner have died than given her pain.”
Part 3, Chapter VII.
After the Sentence.
There was nothing farther to detain Luke Ross, but he remained in his seat for some time, studying the next case people said, but only that he might dream on in peace, for in the midst of the business of the next trial he found repose. No one spoke to him, and he seemed by degrees to be able to condense his thoughts upon the past.