He had spoken to the clergyman without noticing that a stranger stood near.
“I think you’re wrong,” said Claymore, still looking straight at Folsom.
“I wish I could think so,” responded Folsom, sadly; “but I spoke to Judson very harshly. I thought I had reason to be angry, and I guess I had, but I should not have spoken in that way. I came here just now to beg his pardon. He said at the time he should die, and I told him he’d better. Great Heaven! to think that I should have hounded him to his death!”
Mr. Folsom was terribly distressed.
The crowd that had gathered at the clerk’s desk listened breathlessly.
“You may be entirely right,” said Claymore, quietly, “but I think not. I heard the conversation you refer to.”
“You heard it?”
“Yes; I was with Mr. Judson at the time.”
“Ah! I didn’t see you. Then you heard his words?”