Before the palace where the judges still slept, the wretched man paced to and fro, bearing with him the thrice accursed silver which burned his bosom—burned his soul. As yet there were few signs of life in the silent streets. Only the humblest laborers had come forth to begin with the earliest light their day of toil. Judas gazed on them as they went calmly and cheerfully about their accustomed tasks, oh, how wistfully! Could he only once more know that lightness of heart which innocence alone confers! Could he but look on the glad light of the sun, and see there no accusing form which now incessantly uprose before his imagination! Could he but listen to the voice of Nature, without feeling that for him she sung only a far-resounding chorus of condemnation! Could he only go forth to his peaceful labor, and forget that fearful looking for of judgment which now alone awaited him!
As by degrees the streets filled with men, and women, and little children, how suspiciously and consciously his eyes glanced at all who passed by him, the greetings of the companions of former days were unreturned, or misunderstood, for Judas wondered how that any should speak to him! And when the Pharisee went by, folding his robes closely about him, lest they might come in contact with the garments of the poor publican, when with a supercilious look which said so plainly, “Stand back, for I am holier than thou!” he felt the justice of the unspoken rebuke though it did come from sinful humanity. And when troops of gay and innocent children passed on, their voices of mirth and gladness filling the air which was ere long to echo with the dying Saviour’s cry and the mocking shouts of unbelieving Jews, he crept more closely to the wall, fearing lest his sin penetrated garments might by a touch convey contamination!
At last the palace-gates were opened, and breathlessly Judas rushed within, and entered unbidden, unannounced and alone the presence chamber of Caiaphas, where he had stood so recently to bargain for the blood of Jesus Christ!
Already the chief priest, and the scribes and rulers had gathered together to confer respecting the fate of their prisoner. How astonished must they have looked upon the haggard, guilt-stricken man who came so suddenly before them! No wonder if they started in fear as they saw the despairing look of his blood-shot eyes, for the glare of a maniac was in them. With outspread hands he held the dear-bought money toward them, while the wailing of a spirit doomed forever to despair broke forth in the words, “I have sinned! I have betrayed the innocent blood!”
In fearful mockery and derision came back the answer, “What is that to us! See thou to that!”
Vainly did he look for sympathy there! Hardened, selfish, sinful, they could not even feel for him who had been all too late aroused by the tortures of remorse to a sense of his most awful guilt. It was a vain thing to appeal to them to receive again the silver and let the precious prisoner go free!
Oh, what marvel that the wretched man should have shrunk from an existence which he was well assured would never be blessed by one hour free from the maddening tortures of his conscience? What wonder that he hastened from the presence of the fiendish Caiaphas to die before the sentence of condemnation had been passed on the Master whom his treachery had given to the cross? What wonder, reader, that the wretched man perished by his own hands? and can the wildest hoper believe that his was not an eternal death?
THE BRIDE OF BROEK-IN-WATERLAND.
A DUTCH ROMANCE.