"I
sentence you to Fourteen Years' Imprisonment, with Hard Labour."
The prisoner bowed, without losing his apparent composure. But his
eyes strayed away again to the far end of the hall, where the two
weeping women, with a sudden sharp cry, fell at once in a faint on
one another's shoulders, and were with difficulty removed from court
by the ushers.
As we left the room, I heard but one comment all round, thus voiced
by a school-boy: "I'd a jolly sight rather it had been old Vandrift.
This Clay chap's too clever by half to waste on a prison!"
But he went there, none the less--in that "cool sequestered vale
of life" to recover equilibrium; though I myself half regretted it.
I will add but one more little parting episode.
When all was over, Charles rushed off to Cannes, to get away from
the impertinent stare of London. Amelia and Isabel and I went with
him. We were driving one afternoon on the hills beyond the town,
among the myrtle and lentisk scrub, when we noticed in front of us
a nice victoria, containing two ladies in very deep mourning. We
followed it, unintentionally, as far as Le Grand Pin--that big pine
tree that looks across the bay towards Antibes. There, the ladies
descended and sat down on a knoll, gazing out disconsolately towards
the sea and the islands.
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