WHAT THE CHRISTMAS STAR SEES
Number 101—name already forgotten—stands before the bar and tells frankly of his guilt.
"How could you do it?" asked the judge, looking from his strong, well-built figure to the poor woman in her ragged dress.
The strong man bends his head before the stern gaze of the man of law. He wishes to fall on his knees and pray forgiveness; but to produce a scene in the court-room where inquisitive eyes are watching from every corner, trying to catch every bit of sensational news—that would never do. So the guilty man hides his feelings, and no sensation occurs, and as there are no extenuating circumstances, he must pay his debt in full.
Number 101 lifts his head and waves his hand at the dark thoughts, repeating: "I have paid it all."
"You have not," say the thoughts.
"I have," firmly asserts the prisoner.
"You could not," repeat the thoughts. "Do you not know that you could pay none of your debts, even by sacrificing your whole life?"
"When I leave this room a free man, I am exonerated, and no one will dare say a word about the debt," continues the lonely man.
But the thoughts are persistent, and resume: "People will scowl at you, and close their doors on you; nay, even be afraid to touch you. No man or woman can ever blot out the brand for theft which you carry."
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