How the night passed I know not, but, when the light came, I had but one thought: to seek out Graham and beg his forgiveness. Again I bought a morning paper, and read the finish of the trial. Graham was condemned to death.
After a day's wandering, or maybe more—I knew nothing of time in those blank hours—I found out the prison where he lay awaiting his doom, and craved admittance, saying I was a particular friend—a friend!
They let me see him for a moment, but he did not know me. He even smiled when I asked his forgiveness; even he would not believe me.
"I do not understand it at all," he said, laying his head on his hand wearily. "I cannot think, I cannot even feel these last few days," and then raised his head and gazed at me eagerly. "Do you know anything of my mother?"
I did not know of her, and turned away my face.
"I had a child!" he cried. "Oh, tell me of my little child!"
"Do you not remember?—she is dead," I told him, weeping.
