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- Теодор Драйзер
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- Стр. 594/598
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And
Mrs.
Griffiths
exclaiming
:
"
My
son
!
My
son
,
I
know
,
I
know
.
I
have
faith
too
.
I
know
that
my
Redeemer
liveth
and
that
He
is
yours
.
Though
we
die
--
yet
shall
we
live
!
"
She
was
looking
heavenward
,
and
seemed
transfixed
.
Yet
as
suddenly
turning
to
Clyde
and
gathering
him
in
her
arms
and
holding
him
long
and
firmly
to
her
,
whispering
:
"
My
son
--
my
baby
--
"
And
her
voice
broke
and
trailed
off
into
breathlessness
--
and
her
strength
seemed
to
be
going
all
to
him
,
until
she
felt
she
must
leave
or
fall
--
And
so
she
turned
quickly
and
unsteadily
to
the
warden
,
who
was
waiting
for
her
to
lead
her
to
Auburn
friends
of
McMillan
's
.
And
then
in
the
dark
of
this
midwinter
morning
--
the
final
moment
--
with
the
guards
coming
,
first
to
slit
his
right
trouser
leg
for
the
metal
plate
and
then
going
to
draw
the
curtains
before
the
cells
:
"
It
is
time
,
I
fear
.
Courage
,
my
son
.
"
It
was
the
Reverend
McMillan
--
now
accompanied
by
the
Reverend
Gibson
,
who
,
seeing
the
prison
guards
approaching
,
was
then
addressing
Clyde
.
And
Clyde
now
getting
up
from
his
cot
,
on
which
,
beside
the
Reverend
McMillan
,
he
had
been
listening
to
the
reading
of
John
,
14
,
15
,
16
:
"
Let
not
your
heart
be
troubled
.
Ye
believe
in
God
--
believe
also
in
me
.
"
And
then
the
final
walk
with
the
Reverend
McMillan
on
his
right
hand
and
the
Reverend
Gibson
on
his
left
--
the
guards
front
and
rear
.
But
with
,
instead
of
the
customary
prayers
,
the
Reverend
McMillan
announcing
:
"
Humble
yourselves
under
the
mighty
hand
of
God
that
He
may
exalt
you
in
due
time
.
Cast
all
your
care
upon
Him
for
He
careth
for
you
.
Be
at
peace
.
Wise
and
righteous
are
His
ways
,
who
hath
called
us
into
His
eternal
glory
by
Christ
Jesus
,
after
that
we
have
suffered
a
little
.
I
am
the
way
,
the
truth
and
the
life
--
no
man
cometh
unto
the
Father
but
by
me
.
"
But
various
voices
--
as
Clyde
entered
the
first
door
to
cross
to
the
chair
room
,
calling
:
"
Good-by
,
Clyde
.
"
And
Clyde
,
with
enough
earthly
thought
and
strength
to
reply
:
"
Good-by
,
all
.
"
But
his
voice
sounding
so
strange
and
weak
,
even
to
himself
,
so
far
distant
as
though
it
emanated
from
another
being
walking
alongside
of
him
,
and
not
from
himself
.
And
his
feet
were
walking
,
but
automatically
,
it
seemed
.
And
he
was
conscious
of
that
familiar
shuffle
--
shuffle
--
as
they
pushed
him
on
and
on
toward
that
door
.
Now
it
was
here
;
now
it
was
being
opened
.
There
it
was
--
at
last
--
the
chair
he
had
so
often
seen
in
his
dreams
--
that
he
so
dreaded
--
to
which
he
was
now
compelled
to
go
.
He
was
being
pushed
toward
that
--
into
that
--
on
--
on
--
through
the
door
which
was
now
open
--
to
receive
him
--
but
which
was
as
quickly
closed
again
on
all
the
earthly
life
he
had
ever
known
.
It
was
the
Reverend
McMillan
,
who
,
gray
and
weary
--
a
quarter
of
an
hour
later
,
walked
desolately
--
and
even
a
little
uncertainly
--
as
one
who
is
physically
very
weak
--
through
the
cold
doors
of
the
prison
.
It
was
so
faint
--
so
weak
--
so
gray
as
yet
--
this
late
winter
day
--
and
so
like
himself
now
.
Dead
!
He
,
Clyde
,
had
walked
so
nervously
and
yet
somehow
trustingly
beside
him
but
a
few
minutes
before
--
and
now
he
was
dead
.
The
law
!
Prisons
such
as
this
.
Strong
,
evil
men
who
scoffed
betimes
where
Clyde
had
prayed
.
That
confession
!
Had
he
decided
truly
--
with
the
wisdom
of
God
,
as
God
gave
him
to
see
wisdom
?
Had
he
?
Clyde
's
eyes
!
He
,
himself
--
the
Reverend
McMillan
had
all
but
fainted
beside
him
as
that
cap
was
adjusted
to
his
head
--
that
current
turned
on
--
and
he
had
had
to
be
assisted
,
sick
and
trembling
,
from
the
room
--
he
upon
whom
Clyde
had
relied
.
And
he
had
asked
God
for
strength
--
was
asking
it
.
He
walked
along
the
silent
street
--
only
to
be
compelled
to
pause
and
lean
against
a
tree
--
leafless
in
the
winter
--
so
bare
and
bleak
.
Clyde
's
eyes
!
That
look
as
he
sank
limply
into
that
terrible
chair
,
his
eyes
fixed
nervously
and
,
as
he
thought
,
appealingly
and
dazedly
upon
him
and
the
group
surrounding
him
.
Had
he
done
right
?
Had
his
decision
before
Governor
Waltham
been
truly
sound
,
fair
or
merciful
?
Should
he
have
said
to
him
--
that
perhaps
--
perhaps
--
there
had
been
those
other
influences
playing
upon
him
?
...
Was
he
never
to
have
mental
peace
again
,
perhaps
?
