Американская трагедия

           Thereitwas—atlast—thechairhehadsooftenseeninhisdreams—thathesodreaded—towhichhewasnowcompelledtogo.Hewasbeingpushedtowardthat—intothat—on—on—throughthedoorwhichwasnowopen—toreceivehim—butwhichwasasquicklyclosedagainonalltheearthlylifehehadeverknown.

           ItwastheReverendMcMillan,who,grayandweary—aquarterofanhourlater,walkeddesolately—andevenalittleuncertainly—asonewhoisphysicallyveryweak—throughthecolddoorsoftheprison.Itwassofaint—soweak—sograyasyet—thislatewinterday—andsolikehimselfnow.Dead!He,Clyde,hadwalkedsonervouslyandyetsomehowtrustinglybesidehimbutafewminutesbefore—andnowhewasdead.Thelaw!Prisonssuchasthis.Strong,evilmenwhoscoffedbetimeswhereClydehadprayed.Thatconfession!Hadhedecidedtruly—withthewisdomofGod,asGodgavehimtoseewisdom?Hadhe?Clyde’seyes!He,himself—theReverendMcMillanhadallbutfaintedbesidehimasthatcapwasadjustedtohishead—thatcurrentturnedon—andhehadhadtobeassisted,sickandtrembling,fromtheroom—heuponwhomClydehadrelied.AndhehadaskedGodforstrength—wasaskingit.

           Hewalkedalongthesilentstreet—onlytobecompelledtopauseandleanagainstatree—leaflessinthewinter—sobareandbleak.