An American Tragedy - Theodore Dreiser [430]
But so shaken was she by Clyde’s so sudden and amazingly changed appearance here that she could scarcely speak upon his entrance, even in recognition of him, so blanched and gray were his cheeks and so shadowy and strained his eyes. His head clipped that way! This uniform! And in this dreadful place of iron gates and locks and long passages with uniformed guards at every turn!
For a moment she winced and trembled, quite faint under the strain, although previous to this she had entered many a jail and larger prison—in Kansas City, Chicago, Denver—and delivered tracts and exhortations and proffered her services in connection with anything she might do. But this—this! Her own son! Her broad, strong bosom began to heave. She looked, and then turned her heavy, broad back to hide her face for the nonce. Her lips and chin quivered. She began to fumble in the small bag she carried for her handkerchief at the same time that she was muttering to herself: “My God—why hast Thou forsaken me?” But even as she did so there came the thought—no, no, he must not see her so. What a way was this to do—and by her tears weaken him. And yet despite her great strength she could not now cease at once but cried on.
And Clyde seeing this, and despite his previous determination to bear up and say some comforting and heartening word to his mother, now began:
“But you mustn’t, Ma. Gee, you mustn’t cry. I know it’s hard on you. But I’ll be all right. Sure I will. It isn’t as bad as I thought.” Yet inwardly saying: “Oh, God how bad!”
And Mrs. Griffiths adding aloud: “My poor boy! My beloved son! But we mustn’t give way. No. No. ‘Behold I will deliver thee out of the snares of the wicked.’ God has not deserted either of us. And He will not—that I know. ‘He leadeth me by the still waters.’ ‘He restoreth my soul.’ We must put our trust in Him. Besides,” she added, briskly and practically, as much to strengthen herself as Clyde, “haven’t I already arranged for an appeal? It is to be made yet this week. They’re going to file a notice. And that means that your case can’t even be considered under a year. But it is just the shock of seeing you so. You see, I wasn’t quite prepared for it.” She straightened her shoulders and now looked up and achieved a brave if strained smile. “The warden here seems very kind, but still, somehow, when I saw you just now—”
She dabbed at her eyes which were damp from this sudden and terrific storm, and to divert herself as well as him she talked of the so very necessary work before her. Messrs. Belknap and Jephson had been so encouraging to her just before she left. She had gone to their office and they had urged her and him to be of good cheer. And now she was going to lecture, and at once, and would soon have means to do with that way. Oh, yes. And Mr. Jephson would be down to see him one of these days soon. He was by no means to feel that the legal end of all this had been reached. Far from it. The recent verdict and sentence was sure to be reversed and a new trial ordered. The recent one was a farce, as he knew.
And as for herself—as soon as she found a room near the prison— she was going to the principal ministers of Auburn and see if she could not secure a church, or two, or three, in which to speak and plead his cause. Mr. Jephson was mailing her some information she could use within a day or two. And after that, other churches in Syracuse, Rochester, Albany, Schenectady—in fact many cities in the east—until she had raised the necessary sum. But she would not neglect him. She would see him at least once a week and would write him a letter every other day, or maybe even daily if she could. She would talk to the warden. So he must not despair. She had much hard work ahead of her, of course, but the Lord would guide her in all that she undertook. She knew that. Had He not already shown his gracious and miraculous mercy?
Clyde must pray for her and for himself. Read Isaiah. Read the psalms—the 23rd and the 51st and 91st daily. Also Habbakuk. “Are there walls against the Hand of the Lord?” And then after more tears, an utterly moving and macerating scene, at last achieving her departure while Clyde, shaken to his soul by so much misery, returned to his cell. His mother. And at her age