We both helped capture
him, and I defended him. He was
sentenced to hang--the glass was my fee.
We sat down opposite Bee Rock, and
for the first time Grayson told me of
that last scene with her. He spoke
without bitterness, and he told me what
she said, word for word, without a breath
of blame for her. I do not believe that
he judged her at all; she did not know--
he always said; she did not KNOW; and
then, when I opened my lips, Grayson
reached silently for my wrist, and I can
feel again the warning crush of his fingers,
and I say nothing against her now.
I asked Grayson what his answer was.
``I asked her,'' he said, solemnly, ``if
she had ever seen a purple rhododendron.''
I almost laughed, picturing the scene
--the girl bewildered by his absurd question--
Grayson calm, superbly courteous.
It was a mental peculiarity of his--this
irrelevancy--and it was like him to end
a matter of life and death in just that
way.
``I told her I should send her one.
I am waiting for them to come out,'' he
added; and he lay back with his head
against a stone and sighted the telescope
on a dizzy point, about which buzzards
were circling.
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