That would make a terrible gap in his life and hers.
Still, she could wait.
It was better than eight or ten years, as she had feared it might be.
Perhaps now, once this was really over and he was in prison, the Governor would pardon him.
The judge now moved to pick up the papers in connection with Stener's case, satisfied that he had given the financiers no chance to say he had not given due heed to their plea in Cowperwood's behalf and yet certain that the politicians would be pleased that he had so nearly given Cowperwood the maximum while appearing to have heeded the pleas for mercy.
Cowperwood saw through the trick at once, but it did not disturb him.
It struck him as rather weak and contemptible.
A bailiff came forward and started to hurry him away.
"Allow the prisoner to remain for a moment," called the judge.
The name, of George W. Stener had been called by the clerk and Cowperwood did not quite understand why he was being detained, but he soon learned.
It was that he might hear the opinion of the court in connection with his copartner in crime.
The latter's record was taken.
Roger O'Mara, the Irish political lawyer who had been his counsel all through his troubles, stood near him, but had nothing to say beyond asking the judge to consider Stener's previously honorable career.
"George W. Stener," said his honor, while the audience, including Cowperwood, listened attentively.
"The motion for a new trial as well as an arrest of judgment in your case having been overruled, it remains for the court to impose such sentence as the nature of your offense requires.
I do not desire to add to the pain of your position by any extended remarks of my own; but I cannot let the occasion pass without expressing my emphatic condemnation of your offense.
The misapplication of public money has become the great crime of the age. If not promptly and firmly checked, it will ultimately destroy our institutions.
When a republic becomes honeycombed with corruption its vitality is gone.
It must crumble upon the first pressure.
"In my opinion, the public is much to blame for your offense and others of a similar character.
Heretofore, official fraud has been regarded with too much indifference.
What we need is a higher and purer political morality—a state of public opinion which would make the improper use of public money a thing to be execrated.
It was the lack of this which made your offense possible.
Beyond that I see nothing of extenuation in your case."
Judge Payderson paused for emphasis.
He was coming to his finest flight, and he wanted it to sink in.
"The people had confided to you the care of their money," he went on, solemnly.
"It was a high, a sacred trust.
You should have guarded the door of the treasury even as the cherubim protected the Garden of Eden, and should have turned the flaming sword of impeccable honesty against every one who approached it improperly.
Your position as the representative of a great community warranted that.
"In view of all the facts in your case the court can do no less than impose a major penalty.
The seventy-fourth section of the Criminal Procedure Act provides that no convict shall be sentenced by the court of this commonwealth to either of the penitentiaries thereof, for any term which shall expire between the fifteenth of November and the fifteenth day of February of any year, and this provision requires me to abate three months from the maximum of time which I would affix in your case—namely, five years.
The sentence of the court is, therefore, that you pay a fine of five thousand dollars to the commonwealth for the use of the county"—Payderson knew well enough that Stener could never pay that sum—"and that you undergo imprisonment in the State Penitentiary for the Eastern District, by separate and solitary confinement at labor, for the period of four years and nine months, and that you stand committed until this sentence is complied with."
He laid down the briefs and rubbed his chin reflectively while both Cowperwood and Stener were hurried out.
Butler was the first to leave after the sentence—quite satisfied.
Seeing that all was over so far as she was concerned, Aileen stole quickly out; and after her, in a few moments, Cowperwood's father and brothers.
They were to await him outside and go with him to the penitentiary.
The remaining members of the family were at home eagerly awaiting intelligence of the morning's work, and Joseph Cowperwood was at once despatched to tell them.
The day had now become cloudy, lowery, and it looked as if there might be snow.
Eddie Zanders, who had been given all the papers in the case, announced that there was no need to return to the county jail.
In consequence the five of them—Zanders, Steger, Cowperwood, his father, and Edward—got into a street-car which ran to within a few blocks of the prison.
Within half an hour they were at the gates of the Eastern Penitentiary.
Chapter LIII
The Eastern District Penitentiary of Pennsylvania, standing at Fairmount Avenue and Twenty-first Street in Philadelphia, where Cowperwood was now to serve his sentence of four years and three months, was a large, gray-stone structure, solemn and momentous in its mien, not at all unlike the palace of Sforzas at Milan, although not so distinguished.
It stretched its gray length for several blocks along four different streets, and looked as lonely and forbidding as a prison should.
The wall which inclosed its great area extending over ten acres and gave it so much of its solemn dignity was thirty-five feet high and some seven feet thick.
The prison proper, which was not visible from the outside, consisted of seven arms or corridors, ranged octopus-like around a central room or court, and occupying in their sprawling length about two-thirds of the yard inclosed within the walls, so that there was but little space for the charm of lawn or sward.
The corridors, forty-two feet wide from outer wall to outer wall, were one hundred and eighty feet in length, and in four instances two stories high, and extended in their long reach in every direction.
There were no windows in the corridors, only narrow slits of skylights, three and one-half feet long by perhaps eight inches wide, let in the roof; and the ground-floor cells were accompanied in some instances by a small yard ten by sixteen—the same size as the cells proper—which was surrounded by a high brick wall in every instance.
The cells and floors and roofs were made of stone, and the corridors, which were only ten feet wide between the cells, and in the case of the single-story portion only fifteen feet high, were paved with stone.