From that time on David’s statement dealt with the situation in the cabin; with Jud Clark and the Donaldsons, and with the snow storm, which began again and lasted for days.  He spoke at length of his discovery of Clark’s identity, and of the fact that the boy had lost all memory of what had happened, and even of who he was.  He went into that in detail; the peculiar effect of fear and mental shock on a high-strung nature, especially where the physical condition was lowered by excess and wrong-living; his early attempts, as the boy improved, to pierce the veil, and then his slow-growing conviction that it were an act of mercy not to do so.  The Donaldsons’ faithfulness, the cessation of the search under the conviction that Clark was dead, both were there, and also David’s growing liking for Judson himself.  But David’s own psychology was interesting and clearly put.

“First of all,” he dictated, in his careful old voice, “it must be remembered that I was not certain that the boy had committed the crime.  I believed, and I still believe, that Lucas was shot by Clifton Hines, probably through an open window.  There were no powder marks on the body.  I believed, too, and still believe, that Hines had fled after the crime, either to Hattie Thorwald’s house or to the mountains.  In one case he had escaped and could not be brought to justice, and in the other he was dead, and beyond conviction.

“But there is another element which I urge, not in defense but in explanation.  The boy Judson Clark was a new slate to write on.  He had never had a chance.  He had had too much money, too much liberty, too little responsibility.  His errors had been wiped away by the loss of his memory, and he had, I felt, a chance for a new and useful life.

“I did not come to my decision quickly.  It was a long fight for his life, for he had contracted pneumonia, and he had the drinker’s heart.  But in the long days of his convalescence while Maggie worked in the lean-to, I had time to see what might be done.  If in making an experiment with a man’s soul I usurped the authority of my Lord and Master, I am sorry.  But he knows that I did it for the best.

“I deliberately built up for Judson Clark a new identity.  He was my nephew, my brother Henry’s son.  He had the traditions of an honorable family to carry on, and those traditions were honor, integrity, clean living and work.  I did not stress love, for that I felt must be experienced, not talked about.  But love was to be the foundation on which I built.  The boy had had no love in his life.

“It has worked out.  I may not live to see it at its fullest, but I defy the world to produce today a finer or more honorable gentleman, a more useful member of the community.  And it will last.  The time may come when Judson Clark will again be Judson Clark.  I have expected it for many years.  But he will never again be the Judson Clark of ten years ago.  He may even will to return to the old reckless ways, but as I lie here, perhaps never to see him, I say this:  he cannot go back.  His character and habits of thought are established.