"And who could have ordered you to drain my mere?"
"Mercy Vint."
Sir George uttered this in a very curious way, half ashamed half resolute, and retired before Mrs. Gaunt could vent in speech the surprise and indignation that fired her eye.
Houseman implored her not to heed Sir George and his vagaries, but to bend her whole mind on those approved modes of defense with which he had supplied her.
Being now alone with her, he no longer concealed his great anxiety.
"We have lost an invaluable witness in that woman," said he. "I was mad to think she would come."
Mrs. Gaunt shivered with repugnance. "I would not have her come for all the world," said she. "For Heaven's sake never mention her name to me. I want help from none but friends. Send Mrs. Houseman to me in the morning; and do not distress yourself so. I shall defend myself far better than you think. I have not studied a hundred trials for nought."
Thus the prisoner cheered up her attorney, and soon after insisted on his going home to bed, for she saw he was worn out by his exertions.
And now she was alone.
All was silent.
A few short hours, and she was to be tried for her life; tried, not by the All-wise Judge, but by fallible men, and under a system most unfavorable to the accused.
Worse than all this, she was a Papist: and, as ill-luck would have it, since her imprisonment an alarm had been raised that the Pretender meditated another invasion. This report had set juries very much against all the Romanists in the country, and had already perverted justice in one or two cases, especially in the North.
Mrs. Gaunt knew all this, and trembled at the peril to come.
She spent the early part of the night in studying her defense. Then she laid it quite aside and prayed long and fervently.
Towards morning she fell asleep from exhaustion.
When she awoke, Mrs. Houseman was sitting by her bedside, looking at her, and crying.
They were soon clasped in each other's arms, condoling.
But presently Houseman came, and took his wife away rather angrily.
Mrs. Gaunt was prevailed on to eat a little toast and drink a glass of wine, and then she sat waiting her dreadful summons.
She waited, and waited, until she became impatient to face her danger.
But there were two petty larcenies on before her. She had to wait.
At last, about noon, came a message to say that the grand jury had found a true bill against her.
"Then may God forgive them!" said she.
Soon afterwards she was informed her time drew very near.
She made her toilet carefully, and passed with her attendant into a small room under the court.
Here she had to endure another chilling wait, and in a sombre room.
Presently she heard a voice above her cry out, "The KingversusCatherine Gaunt."
Then she was beckoned to.
She mounted some steps, badly lighted, and found herself in the glare of day, and greedy eyes, in the felon's dock.
In a matter entirely strange, we seldom know beforehand what we can do, and how we shall carry ourselves. Mrs. Gaunt no sooner set her foot in that dock, and saw tiny awful front of Justice face to face, than her tremors abated, and all her powers awoke, and she thrilled with love of life, and bristled with all those fine arts of defense that nature lends to superior women.
She entered on that defense before she spoke a word; for she attacked the prejudices of the court by deportment.
She curtsied reverently to the Judge, and contrived to make her reverence seem a wiling homage, unmixed with fear.
She cast her eyes round, and saw the court thronged with ladies and gentlemen she knew. In a moment she read in their faces that only two or three were on her side. She bowed to those only; and they returned her courtesy. This gave an impression (a false one) that the gentry sympathized with her.
After a little murmur of functionaries, the Clerk of Arraigns turned to the prisoner, and said, in a loud voice, "Catherine Gaunt, hold up thy hand."
She held up her hand, and he recited the indictment, which charged that, not having the fear of God before her eyes, but being moved by the instigation of the Devil, she had on the fifteen of October, in the tenth year of the reign of his present Majesty, aided and abetted one Thomas Leicester in an assault upon one Griffith Gaunt, Esq., and him, the said Griffith Gaunt, did with force and arms assassinate and do to death, against the peace of our said Lord the King, his crown and dignity.
After reading the indictment, the Clerk of Arraigns turned to the prisoner, "How sayest thou, Catherine Gaunt, art thou guilty of the felony and murder whereof thou standest indicted—or not guilty?"
"I am not guilty."
"Culprit, how wilt thou be tried?"
"Culprit I am none, but only accused: I will be tried by God and my country."
"God send thee a good deliverance."
Mr. Whitworth, the junior counsel for the Crown, then rose to open the case; but the prisoner, with a pale face, but most courteous demeanor, begged his leave to make a previous motion to the court. Mr. Whitworth bowed, and sat down. "My Lord," said she, "I have first a favor to ask: and that favor, methinks, you will grant, since it is but justice, impartial justice. My accuser, I hear, has too counsel; both learned and able. I am but a woman, and no match for their skill; therefore, I beg your Lordship to allow me counsel on my defense, to matter of fact as well as of law. I know this is not usual; but it is just; and I am informed it has sometimes been granted in trials of life and death, and that your Lordship hath thepower, if you have thewill, to do me so much justice."
The Judge looked towards Mr. Sergeant Wiltshire, who was the leader on the other side: he rose instantly and replied to this purpose: "The prisoner is misinformed. The truth is, that from time immemorial, and down to the other day, a person indicted for a capital offense was never allowed counsel at all, except to matters of law, and these must be started by himself. By recent practice, the rule hath been so far relaxed, that counsel have sometimes been permitted to examine, and cross-examine, witnesses for a prisoner; but never to make observations on the evidence, nor to draw inferences from it to the point in issue."
Mrs. Gaunt.So, then, if I be sued for a small sum of money, I may have skilled orators to defend me against their like. But, if I be sued for my life and honor, I may not oppose skill to skill; but must stand here a child against you that are masters. 'Tis a monstrous iniquity, and you yourself, sir, will not deny it.
Sergeant Wiltshire.Madam, permit me: whether it be a hardship to deny full counsel to prisoners in criminal cases, I shall not pretend to say; but if it be, 'tis a hardship of the law's making, and not of mine, nor of my lord's: and none have suffered by it (at least in our day) but those who had broken the law.
The Sergeant then stopped a minute, and whispered with his junior. After which he turned to the Judge. "My Lord, we, that are of counsel for the Crown, desire to do nothing that is hard where a person's life is at stake. We yield to the prisoner any indulgence for which your Lordship can find a precedent in your reading; but no more: and so we leave the matter to you."
The Clerk of Arraigns.Crier, proclaim silence.
The Crier.Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! His Majesty's Justices do straitly charge all manner of persons to keep silence on pain of imprisonment.
The Judge.Prisoner, what my brother Wiltshire says, the law is clear in: there is no precedent for what you ask, and the contrary practice stares us in the face for centuries. What seems to you a partial practice, and, to be frank, some learned persons are of your mind, must be set against this, that in capital cases the burden of proof lies on the Crown and not on the accused. Also it is my duty to give you all the assistance I can, and that I shall do. Thus then it is: you can be allowed counsel to examine your own witnesses, and cross-examine the witnesses for the Crown, and speak to points of law, to be started by yourself,—but no further.
He then asked her what gentleman there present he should assign to her for counsel.
Her reply to this inquiry took the whole court by surprise, and made her solicitor, Houseman, very miserable. "None, my Lord," said she. "Half justice is injustice; and I will lend it no color. I will not set able men to fight for me with their hands tied, against men as able whose hands be free. Counsel, on terms so partial, I will have none. My counsel shall be three, and no more. Yourself, my Lord,—my Innocence,—and the Lord God Omniscient."
These words, grandly uttered, caused a dead silence in the court, but only for a few moments. It was broken by the loud mechanical voice of the crier, who proclaimed silence, and then called the names of the jury that were to try this cause.
Mrs. Gaunt listened keenly to the names; familiar and bourgeois names, that now seemed regal, for they who owned them held her life in their hands.
Each juryman was sworn in the grand old form, now slightly curtailed.
"Joseph King, look upon the prisoner.—You shall well and truly try, and true deliverance make, between our Sovereign Lord the King and the prisoner at the bar, whom you shall have in charge, and a true verdict give, according to the evidence. So help you God."
Mr. Whitworth, for the Crown, then opened the case, but did little more than translate the indictment into more rational language.
He sat down, and Sergeant Wiltshire addressed the court somewhat after this fashion:—
"May it please your Lordship, and you, gentlemen of the jury, this is a case of great expectation and importance. The prisoner at the bar, a gentlewoman by birth and education, and, as you must have already perceived, by breeding also, stands indicted for no less a crime than murder.
"I need not paint to you the heinousness of this crime: you have but to consult your own breasts. Who ever saw the ghastly corpse of the victim weltering in its blood, and did not feel his own blood run cold through his veins? Has the murderer fled? with what eagerness do we pursue! with what zeal apprehend! with what joy do we bring him to justice! Even the dreadful sentence of death does not shock us, when pronounced upon him; we hear it with solemn satisfaction; and acknowledge the justice of the divine sentence, 'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.'
"But if this be the case in every common murder, what shall be thought of her who has murdered her husband? the man in whose arms she has lain and whom she has sworn at God's altar to love and cherish. Such a murderer is a robber as well as an assassin; for she robs her own children of their father, that tender parent, who can never be replaced in this world.
"Gentlemen, it will, I fear, be proved that the prisoner at the bar hath been guilty of murder in this high degree: and, though I will endeavor rather to extenuate than to aggravate, yet I trust (sic) I have such a history to open as will shock the ears of all who hear me.
"Mr. Griffith Gaunt, the unfortunate deceased, was a man of descent and worship. As to his character, it was inoffensive; he was known as a worthy kindly gentleman; deeply attached to her who now stands accused of his murder. They lived happily together for some years; but, unfortunately, there was a thorn in the rose of their wedded life; he was of the Church of England; she was, and is, a Roman Catholic. This led to disputes: and no wonder; since the same unhappy difference hath more than once embroiled a nation, let alone a single family.
"Well, gentlemen, about a year ago there was a more violent quarrel than usual between the deceased and the prisoner at the bar: and the deceased left his home for several months.
"He returned upon a certain day in this year, and a reconciliation, real or apparent, took place. He left home again soon afterwards, but only for a short period. On the 15th of last October he suddenly returned for good, as he intended: and here begins the tragedy, to which what I have hitherto related was but the prologue.
"Scarce an hour before he came, one Thomas Leicester entered the house. Now this Thomas Leicester was a creature of the prisoner's. He had been her gamekeeper; and was now a pedlar. It was the prisoner who set him up as a pedlar, and purchased the wares to start him in his trade.
"Gentlemen, this pedlar, as I shall prove, was concealed in the house when the deceased arrived. One Caroline Ryder, who is the prisoner's gentlewoman, was the person who first informed her of Leicester's arrival, and it seems she was much moved; Mrs. Ryder will tell you she fell into hysterics. But, soon after, her husband's arrival was announced, and then the passion was of a very different kind. So violent was her rage against this unhappy man that, for once, she forgot all prudence, and threatened his life before a witness. Yes, gentlemen, we shall prove that this gentlewoman, who in appearance and manners might grace a court, was so transported out of her usual self that she held up a knife—a knife, gentlemen, and vowed to put it into her husband's heart. And this was no mere temporary ebullition of wrath; we shall see presently that, long after she had time to cool, she repeated this menace to the unfortunate man's face. The first threat, however was uttered in her own bedroom, before her confidential servant, Caroline Ryder aforesaid. But now the scene shifts. She has, to all appearance, recovered herself, and sits smiling at the head of her table; for, you must know, she entertained company that night, persons of the highest standing in the county.
"Presently her husband, all unconscious of the terrible sentiments she entertained towards him, and the fearful purpose she had announced, enters the room, makes obeisance to his guests, and goes to take his wife's hand.
"What does she? She draws back with so strange a look and such forbidding words, that the company were disconcerted. Consternation fell on all present; and, ere long, they made their excuses, and left the house. Thus the prisoner was left alone with her husband. But, meantime, curiosity had been excited by her strange conduct, and some of the servants, with foreboding hearts, listened at the door of the dining-room. What did they hear, gentlemen? A furious quarrel, in which, however, the deceased was comparatively passive, and the prisoner again threatened his life, with vehemence. Her passion, it is clear, had not cooled.
"Now it may fairly be alleged, on behalf of the prisoner, that, the witnesses for the Crown were on one side of the door, the prisoner and the deceased on the other; and that such evidence should be received with caution. I grant this—where it is not sustained by other circumstances, or by direct proofs. Let us then give the prisoner the benefit of this doubt, and let us inquire how the deceased himself understood her; he who not only heard the words, and the accents, but saw the looks, whatever they were, that accompanied them.
"Gentlemen, he was a man of known courage and resolution; yet he was found after this terrible interview, much cowed and dejected. He spoke to Mrs. Ryder of his death as an event not far distant, and so went to his bedroom in a melancholy and foreboding state: and where was that bedroom? He was thrust by his wife's orders into a small chamber, and not allowed to enter hers: he, the master of the house, her husband, and her lord.
"But his interpretation of the prisoner's words did not end there. He left us a further comment by his actions next ensuing. He dared not (I beg pardon, this is my inference; receive it as such), hedidnot, remain in that house a single night. He bolted his chamber-door inside; and in the very dead of night, notwithstanding the fatigues of the day's journey (for he had ridden some distance), he let himself out by the window, and reached the ground safely, though it was a height of fourteen feet; a leap, gentlemen, that few of us would venture to take. But what will not men risk when destruction is at their heels? He did not wait even to saddle his horse; but fled on foot. Unhappy man, he fled from danger, and met his death.
"From the hour when he went up to bed none of the inmates of the house ever saw Griffith Gaunt alive; but one Thomas Hayes, a laborer, saw him walking in a certain direction at one o'clock that morning; and behind him, gentlemen, there walked another man.
"Who was that other man?
"When I have told you (and this is an essential feature of the case) how the prisoner was employed during the time that her husband lay quaking in his little room, waiting an opportunity to escape,—when I tell you this, I fear you will divine who it was that followed the deceased, and for what purpose.
"Gentlemen, when the prisoner had threatened her husband in person, as I have described, she retired to her own room, but not to sleep. She ordered her maid, Mrs. Ryder, to bring Thomas Leicester to her chamber. Yes, gentlemen, she received this pedlar at midnight in her bed-chamber.
"Now, an act so strange as this admits, I think, of but two interpretations. Either she had a guilty amour with this fellow, or she had some extraordinary need of his services. Her whole character, by consent of the witnesses, renders it very improbable that she would descend to a low amour. Moreover she acted too publicly in the matter. The man, as we know, was her tool, her creature: she had bought his wares for him, and set him up as a pedlar. She openly summoned him to her presence, and kept him there about half-an-hour.
"He went from her, and very soon after is seen, by Thomas Hayes, following Griffith Gaunt—at one o'clock in the morning—that Griffith Gaunt, who, after that hour, was never seen alive.
"Gentlemen, up to this point the evidence is clear, connected, and cogent; but it rarely happens in cases of murder that any human eye sees the very blow struck. The penalty is too severe for such an act to be done in the presence of an eye-witness: and not one murderer in ton could be convicted without the help of circumstantial evidence.
"The next link, however, is taken up by an ear-witness, and, in some cases, the ear is even better than the eye; for instance, as to the discharge of firearms: for, by the eye alone, we could not positively tell whether a pistol had gone off or had but flashed in the pan. Well, then, gentlemen, a few minutes after Mr. Gaunt was last seen alive, which was by Thomas Hayes, Mrs. Ryder, who had retired to her bedroom, heard the said Gaunt distinctly cry for help: she also heard a pistol-shot discharged. This took place by the side of a lake or large pond near the house, called 'the mere.' Mrs. Ryder alarmed the house, and she and the other servants proceeded to her master's room: they found it bolted from the inside. They broke it open. Mr. Gaunt had escaped by the window, as I have already told you.
"Presently in comes the prisoner from out of doors. This is at one o'clock in the morning. How she appears to have seen at once that she must explain her being abroad at that time, so she told Mrs. Ryder that she had been out—praying."
(Here some people laughed harshly; but were threatened severely, and silenced).
"Is that credible? Do people go out of doors at one o'clock in the morning, to pray? Nay; but I fear it was to do an act, that years of prayer and penitence cannot efface.
"From that moment Mr. Gaunt was seen no more among living men. And what made his disappearance the more mysterious was that he had actually at this time just inherited largely from his namesake Mr. Gaunt of Coggleswade; and his own interest, and that of the other legatees, required his immediate presence. Mr. Atkins, the testator's solicitor, advertised for this unfortunate gentleman; but he did not appear to claim his fortune. Then plain men began to put this and that together, and cried out 'foul play!'
"Justice was set in motion at last: but embarrassed by the circumstance that the body of the deceased could not be found.
"At last, Mr. Atkins, the solicitor, being unable to get the estate I have mentioned administered, for want of proof of Griffith Gaunt's decease, entered heartily into this affair, on mere civil grounds. He asked the prisoner, before several witnesses, if she would permit him to drag that piece of water by the side of which Mr. Gaunt was heard to cry for help, and, after that, seen no more.
"The prisoner did not reply; but Mr. Houseman, her solicitor, a very worthy man, who has I believe, or had, up to that moment, a sincere conviction of her innocence, answered for her, and told Mr. Atkins he was welcome to drag or drain it. Then the prisoner said nothing. She fainted away.
"After this, you may imagine with what expectation the water was dragged. Gentlemen, after hours of fruitless labour, a body was found.
"But here an unforeseen circumstance befriended the prisoner. It seems that piece of water swarms with enormous pike and other ravenous fish. These had so horribly mutilated the deceased, that neither form nor feature remained to swear by: and, as the law wisely and humanely demands that in these eases a body shall be identified beyond doubt, justice bade fair to be baffled again. But lo! as often happens in case of murder, Providence interposed and pointed with unerring finger to a slight but infallible mark. The deceased gentleman was known to have a large mole over his left temple. It had been noticed by his servants, and his neighbors. Well, gentlemen, the greedy fish had spared this mole; spared it perhaps by His command who bade the whale swallow Jonah, yet not destroy him. There it was, clear and infallible. It was examined by several witnesses; it was recognized; it completed that chain of evidence, some of it direct, some of it circumstantial, which I have laid before you very briefly, and every part of which I shall now support by credible witnesses."
He called thirteen witnesses, including Mr. Atkins, Thomas Hayes, Jane Bannister, Caroline Ryder, and others, and their evidence in chief bore out every positive statement the counsel had made.
In cross-examining these witnesses Mrs. Gaunt took a line that agreeably surprised the court. It was not for nothing she had studied a hundred trials with a woman's observation and patient docility. She had found out how badly people plead their own causes, and had noticed the reasons; one of which is that they say too much, and stray from the point. The line she took, with one exception, was keen brevity.
She cross-examined Thomas Hayes as follows:
"You say the pedlar was a hundred yards behind my husband. Which of the two men was walking fastest?"
Thomas Hayes considered a moment. "Well, I think the Squire was walking rather the smartest of the two."
"Did the pedlar seem likely to overtake him?"
"Nay. Ye see, Dame, Squire he walked straight on; but the pedlar he took both sides of the road at oust, as the saying is."
The Prisoner.Forgive me, Thomas, but I don't know what you mean.
Hayes(compassionately). How should ye? You are never the worse for liquor, the likes of you.
The Prisoner(very keenly). Oh, he was in liquor, was he?
Hayes.Come, Dame, you do brew good ale at Hernshaw Castle. Ye needn't go to deny that; for, Lord knows, 'tis no sin; and a poor fellow may be jolly; yet not, to say, drunk.
The Judge(sternly). Witness, attend, and answer directly.
The Prisoner.Nay, my lord, 'tis a plain country body, and means no ill. Good Thomas, be so much my friend as to answer plainly. Was the man drunk or sober?
Hayes.All I know is he went from one side of the road to t'other.
The Prisoner.Thomas Hayes, as you hope to be saved eternally, was the pedlar drunk or sober?
Hayes.Well, if I must tell on my neighbor or else be damned, then that there pedlar was as drunk as a lord.
Here, notwithstanding the nature of the trial, the laughter was irrepressible, and Mrs. Gaunt sat quietly down (for she was allowed a seat), and said no more.
To the surgeon, who had examined the body officially, she put this question, "Did you find any signs of violence?"
The Surgeon.None whatever; but, then, there was nothing to go by, except the head and the bones.
The Prisoner.Have you experience in this kind? I mean, have you inspected murdered bodies?
The Surgeon.Yes.
The Prisoner.How many?
The Surgeon.Two before this.
The Prisoner.Oh! pray, pray, do not say "before this:" I have great hopes no murder at all hath been committed here. Let us keep to plain cases. Please you describe the injuries in those two undoubted cases.
The Surgeon.In Wellyn's the skull was fractured in two places. In Sherrett's the right arm was broken, and there were some contusions on the head; but the cause of death was a stab that penetrated the lungs.
The Prisoner.Suppose Wellyn's murderers had thrown his body into the water, and the fishes had so mutilated it as they have this one, could you by your art have detected the signs of violence?
The Surgeon.Certainly. The man's skull was fractured. Wellyn's I mean.
The Prisoner.I put the same question with regard to Sherrett's.
The Surgeon.I cannot answer it: here the lungs were devoured by the fishes: no signs of lesion can be detected in an organ that has ceased to exist.
The Prisoner.This is too partial. Why select one injury out of several? What I ask is this: could you have detected violence in Sherrett's case, although the fishes had eaten the flesh of his body.
The Surgeon.I answer that the minor injuries of Sherrett would have been equally perceptible; to wit, the bruises on the head, and the broken arm; but not the perforation of the lungs; and that it was killed the man.
Prisoner.Then, so far as you know, and can swear, about murder, more blows have always been struck than one, and some of the blows struck in Sherrett's case, and Wellyn's, would have left traces that fishes' teeth could not efface?
The Surgeon.That is so, if I am to be peevishly confined to my small and narrow experience of murdered bodies. But my general knowledge of the many ways in which life may be taken by violence—
The Judge stopped him, and said that, in a case of Blood, that could hardly be admitted as evidence against his actual experience.
The prisoner put a drawing of the castle, the mere, and the bridge, into the witnesses' hands, and elicited that it was correct, and also the distances marked on it. They had, in fact, been measured exactly for her.
The hobnailed shoes were produced, and she made some use of them, particularly in cross-examining Jane Bannister.
Prisoner.Look at those shoes. Saw you ever the like on Mr. Gaunt's feet?
Jane.That I never did, Dame.
Prisoner.What, not when he came into the kitchen on the 15th October?
Jane.Nay, he was booted. By the same token I saw the boy a cleaning of them for supper.
Prisoner.Those boots, when you broke into his room, did you find them?
Jane.Nay, when the man went, his boots went; as reason was. We found nought of his but a soiled glove.
Prisoner.Had the pedlar boots on?
Jane.Alas! who ever see'd a booted pedlar?
Prisoner.Had he these very shoes on. Look at them.
Jane.I couldn't say for that. He had shoon, for they did properly clatter on my bricks.
The Judge.Clatter on her bricks! What does she mean?
Prisoner.I think she means on the floor of her kitchen. 'Tis a brick floor, if I remember right.
The Judge.Good woman, say, is that what you mean?
Jane.Ay, an't please you, my lord.
Prisoner.Had the pedlar a mole on his forehead?
Jane.Not that I know on. I never took so much notice of the man. But la, Dame, now I look at you, I don't believe you was ever the one to murder our master.
Wiltshire.We don't want your opinion. Confine yourself to facts.
Prisoner.You heard me rating my husband on that night; what was it I said about the constables—do do you remember?
Jane.La, Dame, I wouldn't ask that if I was in your place.
Prisoner.I am much obliged to you for your advice; but answer me—truly.
Jane.Well, if you will have it, I think you said they should be here in the morning. But, indeed, good gentlemen, her bark was always worse than her bite, poor soul.
The Judge.Here. That meant at Hernshaw Castle, I presume.
Jane.Ay, my lord, an' if it please your lordship's honor's worship.
Mrs. Gaunt, husbanding the patience of the court, put no questions at all to several witnesses; but she cross-examined Mrs. Ryder very closely. This was necessary; for Ryder was a fatal witness. Her memory had stored every rash and hasty word the poor lady had uttered, and, influenced either by animosity or prejudice, she put the worst color on every suspicious circumstance. She gave her damnatory evidence neatly, and clearly, and with a seeming candor and regret, that disarmed suspicion.
When her examination in chief concluded, there was but one opinion amongst the bar, and the auditors in general, viz., that the maid had hung the mistress.
Mrs. Gaunt herself felt she had a terrible antagonist to deal with, and, when she rose to cross-examine her, she looked paler than she had done all through the trial.
She rose, but seemed to ask herself how to begin: and her pallor and her hesitation, while they excited some little sympathy, confirmed the unfavorable impression. She fixed her eyes upon the witnesses, as if to discover where she was most vulnerable. Mrs. Ryder returned her gaze calmly. The court was hushed; for it was evident a duel was coming between two women of no common ability.
The opening rather disappointed expectation. Mrs. Gaunt seemed, by her manner, desirous to propitiate the witness.
Prisoner(very civilly). You say you brought Thomas Leicester to my bedroom on that terrible night?
Ryder(civilly). Yes, madam.
Prisoner.And you say he stayed there half-an-hour?
Ryder.Yes, madam; he did.
Prisoner.May I inquire how you know he stayed just half-an-hour?
Ryder.My watch told me that, madam. I brought him to you at a quarter past eleven: and you did not ring for me till a quarter to twelve.
Prisoner.And, when I did ring for you, what then?
Ryder.I came and took the man away, by your orders.
Prisoner.At a quarter to twelve?
Ryder.At a quarter to twelve.
Prisoner.This Leicester was a lover of yours?
Ryder.Not he.
Prisoner.Oh, fie! Why he offered you marriage; it went so far as that.
Ryder.Oh, that was before you set him up pedlar.
Prisoner.'Twas so, but he was single for your sake, and he renewed his offer that very night. Come, do not forswear yourself about a trifle.
Ryder.Trifle, indeed! Why, if he did, what has that to do with the murder? You'll do yourself no good, madam, by going about so.
Wiltshire.Really, madam, this is beside the mark.
Prisoner.If so, it can do your case no harm. My lord, you did twice interrupt the learned counsel, and forebode him to lead his witnesses; I not once, for I am for stopping no mouths, but sifting all to the bottom. Now, I implore you to let me have fair play in my turn, and an answer from this slippery witness.
The Judge.Prisoner, I do not quite see your drift; but God forbid you should be hampered in your defense. Witness, by virtue of your oath, reply directly. Did this pedlar offer you marriage that night after he left the prisoner?
Ryder.My lord, he did.
Prisoner.And confided to you he had orders to kill Mr. Gaunt?
Ryder.Not he, madam: that was not the way to winme.
Prisoner.What! did not his terrible purpose peep out all the time he was making love to you?
No reply.
Prisoner.You had the kitchen to your two selves? Come, don't hesitate.
Ryder.The other servants were gone to bed. You kept the man so late.
Prisoner.Oh, I mean no reflection on your prudence. You went out of doors with your wooer; just to see him off?
Ryder.Not I. What for? I had nobody to make away with. I just opened the door for him, bolted it after him, and went straight to my bedroom.
Prisoner.How long had you been there when you heard the cry for help?
Ryder.Scarce ten minutes. I had not taken my stays off.
Prisoner.If you and Thomas Hayes speak true, that gives half an hour you were making love with the murderer after he left me. Am I correct?
The witness now saw whither she had been led, and changed her manner: she became sullen, and watched an opportunity to stab.
Prisoner.Had he a mole on his brow?
Ryder.Not that I know of.
Prisoner.Why, where were your eyes, then, when the murderer saluted you at parting?
Ryder's eyes flashed; but she felt her temper tried, and governed it all the more severely. She treated the question with silent contempt.
Prisoner.But you pass for a discreet woman; perhaps you looked modestly down when the assassin saluted you?
Ryder.If he saluted me, perhaps I did.
Prisoner.In that case you could not see his mole; but you must have noticed his shoes. Were these the shoes he wore? Look at them well.
Ryder(after inspecting them). I do not recognise them.
Prisoner.Will you swear these were not the shoes he had on?
Ryder.How can I swear that? I know nothing about the man's shoes. If you please, my lord, am I to be kept here all day with her foolish trifling questions?
The Judge.All day, and all night too, if Justice requires it. The law is not swift to shed blood.
Prisoner.My lord and the gentlemen of the jury were here before you, and will be kept here after you. Prithee attend. Look at that drawing of Hernshaw Castle and Hernshaw Mere. Now take this pencil, and mark your bedroom on the drawing.
The pencil was taken from the prisoner, and handed to Ryder. She waited like a cat till it came close to her; then recoiled with an admirable scream. "Me handle a thing hot from the hand of a murderess! It makes me tremble all over."
This cruel stab affected the prisoner visibly. She put her hand to her bosom, and with tears in her eyes faltered out a request to the judge that she might sit down a minute.
The Judge.To be sure you may. And you, my good woman, must not run before the court, how do you know what evidence she may have in store? At present we have only heard one side. Be more moderate.
The prisoner rose promptly to her feet. "My lord, I welcome the insult that has disgusted your lordship and the gentlemen of the jury, and won me those good words of comfort." To Ryder—"What sort of a night was it?"
Ryder.Very little moon, but a clear, starry night.
Prisoner.Could you see the Mere, and the banks?
Ryder.Nay, but so much of it as faced my window.
Prisoner.Have you marked your window?
Ryder.I have.
Prisoner.Now mark the place where you heard Mr. Gaunt cry for help.
Ryder.'Twas about here; under these trees. And that is why I could not see him: along of the shadow.
Prisoner.Possibly. Did you see me on that side the Mere?
Ryder.No.
Prisoner.What colored dress had I on at that time?
Ryder.White satin.
Prisoner.Then you could have seen me, even among the trees, had I been on that side the Mere?
Ryder.I can't say. However, I never said you were on the very spot where the deed was done; but you were out of doors.
Prisoner.How do you know that?
Ryder.Why, you told me so yourself.
Prisoner.Then that is my evidence, not yours. Swear to no more than you know. Had my husband, to your knowledge, a reason for absconding suddenly?
Ryder.Yes, he had.
Prisoner.What was it?
Ryder.Fear of you.
Prisoner.Nay, I mean, had he not something to fear, something quite different from that I am charged with?
Ryder.You know best, madam. I would gladly serve you, but I cannot guess what you are driving at.
The prisoner was taken aback by this impudent reply. She hesitated to force her servant to expose a husband, whom she believed to be living: and her hesitation looked like discomfiture; and Ryder was victorious in that encounter.
By this time they were both thoroughly embittered, and it was war to the knife.
Prisoner.You listened to our unhappy quarrel that night?
Ryder.Quarrel! madam, 'twas all on one side.
Prisoner.How did you understand what I said to him about the constables?
Ryder.Constables! I never heard you say the word.
Prisoner.Oh!
Ryder.Neither when you threatened him with your knife to me; nor when you threatened him to his face.
Prisoner.Take care: you forget that Jane Bannister heard me; was her ear nearer the keyhole than yours?
Ryder.Jane! she is a simpleton. You could make her think she heard anything. I noticed you put the words in her mouth.
Prisoner.God forgive you, you naughty woman. You had better have spoken the truth.
Ryder.My lord, if you please, am I to be miscalled—by a murderess?
The Judge.Come, come, this is no place for recrimination.
The prisoner now stooped and examined her papers, and took a distinct line of cross-examination.
Prisoner(with apparent carelessness). At all events, you are a virtuous woman, Mrs. Ryder?
Ryder.Yes, madam, as virtuous as yourself, to say the least.
Prisoner(still more carelessly). Married or single?
Ryder.Single, and like to be.
Prisoner.Yes, if I remember right, I made a point of that before I engaged you as my maid.
Ryder.I believe the question was put.
Prisoner.Here is the answer in your handwriting. Is not that your handwriting?
Ryder(after inspecting it). It is.
Prisoner.You came highly recommended by your last mistress, a certain Mrs. Hamilton. Here is her letter, describing you as a model.
Ryder.Well, madam, hitherto I have given satisfaction to all my mistresses, Mrs. Hamilton among the rest. My character does not rest on her word only, I hope.
Prisoner.Excuse me; I engaged, you on her word alone. Now, who is this Mrs. Hamilton?
Ryder.A worshipful lady I served for eight months before I came to you. She went abroad, or I should be with her now.
Prisoner.Now cast your eye over this paper.
It was the copy of a marriage certificate between Thomas Edwards and Caroline Plunkett.
"Who is this Caroline Plunkett?"
Ryder turned very pale, and made no reply.
"I ask you who is this Caroline Plunkett?"
Ryder(faintly). Myself.
The Judge.Why, you said you were single!
Ryder.So I am; as good as single. My husband and me we parted eight years ago, and I have never seen him since.
Prisoner.Was it quite eight years ago?
Ryder.Nearly, 'twas in May, 1739.
Prisoner.Put you have lived with him since.
Ryder.Never, upon my soul.
Prisoner.When was your child born?
Ryder.My child! I have none.
Prisoner.In January, 1743, you left a baby at Biggleswade, with a woman called Church—did you not?
Ryder(panting). Of course I did. It was my sister's.
Prisoner.Do you mean to call God to witness that child was not yours?
Ryder hesitated.
Prisoner.Will you swear Mrs. Church did not see you nurse that child in secret, and weep over it?
At this question the perspiration stood visible on Ryder's brow, her checks were ghastly, and her black eyes roved like some wild animal's round the court. She saw her own danger, and had no means of measuring her inquisitor's information.
"My lord, have pity on me. I was betrayed, abandoned. Why am I so tormented? I have not committed murder." So, catlike, she squealed and scratched at once.
Prisoner.What! to swear away an innocent life, is not that murder?
The Judge.Prisoner, we make allowances for your sex, and your peril, but you must not remark on the evidence at present. Examine as severely as you will, but abstain from comment till you address the jury on your defense.
Sergeant Wiltshire.My lord, I submit that this line of examination is barbarous, and travels out of the case entirely.
Prisoner.Not so, Mr. Sergeant. 'Tis done by advice of an able lawyer. My life is in peril unless I shake this witness's credit. To that end I show you she is incontinent, and practiced in falsehood. Unchastity has been held in these courts to disqualify a female witness, hath it not, my lord?
The Judge.Hardly. But to disparage her evidence it has. And wisely; for she who loses her virtue enters on a life of deceit; and lying is a habit that spreads from one thing to many. Much wisdom there is in ancient words. Our forefathers taught us to call a virtuous woman an honest woman, and the law does but follow in that track; still, however, leaving much to the discretion of the jury.
Prisoner.I would show her more mercy than she has shown to me. Therefore I leave that matter. Witness, be so good as to examine Mrs. Hamilton's letter, and compare it with your own. The "y's" and the "s's" are peculiar in both, and yet the same. Come, confess; Mrs. Hamilton's is a forgery. You wrote it. Be pleased to hand both letters up to my lord to compare; the disguise is but thin.
Ryder.Forgery there was none. There is no Mrs. Hamilton. (She burst into tears.) I had my child to provide for, and no man to help me! What was I to do? A servant must live.
Prisoner.Then why not let her mistress live whose bread she has eaten? My lord, shall not this false witness be sent hence to prison for perjury?
Wiltshire.Certainly not. What woman on earth is expected to reveal her own shame upon oath? 'Twas not fair nor human to put such questions. Come, madam, leave torturing this poor creature. Show some mercy; you may need it yourself.
The Prisoner.Sir, 'tis not mercy I ask, but justice according to law. But, since you do me the honor to make me a request, I will comply, and ask her but one question more. Describe my apartment into which you showed Thomas Leicester that night. Begin at the outer door.
Ryder.First there is the ante-room; then the boudoir; then there's your bed-chamber.
Prisoner.Into which of those three did you show Thomas Leicester?
Ryder.Into the ante-room.
Prisoner.Then why did you say it was in my chamber I entertained him?
Ryder.Madam, I meant no more than that it was your private apartment upstairs.
Prisoner.You contrived to make the gentlemen think otherwise.
The Judge.That you did. 'Tis down in my notes that she received the pedlar in her bed-chamber.
Ryder(sobbing). God is my witness I did not mean to mislead your lordship: and I ask my lady's pardon for not being more exact in that particular.
At this the prisoner bowed to the judge, and sat down with one victorious flash of her grey eye at the witness, who was in an abject condition of fear, and hung all about the witness-box limp as a wet towel.
Sergeant Wiltshire saw she was so thoroughly cowed she would be apt to truckle, and soften her evidence to propitiate the prisoner; so he asked her but one question.
"Were you and the prisoner on good terms?"
Ryder.On the best of terms. She was always a good and liberal mistress to me.
Wiltshire.I will not prolong your sufferings. You may go down.
The Judge.But you will not leave the court till this trial is ended. I have grave doubts whether I ought not to commit you.
Unfortunately for the prisoner, Ryder was not the last witness for the Crown. The others that followed were so manifestly honest that it would have been impolitic to handle them severely. The prisoner, therefore, put very few questions to them; and, when the last witness went down, the case looked very formidable.
The evidence for the Crown being now complete, the judge retired for some refreshment; and the court buzzed like a hum of bees. Mrs. Gaunt's lips and throat were parched; and her heart quaked.
A woman of quite the lower order thrust forth a great arm, and gave her an orange. Mrs. Gaunt thanked her sweetly: and the juice relieved her throat.
Also this bit of sympathy was of good omen, and did her heart good.
She buried her face in her hands, and collected all her powers for the undertaking before her. She had noted down the exact order of her topics, but no more.
The judge returned; the crier demanded silence; and the prisoner rose, and turned her eyes modestly but steadily upon those who held her life in their hands: and, true to the wisdom of her sex, the first thing she aimed at was—to please.
"My lord, and you gentlemen of the jury, I am now to reply to a charge of murder, founded on a little testimony, and a good deal of false, but, I must needs say, reasonable conjecture.
"I am innocent; but unlike other innocent persons who have stood here before me, I have no man to complain of.
"The magistrates who committed me proceeded with due caution and humanity: they weighed my hitherto unspotted reputation, and were in no hurry to prejudge me; here, in this court, I have met with much forbearance; the learned counsel for the Crown has made me groan under his abilities; that was his duty; but he said from the first he would do nothing hard, and he has kept his word; often he might have stopped me; I saw it in his face: but, being a gentleman and a Christian, as well as a learned lawyer, methinks he said to himself, 'this is a poor gentlewoman pleading for her life; let her have some little advantage.' As for my lord, he has promised to be my counsel, so far as his high station, and duty to the Crown, admit; and he has supported and consoled me more than once with words of justice, that would not, I think, have encouraged a guilty person, but have comforted and sustained me beyond expression. So then I stand here, the victim, not of man's injustice, but of deceitful appearances, and of honest, but hasty and loose conjectures.
"These conjectures I shall now sift, and hope to show you how hollow they are.
"Gentlemen, in every disputed matter the best way, I am told, is to begin by settling what both parties are agreed in, and so to narrow the matter. To use that way, then, I do heartily agree with the learned counsel that murder is a heinous crime, and that, black as it is at the best, yet it is still more detestable when 'tis a wife that murders her husband, and robs her child of a parent who can never be replaced.
"I also agree with him that circumstantial evidence is often sufficient to convict a murderer; and, indeed, were it not so, that most monstrous of crimes would go oftenest unpunished: since, of all culprits, murderers do most shun the eyes of men in their dark deeds, and so provide before-hand that direct testimony to their execrable crime there shall be none. Only herein I am advised to take a distinction that escaped the learned sergeant; I say that first of all it ought to be proved directly, and to the naked eye, that a man has been murdered; and then, if none saw the crime done, let circumstances point out the murderer.
"But here, they put the cart before the horse; they find a dead body, with no marks of violence whatever; and labour to prove by circumstantial evidence alone that this mere dead body is a murdered body. This, I am advised, is bad in law, and contrary to general precedents; and the particular precedents for it are not examples, but warnings; since both the prisoners so rashly convicted were proved innocent, after their execution."
(The judge took a note of this distinction.)
"Then, to go from principles to the facts, I agree and admit that, in a moment of anger, I was so transported out of myself as to threaten my husband's life before Caroline Ryder. But afterwards, when I saw him face to face, then, that I threatened him withviolence, that I deny. The fact is I had just learned that he had committed a capital offense: and what I threatened him with was the law. This was proved by Jane Bannister. She says she heard me say the constables should come for him next morning. For what? to murder him?"
The Judge.Give me leave, madam. Shall you prove Mr. Gaunt had committed a capital offense?
Prisoner.I could, my lord; but I am loth to do it. For, if I did, I should cast him into worse trouble than I am in myself.
The Judge(shaking his head gravely). Let me advise you to advance nothing you are not able and willing to prove.
The Prisoner.Then, I confine myself to this: it was proved by a witness for the Crown that in the dining-room I threatened my husband to his face with the law. Now this threat, and not that other extravagant threat, which he never heard you know, was clearly the threat which caused him to abscond that night.
"In the next place, I agree with the learned counsel that I was out of doors at one o'clock that morning. But if he will use me as his witness in that matter, then he must not pick and choose and mutilate my testimony. Nay, let him take the whole truth, and not just so much as he can square with the indictment. Either believe me, that I was out of doors praying, or do not believe me that I was out of doors at all.
"Gentlemen, hear the simple truth. You may see in the map, on the south side of Hernshaw Castle, a grove of large fir-trees. 'Tis a reverend place, most fit for prayer and meditation. Here I have prayed a thousand times and more before the fifteenth October. Hence 'tis called 'the Dame's haunt' as I shall prove, that am the dame 'tis called after.
"Let it not seem incredible to you that I should pray out of doors in my grove, on a fine clear starry night. For aught I know, Protestants may pray only by the fireside. But, remember, I am a Catholic. We are not so contracted in our praying. We do not confine it to little comfortable places. Nay, but for seventeen hundred years and more we have prayed out of doors as much as in doors. And this our custom is no fit subject for a shallow sneer. How does the learned sergeant know that, beneath the vault of heaven at night, studded with those angelic eyes, the stars, is an unfit place to bend the knee, and raise the soul in prayer? Has he ever tried it?"
This sudden appeal to a learned and eminent, but by no means devotional, sergeant, so tickled the gentlemen of the bar, that they burst out laughing with singular unanimity.
This dashed the prisoner, who had not intended to be funny; and she hesitated, and looked distressed.
The Judge.Proceed, madam; these remarks of yours are singular, but quite pertinent, and no fit subject for ridicule. Gentlemen, remember the public looks to you for an example.
Prisoner.My Lord, 'twas my fault for making that personal which should be general. But women they are so. 'Tis our foible. I pray the good Sergeant to excuse me.
"I say, then, generally, that when the sun retires, then earth fades, but heaven comes out in tenfold glory: and I say the starry firmament at night is a temple not built with hands, and the bare sight of it subdues the passions, chastens the heart, and aids the soul in prayer surprisingly. My lord, as I am a Christian woman, 'tis true that my husband had wronged me cruelly and broken the law. 'Tis true that I raged against him and he answered me not again. 'Tis true, as that witness said, that my bark is worse than my bite. I cooled, and then felt I had forgotten the wife and the Christian, in my wrath. I repented, and, to be more earnest in my penitence, I did go and pray out o' doors beneath those holy eyes of heaven that seemed to look down with chaste reproach on my ungoverned heat. I left my fireside, my velvet cushions, and all the little comforts made by human hands, that adorn our earthly dwellings, but distract our eyes from God."
Some applause followed this piece of eloquence, exquisitely uttered. It was checked, and the prisoner resumed, with an entire change of manner.
"Gentlemen, the case against me is like a piece of rotten wood varnished all over. It looks fair to the eye; but will not bear handling.
"As example of what I say, take three charges on which the learned sergeant greatly relied on opening his case:
"1st. That I received Thomas Leicester in my bedroom.
"2nd. That he went hot from me after Mr. Gaunt.
"3rd. That he was seen following Mr. Gaunt with a bloody intent.
"How ugly these three proofs looked at first sight! Well, but when we squeezed the witnesses ever so little, what did these three dwindle down to?
"1st. That I received Thomas Leicester in an ante-room, which leads to a boudoir, and that boudoir leads to my bedroom.
"2nd. That Thomas Leicester went from me to the kitchen, and there, for a good half-hour, drank my ale (as it appears), and made love to his old sweetheart, Caroline Ryder, the false witness for the Crown; and went abroad fresh from her, and not from me.
"3rd. That he was not (to speak strictly) seen following Mr. Gaunt, but just walking on the same road, drunk, and staggering, and going at such a rate that, as the Crown's own witness swore, he could hardly in the nature of things overtake Mr. Gaunt, who walked quicker, and straighter too, than he.
"So then, even if a murder has been done, they have failed to connect Thomas Leicester with it, or me with Thomas Leicester. Two broken links in a chain of but three.
"And now I come to the more agreeable part of my defense. I do think there has been no murder at all.
"There is no evidence of a murder.
"A body is found with the flesh eaten by fishes, but the bones, and the head, uninjured. They swear a surgeon, who has examined the body, and certainly he had the presumption to guess it looks like a murdered body. But, being sifted, he was forced to admit that, so far as his experience of murdered bodies goes, it is not like a murdered body; for there is no bone broken, nor bruise on the head.
"Where is the body found? In the water. But water by itself is a sufficient cause of death, and a common cause too; and kills without breaking bones, or bruising the head. O perversity of the wise! For every one creature murdered in England, ten are accidentally drowned; and they find a dead man in the water, which is as much as to say they find the slain in the arms of the slayer; yet they do not once suspect the water, but go about in search of a strange and monstrous crime.
"Mr. Gaunt's cry for help was heard here, if it was heard at all (which I greatly doubt), here by this clump of trees: the body was found here, hard by the bridge; which is, by measurement, one furlong and sixty paces from that clump of trees, as I shall prove. There is no current in the mere lively enough to move a body, and what there is runs the wrong way. So this disconnects the cry for help, and the dead body. Another broken link!
"And now I come to my third defense, I say the body is not the body of Griffith Gaunt.
"The body, mutilated it was, had two distinguishing marks: a mole on the brow, and a pair of hobnailed shoes on the feet.
"Now the advisers of the Crown fix their eyes on that mole; but they turn their heads away from the hobnailed shoes. But why? Articles of raiment found on a body are legal evidence of identity. How often, my lord, in cases of murder, hath the Crown relied on such particulars, especially in cases where corruption had obscured the features.
"I shall not imitate this partiality, this obstinate prejudice; I shall not ask you to shut your eyes on the mole, as they do on the shoes, but shall meet the whole truth fairly.
"Mr. Gaunt went from my house, that morning, with boots on his feet, and with a mole on his brow.
"Thomas Leicester went the same road, with shoes on his feet, and, as I shall prove, with a mole on his brow.
"To be sure the Crown witnesses did not distinctly admit this mole on him; but, you will remember, they dared not deny it on their oaths, and so run their heads into an indictment for perjury.
"But, gentlemen, I shall put seven witnesses into the box, who will all swear that they have known Thomas Leicester for years, and that he had a mole upon his left temple.
"One of these witnesses is—the mother that bore him.
"I shall then call witnesses to prove that, on the fifteenth of October, the bridge over the mere was in bad repair, and a portion of the side rail gone; and that the body was found within a few yards of that defective bridge; and then, as Thomas Leicester went that way, drunk, and staggering from side to side, you may reasonably infer that he fell into the water in passing the bridge. To show you this is possible, I shall prove the same thing has actually occurred. I shall swear the oldest man in the parish, who will depose to a similar event that happened in his boyhood. He hath said it a thousand times before to-day, and now will swear it. He will tell you that on a certain day, sixty-nine years ago, the parson of Hernshaw, the Rev. Augustus Murthwaite, went to cross this bridge at night, after carousing at Hernshaw Castle with our great-grandfather, my husband's and mine, the then proprietor of Hernshaw; and tumbled into the water; and his body was found, gnawed out of the very form of humanity by the fishes, within a yard or two of the spot where poor Tom Leicester was found, that hath cost us all this trouble. So do the same causes bring round the same events in a cycle of years. The only difference is that the parson drank his death in our dining-room, and the pedlar in our kitchen.
"No doubt, my lord, you have observed that sometimes a hasty and involuntary inaccuracy gives quite a wrong color to a thing. I assure you I have suffered by this. It is said that the moment Mr. Atkins proposed to drag my mere, I fainted away. In this account there is an omission. I shall prove that Mr. Atkins used these words—'And, underneath that water, I undertake to find the remains of Griffith Gaunt.' Now, gentlemen, you shall understand that at this time, and indeed until the moment when I saw the shoes upon that poor corpse's feet, I was in great terror for my husband's life. How could it be otherwise? Caroline Ryder had told me she heard his cry for help. He had disappeared. What was I to think? I feared he had fallen in with robbers. I feared all manner of things. So when the lawyer said so positively he would find his body, I was overpowered. Ah, gentlemen, wedded love survives many wrongs, many angry words; I love my husband still; and, when the man told me so brutally that he was certainly dead, I fainted away. I confess it. Shall I be hanged for that?
"But now, thank God, I am full of hope that he is alive, and that good hope has given me the courage to make this great effort to save my own life.
"Hitherto I have been able to contradict my accusers positively; but now I come to a mysterious circumstance that I own puzzles me. Most persons accused of murder could, if they chose, make a clean breast, and tell you the whole matter. But this is not my case. I know shoes from boots, and I know Kate Gaunt from a liar and a murderess; but, when all is said, this is still a dark mysterious business, and there are things in it I can only deal with as you do, gentlemen, by bringing my wits to bear upon them in reasonable conjecture.
"Caroline Ryder swears she heard Mr. Gaunt cry for help. And Mr. Gaunt has certainly disappeared.
"My accusers have somewhat weakened this by trying to palm off the body of Thomas Leicester on you for the body of Mr. Gaunt. But the original mystery remains, and puzzles me. I might fairly appeal to you to disbelieve the witness. She is proved incontinent, and a practiced liar, and she forswore herself in this court, and my lord is in two minds about committing her. But a liar does not always lie, and, to be honest, I think she really believes she heard Mr. Gaunt cry for help, for she went straight to his bedroom; and that looks as if she really thought she heard his voice. But a liar may be mistaken; do not forget that. Distance affects the voice: and I think the voice she heard was Thomas Leicester's, and the place it came from higher up the mere.
"This, my notion, will surprise you less when I prove to you that Leicester's voice bore a family likeness to Mr. Gaunt's. I shall call two witnesses who have been out shooting with Mr. Gaunt and Tom Leicester, and have heard Leicester halloo in the wood, and taken it for Mr. Gaunt.
"Must I tell you the whole truth? This Leicester has always passed for an illegitimate son of Mr. Gaunt's father. He resembled my husband in form, stature, and voice: he had the Gaunt mole, and has often spoken of it by that name. My husband forgave him many faults for no other reason,—and I bought his wares and filled his pack for no other reason,—than this; that he was my husband's brother by nature, though not in law. 'HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE.'"
"Ah, that is a royal device; yet how often in this business have the advisers of the Crown forgotten it?
"My lord, and gentlemen of the jury, I return from these conjectures to the indisputable facts of my defense.
"Mr. Gaunt may be alive, or may be dead. He was certainly alive on the fifteenth October, and it lies on the Crown to prove him dead, and not on me to prove him alive. But, as for the body that forms the subject of this indictment, it is the body of Thomas Leicester, who was seen on the sixteenth October, at one in the morning, drunk and staggering, and making for Hernshaw bridge, which leads to his mother's house; and on all his former visits to Hernshaw Castle he went on to his mother's, as I shall prove. This time, he never reached her, as I shall prove; but on his way to her did meet his death by the will of God, and no fault of man or woman, in Hernshaw Mere.
"Swear Sarah Leicester."
The Judge.I think you say you have several witnesses?
Prisoner.More than twenty, my lord.
The Judge.We cannot possibly dispose of them this evening. We will hear your evidence tomorrow. Prisoner, this will enable you to consult with your legal advisers, and let me urge upon you to prove, if you can, that Mr. Gaunt has a sufficient motive for hiding and not answering Mr. Atkins' invitation to inherit a large estate. Some such proof is necessary to complete your defense: and I am sorry to see you have made no mention of it in your address, which was otherwise able.
Prisoner.My lord, I think I can prove my own innocence without casting a slur upon my husband.
The Judge.Youthink?when your life is at stake. Be not so mad as to leave so large a hole in your defense, if you can mend it. Takeadvice.
He said this very solemnly; then rose and left the court.
Mrs. Gaunt was conveyed back to prison, and there was soon prostrated by the depression that follows an unnatural excitement.
Mr. Houseman found her on the sofa, pale and dejected, and clasping the gaoler's wife convulsively, who applied hartshorn to her nostrils.
He proved but a Job's comforter. Her defense, creditable as it was to a novice, seemed wordy and weak to him, a lawyer: and he was horrified at the admissions she had made. In her place he would have admitted nothing he could not throughly explain.
He came to insist on a change of tactics.
When he saw her sad condition, he tried to begin by consoling, and encouraging her. But his own serious misgivings unfitted him for this task, and very soon, notwithstanding the state she was in, he was almost scolding her for being so mad as to withstand the judge, and set herself against his advice. "There," said he, "my lord kept his word, and became counsel for you. 'Close that gap in your defense,' says he, 'and you will very likely be acquitted.' 'Nay,' says you, 'I prefer to chance it.' What madness! what injustice!"
"Injustice! to whom?"
"To whom? why, to yourself."
"What, may I not be unjust to myself?"
"Certainly not; you have no right to be unjust to anybody. Don't deceive yourself; there is no virtue in this: it is mere miserable weakness. What right have you to peril an innocent life merely to screen the malefactor from just obloquy?"
"Alas!" said Mrs. Gaunt, "'tis more than obloquy. They will kill him; they will brand him with a hot iron."
"Not unless he is indicted: and who will indict him? Sir George Neville must be got to muzzle the Attorney-General, and the Lancashire jade will not move against him, for you say they are living together."
"Of course they are: and, as you say, why should I screen him? But 'twill not serve, who can combat prejudice? If what I have said does not convince them, an angel's voice would not. Sir, I am a Catholic, and they will hang me. I shall die miserably, having exposed my husband, who loved me once, oh! so dearly. I trifled with his love. I deserve it all."
"You will not die at all, if you will only be good and obedient, and listen to wiser heads. I have subpoenaed Caroline Ryder as your witness, and given her a hint how to escape an indictment for perjury. You will find her supple as a glove."