CHAPTER IX.
“—–Her speech is nothing,Yet the unshaped use of it doth moveThe hearers to collection. They aim at it,And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts.”Hamlet.
“—–Her speech is nothing,Yet the unshaped use of it doth moveThe hearers to collection. They aim at it,And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts.”Hamlet.
“—–Her speech is nothing,Yet the unshaped use of it doth moveThe hearers to collection. They aim at it,And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts.”Hamlet.
“—–Her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection. They aim at it,
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts.”
Hamlet.
The reader is not to be surprised at the intimacy which existed between Thomas Dunscomb and the half-educated semi-rude being who was associated with him as counsel in the important cause that was now soon to be tried. Such intimacies are by no means uncommon in the course of events; men often overlooking great dissimilarities in principles, as well as in personal qualities, in managing their associations, so far as they are connected with the affairs of this world. The circumstance that Timms had studied in our counsellor’s office would, as a matter of course, produce certain relations between them in after-life; but the student had made himself useful to his former master on a great variety of occasions, and was frequently employed by him whenever there was a cause depending in the courts of Duke’s, the county in which the unpolished, half-educated, but hard-working and successful county practitioner had established himself. It may be questioned if Dunscomb really knew all the agencies set in motion by his coadjutor in difficult cases; but, whether he did or not, it is quite certain that many of them were of a character not to see the light. It is very much the fashion of our good republic to turn up its nose at all other lands, a habit no doubtinherited from our great ancestors the English; and one of its standing themes of reproach are the legal corruptions and abuses known to exist in France, Spain, Italy, &c.; all over the world, in short, except among ourselves. So far as the judges are concerned, there is a surprising adherence to duty, when bribes alone are concerned, no class of men on earth being probably less obnoxious to just imputations of this character than the innumerable corps of judicial officers; unpaid, poor, hard-worked, and we might almost add unhonoured, as they are. That cases in which bribes are taken do occur, we make no doubt; it would be assuming too much in favour of human nature to infer the contrary; but, under the system of publicity that prevails, it would not be easy for this crime to extend very far without its being exposed. It is greatly to the credit of the vast judicial corps of the States, that bribery is an offence which does not appear to be even suspected at all; or, if there be exceptions to the rule, they exist in but few and isolated cases. Here, however, our eulogies on American justice must cease. All that Timms has intimated and Dunscomb has asserted concerning the juries is true; and the evil is one that each day increases. The tendency of everything belonging to the government is to throw power directly into the hands of the people, who, in nearly all cases, use it as men might be supposed to do who are perfectly irresponsible, have only a remote, and half the time an invisible interest in its exercise; who do not feel or understand the consequences of their own deeds, and have a pleasure in asserting a seeming independence, and of appearing to think and act for themselves. Under such a regime it is self-apparent that principles and law must suffer; and so the result proves daily, if not hourly. The institution of the jury, one of very questionable utility in its best aspects in a country of really popular institutions, becomes nearly intolerable, unless the courts exercise a strong and salutary influence on the discharge of its duties. This influence, unhappily, hasbeen gradually lessening among us for the last half century, until it has reached a point where nothing is more common than to find the judge charging the law one way, and the jury determining it another. In most cases, it is true, there is a remedy for this abuse of power, but it is costly, and ever attended with that delay in hope “which maketh the heart sick.” Any one, of even the dullest apprehension, must, on a little reflection, perceive that a condition of things in which theendsof justice are defeated, or so procrastinated as to produce the results of defeat, is one of the least desirable of all those in which men can be placed under the social compact; to say nothing of its corrupting and demoralizing effects on the public mind.
All this Dunscomb saw, more vividly, perhaps, than most others of the profession, for men gradually get to be so accustomed to abuses as not only to tolerate them, but to come to consider them as evils inseparable from human frailty. It was certain, however, that while our worthy counsellor so far submitted to the force of things as frequently to close his eyes to Timms’s manœuvres, a weakness of which nearly every one is guilty who has much to do with the management of men and things, he was never known to do aught himself that was unworthy of his high standing and well-merited reputation at the bar. There is nothing unusual in this convenient compromise between direct and indirect relations with that which is wrong.
It had early been found necessary to employ local counsel in Mary Monson’s case, and Timms was recommended by his old master as one every way suited to the particular offices needed. Most of the duties to be performed were strictly legal; though it is not to be concealed that some soon presented themselves that would not bear the light. John Wilmeter communicated to Timms the particular state of the testimony, as he and Michael Millington had been enabled to get at it; and among other things he stated his conviction that the occupants of the farm nearest tothe late dwelling of the Goodwins were likely to prove some of the most dangerous of the witnesses against their client. This family consisted of a sister-in-law, the Mrs. Burton already mentioned, three unmarried sisters, and a brother, who was the husband of the person first named. On this hint Timms immediately put himself in communication with these neighbours, concealing from them, as well as from all others but good Mrs. Gott, that he was retained in the case at all.
Timms was soon struck with the hints and half-revealed statements of the persons of this household; more especially with those of the female portion of it. The man appeared to him to have observed less than his wife and sisters; but even he had much to relate, though, as Timms fancied, more that he had gleaned from those around him, than from his own observations. The sisters, however, had a good deal to say; while the wife, though silent and guarded, seemed to this observer, as well as to young Millington, to know the most. When pressed to tell all, Mrs. Burton looked melancholy and reluctant, frequently returning to the subject of her own accord when it had been casually dropped, but never speaking explicitly, though often invited so to do. It was not the cue of the counsel for the defence to drag out unfavourable evidence; and Timms employed certain confidential agents, whom he often used in the management of his causes, to sift this testimony as well as it could be done without the constraining power of the law. The result was not very satisfactory, in any sense, more appearing to be suppressed than was related. It was feared that the legal officers of the State would meet with better success.
The investigations of the junior counsel did not end here. He saw that the public sentiment was setting in a current so strongly against Mary Monson, that he soon determined to counteract it, as well as might be, by producing a reaction. This is a very common, not to say a very powerful agent, in the managementof all interests that are subject to popular opinion, in a democracy. Even the applicant for public favour is none the worse for beginning his advances by “a little aversion,” provided he can contrive to make the premeditated change in his favour take the aspect of a reaction. It may not be so easy to account for this caprice of the common mind, as it is certain that it exists. Perhaps we like to yield to a seeming generosity, have a pleasure in appearing to pardon, find a consolation for our own secret consciousness of errors, in thus extending favour to the errors of others, and have more satisfaction in preferring those who are fallible, than in exalting the truly upright and immaculate; if, indeed, any such there be. Let the cause be what it may, we think the facts to be beyond dispute; and so thought Timms also, for he no sooner resolved to counteract one public opinion by means of another, than he set about the task with coolness and intelligence—in short, with a mixture of all the good and bad qualities of the man.
The first of his measures was to counteract, as much as he could, the effects of certain paragraphs that had appeared in some of the New York journals. A man of Timms’s native shrewdness had no difficulty in comprehending the more vulgar moral machinery of a daily press. Notwithstanding its ‘we’s,’ and its pretension to represent public opinion, and to protect the common interests, he thoroughly understood it was merely one mode of advancing the particular views, sustaining the personal schemes, and not unfrequently of gratifying the low malignity of a single individual; the press in America differing from that of nearly all other countries in the fact that it is not controlled by associations, and does not reflect the decisions of many minds, or contend for principles that, by their very character, have a tendency to elevate the thoughts. There are some immaterial exceptions as relates to the latter characteristic, perhaps, principally growing out of the great extra-constitutional question of slavery, thathas quite unnecessarily been drawn into the discussions of the times through the excited warmth of zealots; but, as a rule, the exciting political questions that elsewhere compose the great theme of the newspapers, enlarging their views, and elevating their articles, may be regarded as settled among ourselves. In the particular case with which Timms was now required to deal, there was neither favour nor malice to counteract. The injustice, and a most cruel injustice it was, was merely in catering to a morbid desire for the marvellous in the vulgar, which might thus be turned to profit.
Among the reporters there exists the same diversity of qualities as among other men, beyond a question; but the tendency of the use of all power is to abuse; and Timms was perfectly aware that these men had far more pride in the influence they wielded, than conscience in its exercise. A ten or a twenty dollar note, judiciously applied, would do a great deal with this “Palladium of our Liberties,”—there being at least a dozen of these important safeguards interested in the coming trial—our associate counsel very well knew; and Dunscomb suspected that some such application of the great persuader had been made, in consequence of one or two judicious and well-turned paragraphs that appeared soon after the consultation. But Timms’s management of the press was mainly directed to that of the county newspapers. There were three of these; and as they had better characters than most of the Manhattanese journals, so were they more confided in. It is true, that the whig readers never heeded in the least anything that was said in “The Duke’s County Democrat;” but the friends of the last took their revenge in discrediting all that appeared in the columns of the Biberry Whig. In this respect, the two great parties of the country were on a par; each manifesting a faith that, in a better cause, might suffice to move mountains; and, on the other hand, an unbelief that drove them into the dangerous folly of disregarding their foes. AsMary Monson had nothing to do with politics, it was not difficult to get suitable paragraphs inserted in the hostile columns, which was also done within eight-and-forty hours after the return of the junior counsel to his own abode.
Timms, however, was far from trusting to the newspapers alone. He felt that it might be well enough to set ‘fire to fight fire;’ but his main reliance was on the services that could be rendered by a timely and judicious use of “the little member.”Talkerswas what he wanted; and well did he know where to find them, and how to get them at work. A few he paid in a direct, business-like way; taking no vouchers for the sums bestowed, the reader may be assured; but entering each item carefully in a little memorandum-book kept for his own private information. These strictly confidential agents went to work with experienced discretion but great industry, and soon had some ten or fifteen fluent female friends actively engaged in circulating “They says,” in their respective neighbourhoods.
Timms had reflected a great deal on the character of the defence it might be most prudent to get up and enlarge on. Insanity had been worn out by too much use of late; and he scarce gave that plea a second thought. This particular means of defence had been discussed between him and Dunscomb, it is true; but each of the counsel felt a strong repugnance against resorting to it; the one on account of his indisposition to rely on anything but the truth; the other, to use his own mode of expressing himself on the occasion in question, because he “believed that jurors could no longer be humbugged with that plea. There have been all sorts of madmen and madwomen—”
“Gentlemen and lady murderers”—put in Dunscomb, drily.
“I ask your pardon, ’Squire; but, since you give me the use of my nose, I will offend as little as possible with the tongue—though, I rather conclude”—a form of expression much in favour with Timms—“that should our verdict be ‘guilty,’ youwill be disposed to allow there may be one lady criminal in the world.”
“She is a most extraordinary creature, Timms; bothers me more than any client I ever had!”
“Indeed! Waal, I had set her down as just the contrary—for to me she seems to be as unconcerned as if the wise four-and-twenty had not presented her to justice in the name of the people.”
“It is not in that sense that I am bothered—no client ever gave counsel less trouble than Mary Monson in that respect. To me, Timms, she does not appear to have any concern in reference to the result.”
“Supreme innocence, or a well-practised experience. I have defended many a person whom I knew to be guilty, and two or three whom I believed to be innocent; but never before had as cool a client as this!”
And very true was this. Even the announcement of the presentment by the grand jury appeared to give Mary Monson no great alarm. Perhaps she anticipated it from the first, and had prepared herself for the event, by an exercise of a firmness little common to her sex until the moments of extreme trial, when their courage would seem to rise with the occasion. On her companion, whom Timms had so elegantly styled her ‘Lady Friend,’ certainly as thoroughly vulgar an expression as was ever drawn into the service of the heroics in gentility, warm-hearted and faithful Marie Moulin, the intelligence produced far more effect. It will be remembered that Wilmeter overheard the single cry of “Mademoiselle” when this Swiss was first admitted to the gaol; after which an impenetrable veil closed around their proceedings. The utmost good feeling and confidence were apparent in the intercourse between the young mistress and her maid; if, indeed, Marie might thus be termed, after the manner in which she was treated. So far from being kept at the distance which itis usual to observe towards an attendant, the Swiss was admitted to Mary Monson’s table; and to the eyes of indifferent observers she might very well pass for what Timms had so elegantly called a “lady friend.” But Jack Wilmeter knew too much of the world to be so easily misled. It is true, that when he paid his short visits to the gaol, Marie Moulin sat sewing at the prisoner’s side, and occasionally she even hummed low, national airs while he was present; but knowing the original condition of the maid-servant, our young man was not to be persuaded that his uncle’s client was her peer, any more than were the jurors who, agreeably to that profound mystification of the common law, are thus considered and termed. Had not Jack Wilmeter known the real position of Marie Moulin, her “Mademoiselle” would have let him deeper into the secrets of the two than it is probable either ever imagined. This word, in common with those of “Monsieur” and “Madame,” are used, by French servants, differently from what they are used in general society. Unaccompanied by the names, the domestics of France commonly and exclusively apply them to the heads of families, or those they more immediately serve. Thus, it was far more probable that Marie Moulin, meeting a mere general acquaintance in the prisoner, would have called her “Mademoiselle Marie,” or “Mademoiselle Monson,” or whatever might be the name by which she had known the young lady, than by the general and still more respectful appellation of “Mademoiselle.” On this peculiarity of deportment Jack Wilmeter speculated profoundly; for a young man who is just beginning to submit to the passion of love is very apt to fancy a thousand things that he would never dream of seeing in his cooler moments. Still, John had fancied himself bound in the spells of another, until this extraordinary client of his uncle’s so unexpectedly crossed his path. Such is the human heart.
Good and kind-hearted Mrs. Gott allowed the prisoner mostof the privileges that at all comported with her duty. Increased precautions were taken for the security of the accused, as soon as the presentment of the grand jury was made, by a direct order from the court; but, these attended to, it was in the power of her whom Timms might have called the “lady sheriff,” to grant a great many little indulgences, which were quite cheerfully accorded, and, to all appearances, as gratefully accepted.
John Wilmeter was permitted to pay two regular visits at the grate each day, and as many more as his ingenuity could invent plausible excuses for making. On all occasions Mrs. Gott opened the outer door with the greatest good will; and, like a true woman as she is, she had the tact to keep as far aloof from the barred window where the parties met, as the dimensions of the outer room would allow. Marie Moulin was equally considerate, generally plying her needle at such times, in the depth of the cell, with twice the industry manifested on other occasions. Nevertheless, nothing passed between the young people that called for this delicate reserve. The conversation, it is true, turned as little as possible on the strange and awkward predicament of one of the colloquists, or the employment that kept the young man at Biberry. Nor did it turn at all on love. There is a premonitory state in these attacks of the heart, during which skilful observers may discover the symptoms of approaching disease, but which do not yet betray the actual existence of the epidemic. On the part of Jack himself, it is true that these symptoms were getting to be not only somewhat apparent, but they were evidently fast becoming more and more distinct; while, on the part of the lady, any one disposed to be critical might have seen that her colour deepened, and there were signs of daily increasing interest in them, as the hours for these interviews approached. She was interested in her young legal adviser; and interest, with women, is the usual precursor of the master-passion. Wo betide the man who cannot interest, but who only amuses!
Although so little to the point was said in the short dialogues between Wilmeter and Mary Monson, there were dialogues held with the good Mrs. Gott, by each of the parties respectively, in which less reserve was observed; and the heart was permitted to have more influence over the movements of the tongue. The first of these conversations that we deem it necessary to relate, that took place after the presentment, was one that immediately succeeded an interview at the barred window, and which occurred three days subsequently to the consultation in town, and two after Timms’s machinery was actively at work in the county.
“Well, how do you find her spirits to-day, Mr. Wilmington?” asked Mrs. Gott, kindly, and catching the conventional sound of the young man’s name, from having heard it so often in the mouth of Michael Millington. “It is an awful state for any human being to be in, and she a young, delicate woman; to be tried for murder, and for setting fire to a house, and all so soon!”
“The most extraordinary part of this very extraordinary business, Mrs. Gott,” Jack replied, “is the perfect indifference of Miss Monson to her fearful jeopardy! To me, she seems much more anxious to be closely immured in gaol, than to escape from a trial that one would think, of itself, might prove more than so delicate a young lady could bear up against.”
“Very true, Mr. Wilmington; and she never seems to think of it at all! You see what she has done, sir?”
“Done!—Nothing in particular, I hope?”
“I don’t know whatyoucall particular; but to me it does seem to be remarkably particular. Didn’t you hear a piano, and another musical instrument, as you approached the gaol?”
“I did, certainly, and wondered who could produce such admirable music in Biberry.”
“Biberry has a great many musical ladies, I can tell you, Mr. Wilmington,” returned Mrs. Gott, a little coldly, though hergood-nature instantly returned, and shone out in one of her most friendly smiles; “and those, too, that have been to town and heard all the great performers from Europe, of whom there have been so many of late years. I have heard good judges say that Duke’s county is not much behind the Island of Manhattan with the piano in particular.”
“I remember, when at Rome, to have heard an Englishman say that some young ladies from Lincolnshire were astonishing the Romans with their Italian accent, in singing Italian operas,” answered Jack, smiling. “There is no end, my dear Mrs. Gott, to provincial perfection in all parts of the world.”
“I believe I understand you, but I am not at all offended at your meaning. We are not very sensitive about the gaols. One thing I will admit, however; Mary Monson’s harp is the first, I rather think, that was ever heard in Biberry. Gott tells me”—this was the familiar manner in which the good woman spoke of thehighsheriff of Duke’s, as the journals affectedly call that functionary—“that he once met some German girls strolling about the county, playing and singing for money, and who had just such an instrument, but not one-half as elegant; and it has brought to my mind a suspicion that Mary Monson may be one of these travelling musicians.”
“What? to stroll about the country, and play and sing in the streets of villages!”
“No, not that; I see well enough she cannot be ofthatsort. But, there are all descriptions of musicians, as well as all descriptions of doctors and lawyers, Mr. Wilmington. Why may not Mary Monson be one of these foreigners who get so rich by singing and playing? She has just as much money as she wants, and spends it freely too. This I know, from seeing the manner in which she uses it. For my part, I wish she had less music and less money just now; for they are doing her no great good in Biberry!”
“Why not? Can any human being find fault with melody and a liberal spirit?”
“Folks will find fault with anything, Mr. Wilmington, when they have nothing better to do. You know how it is with our villagers here, as well as I do. Most people think Mary Monson guilty, and a few do not. Those that think her guilty say it is insolent in her to be singing and playing in the very gaol in which she is confined; and talk loud against her for that very reason.”
“Would they deprive her of a consolation as innocent as that she obtains from her harp and her piano, in addition to her other sufferings! Your Biberry folk must be particularly hard-hearted, Mrs. Gott.”
“Biberry people are like York people, and American people, and English people, and all other people, I fancy, if the truth was known, Mr. Wilmington. What they don’t like they disapprove of, that’s all. Now, was I one of them that believe Mary Monson did actually murder the Goodwins, and plunder their drawers, and set fire to their house, it would go ag’inmyfeelings too, to hear her music, well as she plays, and sweet as she draws out the sounds from those wires. Some of our folks take the introduction of the harp into the gaol particularly hard!”
“Why that instrument more than another? It was the one on which David played.”
“They say itwasDavid’s favourite, and ought only to be struck to religious words and sounds.”
“It is a little surprising that your excessively conscientious people so often forget that charity is the chiefest of all the Christian graces.”
“They think that the love of God comes first, and that they ought never to lose sight of his honour and glory. But I agree with you, Mr. Wilmington; ‘feel for your fellow-creatures’ is my rule; and I’m certain I am then feeling for my Maker.Yes; many of the neighbours insist that a harp is unsuited to a gaol, and they tell me that the instrument on which Mary Monson plays is a real antique.”
“Antique! What, a harp made in remote ages?”
“No, I don’t mean that exactly,” returned Mrs. Gott, colouring a little; “but a harp made so much like those used by the Psalmist, that one could not tell them apart.”
“I dare say David had many varieties of stringed instruments, from the lute up; but harps are very common, Mrs. Gott—so common that we hear them now in the streets, and on board the steamboats even. There is nothing new in them, even in this country.”
“Yes, sir, in the streets and on board the boats; but the public will tolerate things done forthem, that they won’t tolerate in individuals. I suppose you knowthat, Mr. Wilmington?”
“We soon learn as much in this country—but the gaols are made for the public, and the harps ought to be privileged in them, as well as in other public places.”
“I don’t know how it is—I’m not very good at reasoning—but, somehow or another, the neighbours don’t like that Mary Monson should play on the harp; or even on the piano, situated as she is. I do wish, Mr. Wilmington, you could give her a hint on the subject?”
“Shall I tell her that the music is unpleasant toyou?”
“As far from that as possible! I delight in it; but the neighbours do not. Then she never shows herself at the grate, to folks outside, like all the other prisoners. The public wants to see and to converse with her.”
“You surely could not expect a young and educated female to be making a spectacle of herself, for the gratification of the eyes of all the vulgar and curious in and about Biberry!”
“Hush—Mr. Wilmington, you are most too young to take care of such a cause. ’Squire Timms, now, is a man who understandsDuke’s county, and he would tell you it is not wise to talk of the vulgar hereabouts; at least not until the verdict is in. Besides, most people would think that folks have a right to look at a prisoner in the common gaol. I know they act as if they thought so.”
“It is hard enough to be accused and confined, without subjecting the party to any additional degradation. No man has a right to ask to look at Miss Monson, but those she sees fit to receive, and the officials of the law. It would be an outrage to tolerate mere idle curiosity.”
“Well, if you think so, Mr. Wilmington, do not let everybody know it. Several of the clergy have either been here, or have sent to offer their visits, if acceptable.”
“And what has been the answer?” demanded Jack, a little eagerly.
“Mary Monson has received all these offers as if she had been a queen! politely, but coldly; once or twice, or when the Methodist and the Baptist came, and they commonly come first, I thought she seemed hurt. Her colour went and came like lightning. Now, she was pale as death—next, as bright as a rose—what a colour she has at times, Mr. Wilmington! Duke’s is rather celebrated for rosy faces; but it would be hard to find her equal when she is not thinking.”
“Of what, my good Mrs. Gott?”
“Why, most of the neighbours say, of the Goodwins. For my part, as I do not believe she ever hurt a hair of the head of the old man and old woman, I can imagine that she has disagreeable things to think of that are in nowise connected withthem.”
“She certainly has disagreeable things to make her cheeks pale thatareconnected with that unfortunate couple. But, I ought to know all: To what else do the neighbours object?”
“To the foreign tongues—they think when a grand jury hasfound a bill, the accused ought to talk nothing but plain English, so that all near her can understand what she says.”
“In a word, it is not thought sufficient to be accused of such a crime as murder, but all other visitations must follow, to render the charge as horrible as may be!”
“That is not the way they look at it. The public fancies that in a public matter they have a right to know all about a thing.”
“And when there is a failure in the proof, they imagine, invent, and assert.”
“’Tis the ways of the land. I suppose all nations have their ways, and follow them.”
“One thing surprises me a little in this matter,” Jack rejoined, after musing a moment; “it is this. In most cases in which women have any connection with the law, the leaning in this country, and more particularly of late, has been in their favour.”
“Well,” Mrs. Gott quietly but quickly interrupted, “and ought it not to be so?”
“It ought not, unless the merits are with them. Justice is intended to do that which is equitable; and it is not fair to assume that women are always right, and men always wrong. I know my uncle thinks that not only the decisions of late years, but the laws, have lost sight of the wisdom of the past, and are gradually placing the women above the men, makingherinstead ofhimthe head of the family.”
“Well, Mr. Wilmington, and isn’t that quite right?” demanded Mrs. Gott, with a good-natured nod.
“My uncle thinks it very wrong, and that by a mistaken gallantry the peace of families is undermined, and their discipline destroyed; as, in punishment, by a false philanthropy, rogues are petted at the expense of honest folk. Such are the opinions of Mr. Thomas Dunscomb, at least.”
“Ay, Mr. Thomas Dunscomb is an old bachelor; and bachelors’ wives, and bachelors’ children, as we well know, are always admirablymanaged. It is a pity they are not more numerous,” retorted the indomitably good-humoured wife of the sheriff. “But, you see that, in this case of Mary Monson, the feeling is against, rather than in favour of a woman. That may be owing to the fact that one of the persons murdered was a lady also.”
“Dr. McBrain says that both were females—or lady-murdered—as I suppose we must call them; as doubtless you have heard, Mrs. Gott. Perhaps he is believed, and the fact may make doubly against the accused.”
“He isnotbelieved. Everybody hereaboutsknows, that one of the skeletons was that of Peter Goodwin. They say that the District Attorney means to showthat, beyond all dispute. They tell me that it is a law, in a case of this sort, first to show there has been a murder; second, to show who did it.”
“This is something like the course of proceeding, I believe; though I never sat on a trial for this offence. It is of no great moment what the district attorney does, so that he do not prove that Miss Monson is guilty; and this, my kind-hearted Mrs. Gott, you and I do not believe hecando.”
“In that we are agreed, sir. I no more think that Mary Monson did these things, than I think I did them myself.”
Jack expressed his thanks in a most grateful look, and there the interview terminated.