‘In the interests of public decency,’ Lebbeus amiably assured the court. ‘To try to protect respectable young women—even though colored—from insult on our streets.’
‘And with no malice?’
‘None whatever.’
‘You have no feeling against Mr. Evered personally?’
‘Not at all.’
Judge Saladine rose for another inquiry. ‘On this question of malice, Mr. Lebbeus, have you any feeling against me?’
‘None whatever.’
‘I ask you to recall the circumstances of your marriage.’
That incident was so well remembered that a murmur of mirth went through the courtroom; and Lebbeus colored angrily. Mr. Spree rose to object that the Judge sought to impeach his own witness, but Judge Saladine protested: ‘Not at all. I seek only to clarify the testimony he gave under cross-examination.’ He asked: ‘Now, Mr. Lebbeus, did you resent my marrying you in the way I did?’
‘I thought you presumptuous.’
‘Do you know that Mr. Evered and I are associated in serving the Bingham interests?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know, then, that to that degree anything which hurts him hurts me?’
‘Why should it?’
Judge Saladine smiled and excused him. He called Ira Hodder to describe the circumstances under which the affidavit was made. Hodder testified that Mrs. Hodder brought Mattie to tell him her story; and he said he and she agreed that something should be done. ‘So I took her to Mr. Spree,’ he explained.
‘On the Saturday night in question.’ Judge Saladine asked kindly, ‘what time did you finish supper?’
‘Why, the usual time, I guess.’
‘What is the usual time?’
‘Maybe half-past six or some earlier.’
‘Did Mattie wash the dishes afterward?’
‘I guess so. She’s supposed to.’
‘What time did she leave your house for her home?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t say good-bye to her! I’m no nigger lover!’ At this reference to those taunts which had been directed at John after the affair of Atticus, a smiling stir ran around the crowded courtroom; but Judge Saladine said, unmoved: ‘Let’s go at this patiently, Mr. Hodder. We ought to be able to fix at least some broad limits.’ He pursued the point with a gentle, tireless persistence till in the end Mr. Hodder was persuaded to say positively that Mattie must have left the house before eight o’clock.
When the Judge finished, Levi Spree asked only one question. ‘And you acted, Mr. Hodder, purely as a public-spirited citizen and out of kindness toward this humble representative of an enslaved and downtrodden race?’
‘That’s right.’
Judge Saladine rose again. ‘Did your interest in Mattie lead you to follow her fortunes after she left Bangor?’
‘How’s that?’
‘Do you know why she left Bangor?’
‘She was scared. Some of her colored friends said Mr. Evered would have her put in jail.’
‘Do you know where she went?’
‘She quit her job. Hodder—’
‘Excuse me. You’re not allowed to say what she told Mrs. Hodder. Mrs. Hodder herself can tell us that when she takes the stand. Thank you, that is all.’
Mrs. Hodder was in the courtroom. As her husband resumed his seat, she bristled expectantly; but Judge Saladine ignored her. ‘To complete our proof of publication,’ he said, ‘I would like to put my learned brother, Mr. Spree, on the stand—but of course not without his consent.’
Mr. Spree rose. ‘Defendant admits publication, Your Honor,’ he announced.
Judge Saladine bowed. ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘if the publication of the libel is admitted, I await the defense my brother proposes to offer.’
‘We propose to prove that the facts are as stated in the affidavit.’ Mr. Spree assured him. ‘If the truth is no defense, then a technical libel is admitted; but the question of damage depends on malice, and also on the reputation, before and since the libel, of plaintiff; and on this question of damage we wish to offer testimony.
‘First, to prove the facts, I desire to put in evidence the original deposition of Mattie Hanson. Is there any objection?’
Judge Saladine said: ‘If the Court please, we have tried without success to find Miss Hanson. I assume my learned brother in his very proper zeal for his client has done the same. Her deposition is of course valueless as evidence, since she was not subjected to cross-examination. We therefore object to its admission as evidence of what happened; but we are willing to accept this document as evidence that Mattie Hanson made and swore to the statements there recorded.’
‘That will serve,’ Mr. Spree assented. He spoke to Judge Saladine. ‘As one of our witnesses,’ he said, ‘I shall wish to call Mrs. Evered. She is not in court today. Will it be necessary for us to summon her?’
‘Not at all,’ Judge Saladine assured him. ‘She will be here at any hour you name.’
‘This afternoon, then?’ Mr. Spree requested, and he said: ‘Now we will begin with Mrs. Hodder.’
Mrs. Hodder rose with a brisk energy. She was a large, aggressive woman with a jutting chin, and she marched forward like a General surveying the field of battle and took her place upon the witness stand. But Elder Pittridge did not wait to hear her testimony. The fact that Jenny must face the ordeal of testifying here filled him with an angry consternation. He slipped out to go to her, to warn her before the fact.
He found Jenny and Meg together at Judge Saladine’s home. Meg was pale and troubled, but Jenny seemed perfectly composed. ‘Tell us what’s happening,’ she bade him.
‘You’re going to have to be a witness, Jenny,’ he said unhappily. ‘Mr. Spree wants you in court after dinner, and Judge Saladine promised you’d be there.’
‘Of course,’ she assented. ‘I’ll go. I hate it, but I want to help John.’ Meg protested: ‘Couldn’t father prevent that, Line?’
‘He would have done so if he could,’ Jenny reminded her. ‘Don’t worry, Meg. I’ll be all right.’
‘It’s so hard for you, though,’ Meg insisted. ‘And you haven’t been well lately, Jenny. You’re short of breath, and thin and peaked-looking. I’m worried about you.’
‘Nonsense!’ Jenny told her, quietly and yet with a surprisingly aggressive defiance in her tone. ‘Don’t be absurd, Meg! There’s nothing the matter with me. I’m fine.’
‘You don’t look fine!’ Meg insisted. ‘Oh, I know it isn’t tactful to say so, but you look drawn and miserable. Of course you’ve reason enough, with this awful business hanging over you all winter.’ She leaned to whisper, half-laughingly, in Jenny’s ear; and Jenny said with some asperity: ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ She added in a teasing tone: ‘And as for that, Meg—is Cap’n Pawl well? Has he used you properly? I think he has, for you’re a little pale yourself!’
Meg’s cheeks flamed; and Elder Pittridge, suddenly uncomfortable at this interchange which he must be presumed not to understand, said: ‘I’ll go back, I think. Mr. Spree warned me this morning that he means to call me, too.’
‘You?’ Meg exclaimed in surprise. ‘What can you tell him?’
‘He said it was on the question of damage to John’s reputation.’
Meg laughed. ‘Oh, that! Certainly nothing can really hurt John.’
When Elder Pittridge left them, he thought in a deep rage at John that what Meg had said about Jenny’s pallor was at least to some degree true. The long waiting for the trial had been for her an exhausting ordeal—and for that, John was to blame. The virulence of Elder Pittridge’s feeling toward the other man was by Jenny’s suffering increased and intensified. His passion for her, as though the very frailty which she wore more and more inflamed him, in these last weeks when he dared not go to her had gnawed at him like rats; and a bitter virulence of anger burned in the man in this hour.
Before court opened that afternoon Elder Pittridge met Judge Saladine in the corridors, and the Judge said: ‘Mr. Spree mea
ns to call you, Line.’
‘I know,’ Elder Pittridge assented. He added: ‘I left court this morning, went to tell Jenny he wanted her, took a long walk afterward. What happened?’
‘Very little.’ Judge Saladine smiled. ‘Mrs. Hodder helped us. I managed—with very little difficulty—to get her angry; and she became increasingly dogmatic. She says positively that the colored girl left her house that night at half-past seven. She remembers because she gave Mattie her pay. Jenny—and Pat Tierney and Mrs. McGaw—will all testify that John was at home till long after that.’ He added: ‘Mrs. Hodder also admitted that she dislikes John because he once prosecuted her brother for stealing Bingham lumber.’ And he explained: ‘After her testimony Mr. Spree put on a collection of rag-tag and bobtail, a dozen or fifteen men to swear that John’s reputation was bad. I was able to show that most of them had grudges against him. I think we’re doing very well.’ He saw the other’s nervous tremors and urged: ‘Don’t take it so hard, Line. Just keep calm and answer Mr. Spree’s questions. I’ll take care of you.’
Nevertheless, when court resumed, Line was wet with nervous perspiration, his fists clenched tight upon his knees. Jenny, coming in after he did, passed where he sat on her way to the witness stand, and for a moment he was blinded, his eyes swimming. When he could see again, she stood facing them all, calm and outwardly serene; and her voice, answering Mr. Spree’s questions, was perfectly composed.
When preliminaries were done, Mr. Spree said raspingly: ‘Now Mrs. Evered, I may tell you, since you were not in court this morning, that fourteen witnesses have testified that your husband’s moral reputation, his reputation for chastity, is bad. What do you say to that?’
‘I say it is ridiculous.’
‘You mean,’ he suggested in apparent uncertainty, ‘that his reputation is ridiculous?’
Jenny said serenely: ‘I mean that the statement that Mr. Evered is anything but a fine and upright man in ridiculous.’ She was so small and . . . and so brave, standing steadily there, that Elder Pittridge’s heart swelled with tenderness and pity and love; and he looked toward John and his teeth set in hard fury at that man because he subjected her to this. ‘I see. What is your own estimate of your husband’s moral character?’ ‘He is in every way the finest man I know.’ Her voice rang clear and proudly through the packed courtroom.
‘Very proper, to be sure. But on what do you base that opinion?’ Jenny smiled faintly. ‘On our life together for ten years.’
‘Ah, yes. Let us inquire into that. What are your relations?’
‘Those of a loving and devoted husband and wife.’
‘Then of course you occupy the same room?’
Jenny hesitated only for an instant. ‘Not at present, no,’ she admitted, in a faint confusion.
Mr. Spree seemed surprised. ‘You and your devoted husband occupy separate rooms?’
‘Yes.’
‘How long has that been the arrangement?’
‘For a few months past.’
‘What is the reason for that arrangement?’
Jenny said quietly: ‘I was troubled with sleeplessness. I sleep better if there is nothing to disturb me, no one in the same room.’
‘Did you and Mr. Evered have some discussion before arriving at this arrangement?’
‘Yes, naturally. I reluctantly suggested it, and he, since he is always thoughtful of me, at once assented. I slept better afterward, so the arrangement continued.’
‘There was no other cause—no feeling on your part prejudicial to your husband’s character?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Did you suggest this arrangement after or before you suspected undue familiarity between your husband and Mattie Hanson?’
Jenny said icily: ‘I never had cause to suspect anything of the sort.’
‘I did not inquire as to whether you had cause. Wives are often suspicious without cause. I spoke only of your suspicions.’
‘I had none. I trust Mr. Evered completely.’
Mr. Spree looked toward where John sat and bowed profoundly. ‘My congratulations, Mr. Evered.’ He turned to Jenny again, his voice grating like a file. ‘But though you trust your husband, and love him, you do sleep apart?’
‘Yes.’
Mr. Spree dismissed her, and Judge Saladine rose. ‘Just one or two questions, Mrs. Evered,’ he said. ‘You have read this affidavit?’
‘Yes, the day it was printed. I horsewhipped Mr. Lebbeus that day!’ Lebbeus made a comical grimace and winced elaborately, and the spectators smiled. Elder Pittridge, watching her so steady and serene under these bitter questions, felt a murderous anger toward John, and a great tenderness for her.
‘On the evening referred to in the affidavit,’ the Judge inquired, ‘what were your husband’s actions?’
‘He had supper at home with me and our sons. We talked with our sons till their bedtime.’
‘What is their bedtime?’
‘We start Mat to bed at half-past seven. They’re all tucked in, usually, by eight.’
‘Were they, that night?’
‘No. John—my husband—told them a story. It was a long story, and they enjoyed it and so did he. It was almost half-past eight before we bade them good night.’
‘Did your husband then do something?’
‘He came to town.’
‘Ride or walk?’
‘Tierney drove him to his——’
‘We will let Pat tell us about that. You saw him leave the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did anyone else know when he left the house?’
‘Pat, and Mrs. McGaw.’
Elder Pittridge thought grimly that they would lie to save John, as she was lying; as she had told him she must lie to save her husband. She—or John—must have suborned them too.
‘When did he return?’
‘I had gone to bed just before ten o’clock. He came in to say good night to me a few minutes after.’
Elder Pittridge looked toward where John sat. John’s lips were firm set, his cheek white; but that he should permit her thus to lie filled Elder Pittridge with such a black madness that he had to fight to hold back a furious cry. He saw Judge Saladine sit down, saw Mr. Spree rise once more; heard the ironic question:
‘But in spite of everything—or perhaps because of everything, Mrs. Evered—you and your husband do occupy separate rooms?’
At that repeated inquiry Jenny suddenly was terribly pale. She swayed and, drooping like a flower, went down. Judge Saladine and John leaped to her side. A moment later Jenny passed where Elder Pittridge sat, leaning on John’s arm, her check still white as snow, her head bowed. She and John went out of the room together.
Then Elder Pittridge heard his own name called.
VIII
This man was during the moments he spent on the stand almost wholly insensible of his surroundings. He saw only the lean, foxlike countenance of Mr. Spree; and he saw like a shadow beside it the imagined face of Jenny, pale and fainting from the long torture which John had imposed on her. Yet he heard the questions, heard his own harsh grating voice as he answered them.
‘You are acquainted with John Evered?’
‘I am.’
‘For how long?’
‘I have known him intimately for almost ten years, our acquaintance beginning soon after he came to Bangor.’’
‘You have been friends?’
‘Yes.’
‘Has he discussed with you the alleged damage to his reputation by this publication?’
‘He said no one would believe it.’
‘But if that is true, then his reputation has not suffered?’
‘Certainly his reputation has not suffered.’
‘We have had some testimony here as to just what his reputation is. Did you hear that testimony?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know his reputation?’
‘I suppose I do.’
‘Has anyone ever discussed his moral charac
ter with you?’
Elder Pittridge did not answer, drawing back from that pit in a sharp affright; for Jenny’s name had been on the tip of his tongue. Jenny had most certainly discussed with him her husband’s reputation, but he must not say so. He was silent, and Mr. Spree urged: ‘Come, what is your impression of Mr. Evered’s general reputation as to chastity, as to morals?’
Elder Pittridge said with a venomous precision, grimly relishing his own words and the astonishment they would evoke, and the hurt they would do John: ‘I’m afraid it is bad.’
There was at that word a sharp stir in the courtroom, and then an intense silence. Mr. Spree, if he were surprised, made no sign. He nodded almost casually. ‘That is all.’
He sat down, looking in sharp triumph at Judge Saladine. For a moment the Judge did not speak. Then he said mildly:
‘I have no question to put to Mr. Evered’s good—friend.’
Elder Pittridge winced at those quiet words. He looked at Judge Saladine as though to plead for questions, but the Judge ignored him. Impaled by every eye, Elder Pittridge left the stand. When he came into the aisle, he was conscious of low murmurs, of withdrawings all around. The seat he had left was when he reached it filled. He stood a moment uncertainly beside it, but none made room for him; and he passed out of the door.
In the hall he met John, and Evered spoke to him. ‘Are they through with you, Line?’ Elder Pittridge nodded, and John gripped his hand ‘Thanks, Line,’ he said. ‘I sent Jenny home with Pat and Meg. Go to her, will you? This was hard for her. She needs you.’
Elder Pittridge nodded again and so moved on.
But he did not go to Jenny. He wondered in a dull abstraction whether he would ever see her again. He knew in sudden, full prescience now all that he had done, knew that none of those he had counted his friends would hereafter wish to touch his hand.
5
ELDER PITTRIDGE saw
Jenny twice more. Once she was with John. This was ten days after the trial ended. The jury had given John a verdict of forty-eight hundred dollars damages; a tremendous sum, representing complete vindication. The heavy judgment and Judge Saladine’s prompt action to enforce it left Lebbeus for the time bankrupt, deprived him of his press and plant, and sent him to Boston to await his next remittance from England.
The Strange Woman Page 45
