At the Mercy of Tiberius

by Augusta J. Evans

  CHAPTER VII.

  In ante bellum days, when States' Rights was a sacred faith, a reveredand precious palladium, State pride blossomed under Southern skies, andState coffers overflowed with the abundance wherewith God blessed theland. During that period, when it became necessary to select a site fora new Penitentiary, the salubrity and central location of X---had sostrongly commended it, that the spacious structure was erected withinits limits, and regarded as an architectural triumph of which the Statemight justly boast. Soon after this had been completed, the old countyjail, situated on the border of the town, was burned one windy Marchnight; then the red rain of war deluged the land, and when the ghastlysun of "Reconstruction" smiled upon the grave of States' Rights,Municipal money disappeared in subterranean channels. Thus it came topass, that with the exception of a small "lockup" attached to PoliceHeadquarters, X--had failed to rebuild its jail, and domiciled itsdangerous transgressors in the great stone prison; paying therefor tothe State an annual amount per capita.

  Built of gray granite which darkened with time and weather stains, itsmassive walls, machicolated roof, and tall arched clock-tower liftedtheir leaden outlines against the sky, and cast a brooding shadow overthe town, lying below; a grim perpetual menace to all who subsequentlyfound themselves locked in its reformatory arms. Separated from thebustling mart and busy traffic, by the winding river that divided thelittle city into North and South X--, it crested an eminence on thenorth; and the single lower story flanking the main edifice east andwest, resembled the trailing wings of some vast bird of prey, anexaggerated simulacrum of a monstrous gray condor perched on a "coigneof vantage," waiting to swoop upon its victims. Encircled by a tallbrick wall, which was surmounted by iron spikes sharp as bayonets, thatdefied escalade, the grounds extended to the verge of the swift streamin front, and stretched back to the border of a heavily timbered tractof pine land, a bit of primeval forest left to stare at the encroachingarmies of Philistinism.

  Within the precincts of the yard, the tender conservatism of ourgreat-hearted mother Nature, gently toned the savage stony features;and even under the chill frown of iron barred windows, golden sunshinebravely smiled, soft grasses wove their emerald velvet tapestriesstarred and flushed with dainty satin petals, which late Autumn rosesshowered in munificent contribution, to the work of pitying love.

  In a comfortably furnished room situated in the second story of themain building, sat a woman apparently thirty-five years old, who wassinging to a baby lying face downward on her lap, while with one handshe rocked the wicker cradle beside her, where a boy of four years wastossing. Her hazel eyes were full of kindly light, the whole faceeloquent with that patient, limitless tenderness, which is the magicchrism of maternity, wherewith Lucina and Cuba abundantly anointMotherhood. The blessed and infallible nepenthe for all childhood'sills and aches, mother touch, mother songs, soon held soothing sway;and when the woman laid the sleeping babe on her own bed, and coveredher with a shawl, she saw her husband leaning against the partly opendoor.

  "Come here, Susie. The kids are snug and safe for the present, and Iwant you."

  "For shame, Ned! To call our darlings such a beastly name. Kids,indeed! My sweetest, loveliest lambs!"

  "There! Hear yourself! If I can see any choice of respectabilitybetween kids and lambs, may I turn to a thoroughbred Southdown, andtake the blue ribbon at the next Fair. Beasts of the field, all ofthem. The always-wide-awake-contrariness of womankind is a curious andfearful thing. If I had called our beloved towheads, lambs, you wouldhave sworn through blue ruin that they were the cutest, spryest pair ofspotted kids, that ever skipped over a five-railed fence!"

  "So much the worse for you, Ned Singleton, that you are such a hopelessheathen; you do not even know where the Elect are appointed to stand,at that great day when the sheep come up on the right hand of the Lord,and the goats go down to the left. If you read your Bible more, Ishould have less to teach you."

  "Oh! but let me tell you, I thought of all that before I made up mymind to marry the daughter of a Presbyterian preacher. I knew your dearlittle blue-nose would keep the orthodox trail; and being one of theElect you could not get the points of the celestial compass mixed.Don't you forget, that it is part of the unspoken marriage contract,that the wife must not only keep her own soul white, but bleach herhusband's also; and no matter what a reprobate a man may be, he alwaysexpects his better-half, by hook or by crook, to steer him into heaven."

  He put his hands on his wife's shoulders, shook her, in token ofmastery, and kissed her.

  "What do you want of my 'always-wide-awake-contrariness'? I have half amind not to help you out of your scrape; for of course you have miredsomewhere. What is the matter now, Ned?"

  "Yes--stuck hard and fast; so my dear little woman, don't you go backon your wedding-day promises, but just lend a helping hand. I don'tknow what is to be done with that poor young woman in No. 19. One ofthe under-wardens, Jarvis, sleeps this week right under her cell, andhe tells me that all night long she tramps up and down, withoutcessation, like some caged animal. This is her third day in, and shehas not touched a morsel; though at Judge Dent's request I ordered someextras given her. Jarvis said she was not sullen, but he thought itproper to report to me that she seemed to act very strangely; so I wentup to see after her. When I opened the door she was walking up and downthe floor, with her hands locked at the back of her head, and Ideclare, Susie, she looks five years older than when she came here.There are great dark hollows under her eyes, and two red spots likecoals of fire on her cheeks. I said: 'Are you sick, that you rejectyour meals?' To which she replied: 'Don't trouble yourself to send mefood; I cannot eat!' Then I told her I understood that she was restlessat night, and I advised her to take a mixture which would quiet hernerves. She shook her head, and I could not bear to look at her; theeyes seemed so like a wounded fawn's, brimful of misery. I asked her ifthere was anything I could do, to make her more comfortable; or if sheneeded medicine. All this time she kept up her quick walk to and fro,and she answered: 'Thank you. I need nothing--but death; and that willcome soon.' Now what could I say? I felt such a lump in my throat, thatif Solomon had whispered to me some kind speech, I could not haveuttered it, so I got out of the room just as fast as possible, to drythe tears that somehow would blur my eyes. When they are surly, orsnappish, or violent, or insolent, I know exactly what to do, and haveno trouble; but hang me, if I can cope with this lady--there it is out!She is a lady every inch, and as much out of place here as I should bein Queen Victoria's drawing-room. Men are clumsy brutes, even in kidgloves, and bruise much oftener than they heal. Whenever I am in thatgirl's presence, I have a queer feeling that I am walking on eggs, andtip-toe as I may, shall smash things. If something is not done, shewill be ill on our hands, and a funeral will balk the bloodhounds."

  "O, hush, Ned! You give me the shivers. My heart yearns toward thatbeautiful young creature, and I believe she is as innocent as my baby.It is a burning shame to send her here, unless there is no doubt of herguilt. Judge Dent is too shrewd an old fox to be baited with chaff, andI am satisfied from what he told you, that he believes her statement.There is nothing I would not do to comfort her, but I would rather havemy ears boxed than witness her suffering. The day I carried to her achange of clothes, until her own could be washed, and sewed up herdress sleeve. I did nothing but cry. I could not help it, when shemoaned and wrung her hands, and said her mother's heart would break. Ihave heard all my life that justice is blind; I have learned to believeit, for it stumbles, and gropes, and lays iron claws on the wrongperson. As for the lawyers? They are fit pilots: and the courts arelittle better than blind man's buff. Don't stand chewing your mustache,Ned. Tell me what you want me to do, while baby is asleep. She has avexatious habit of taking cat naps."

  "Little woman, I turn over the case to you. Just let your heart loose,and follow it."

  "If I do, will you endorse me?"

  "Till the stars fall."

  "Can you stay here awhile?"

  "Yes,
if you will tell Jarvis where he can find me."

  "Mind you, Ned, you are not to interfere with me?"

  "No--I swear I won't. Hurry up, or there will be much music in thisbleating fold; and you know I am as utterly useless with a cryingchild, as a one-armed man in a concert of fiddlers."

  The cell assigned to the new prisoner was in the centre of a line,which rose tier above tier, like the compartments in a pigeon house, orthe sombre caves hewn out of rock-ribbed cliffs, in some lonely Laura.Iron stairways conducted the unfortunates to these stone cages, wherethe dim cold light filtered through the iron lattice-work of the upperpart of the door, made a perpetual crepuscular atmosphere within. Thebare floor, walls, and low ceiling were spotlessly clean and white; andan iron cot with heavy brown blankets spread smoothly and a woodenbench in one corner, constituted the furniture. Scrupulous neatnessreigned everywhere, but the air was burdened with the odor of carbolicacid, and even at mid-day was chill as the breath of a tomb. Where thedoors were thrown open, they resembled the yawning jaws of rifledgraves; and when closed, the woful inmates peering through the blacklattice seemed an incarnation of Dante's hideous Caina tenants.

  When Mrs. Singleton stopped in front of No. 19, and looked through thegrating, Beryl was standing at the extremity of the cell, with her faceturned to the wall, and her hands clasping the back of her neck. Theceiling was so low she could have touched it, had she lifted her arms,and she appeared to have retreated as far in the gloomy den as thebarriers allowed. Thinking that perhaps the girl was praying, thewarden's wife waited some minutes, but no sound greeted her; and somotionless was the figure, that it might have been only an alto rilievocarved on the wall. Pushing the door open, Mrs. Singleton entered, anddeposited on the iron bed a waiter covered with a snowy napkin. At thesound, Beryl turned, and her arms fell to her side, but she shrank backagainst the wall, as if solitude were her only solace, and humanintrusion an added torture.

  Mrs. Singleton took both hands, and held them firmly:

  "Do you believe it right to commit suicide?"

  "I believe in everything but human justice, and Divine mercy."

  "Your conscience tells you that--"

  "Am I allowed a conscience? What ghastly mockery! Thieves and murderersare not fit tenements for conscience, and I--I--am accused of stealing,and of bloodshed. Justice! What a horrible sham! We--her victims--whoadored the beneficent and incorruptible attribute of God Himself--weare undeceived, when Justice--the harpy--tears our hearts out with herhideous, foul, defiling claws."

  She spoke through set teeth, and a spasm of shuddering shook her fromhead to feet.

  "Listen to me. Suspicion is one thing, proof something very different.You are accused, but not convicted, and--"

  "I shall be. Justice must be appeased, and I am the most convenient andavailable victim. An awful crime has been committed, and outraged law,screaming for vengeance, pounces like a hungry hawk on an innocent andunsuspecting prey. Does she spare the victim because it quivers, anddies hard?"

  "Hush! You must not despair. I believe in your innocence; I believeevery word you uttered that day was true, and I believe that ourmerciful God will protect you. Put yourself in His hands, and His mercywill save, for 'it endureth forever.'"

  "I don't ask mercy! I claim justice--from God and man. The wickedgrovel, and beg for mercy; but innocence lays hold upon the very throneof God, and clutches His sword, and demands justice!"

  "I understand how you feel, and I do not wonder; but for your own sake,in order to keep your mind clear and strong for your vindication, youcertainly ought to take care of your health. Starvation is the surestleech for depleting soul and body. Do you want to die here in prison,leaving your name tarnished, and smirched with suspicion of crime, whenyou can live to proclaim your innocence to the world? Remember thateven if you care nothing for your life, you owe something to yourmother. You have two chances yet; the Grand Jury may not find a truebill--"

  "Yes, that tiger-eyed lawyer will see that they do. He knows that thelaw is a cunning net for the feet of the innocent and the unwary. Heset his snare dexterously, and will not fail to watch it."

  "You mean Mr. Dunbar? Yes, you certainly have cause to dread him; buteven if you should be indicted, you have twelve human hearts full ofcompassion to appeal to--and I can't think it possible a jury of sanemen could look at you and condemn you. You must fight for your life;and what is far more to you than life, you must fight for your goodname, for your character. Suspicion is not proof of crime, and there isno taint on you yet; for sin alone stains, and if you will only bebrave and clear yourself as I know you can, what a grand triumph itwill be. If you starve yourself you seal your doom. An empty stomachwill do you more harm than the Grand Jury and all the lawyers; for itutterly upsets your nerves, and makes your brain whirl like a top. Forthree days and nights you have not tasted food: now just to please me,since I have taken so much trouble, sit down here by me, and eat what Ihave brought. I know you would rather not; I know you don't want it;but, my dear child, take it like any other dose, which will strengthenyou for your battle. It is very fine to rant about heroism, butstarvation is the best factory for turning out cowards: and even thecourage of old Caesar would have had the 'dwindles,' if he had beenstinted in his rations."

  She removed the napkin, and displayed a tempting luncheon, served inpretty, gilt-banded white china. What a contrast it presented, to thesteaming tin platter and dull tin quart cups carried daily to theadjoining cell?

  Beryl laid her hand on Mrs. Singleton's shoulder, and her mouthtrembled.

  "I thank you, sincerely, for your sympathy--and for your confidence;and to show my appreciation of your kindness, I wish I could eat thatdainty luncheon; but I think it would strangle me--I have such aceaseless aching here, in my throat. I feel as if I should stifle."

  "See here! I brought you some sweet rich milk in my little boy's cup.He was my first-born, and I lost him. This was his christening presentfrom my mother. It is very precious, very sacred to me. If you willonly drink what is in it, I shall be satisfied. Don't slight my angelbaby's cup. That would hurt me."

  She raised the pretty "Bo-Peep" silver cup to the prisoner's lips, andseeing the kind hazel eyes swimming in tears, Beryl stooped her headand drank the milk.

  The warden's wife lifted the cup, looked wistfully at it, and kissedthe name engraved on the metal:

  "You know now I must think you pure and worthy. I have given you thestrongest possible proof; for only the good could be allowed to touchwhat my dead boy's lips have consecrated. Now come out with me, and getsome pure fresh air."

  Beryl shrank back.

  "These close walls seem a friendly shelter from the horrible faces thatcluster outside. You can form no idea how I dread contact with the vilecreatures, whose crimes have brought them here for expiation. Thethought of breathing the same atmosphere pollutes me. I think theloathsomeness of perdition must consist in association with thedepraved and wicked. Not the undying flames would affright me, but thedoom of eternal companionship with outcast criminals. No! No! I wouldsooner freeze here, than wander in the sunshine with those hideouswretches I saw the day I was thrust among them."

  "Trust me, and I will expose you to nothing unpleasant. Take your hatand shawl; I shall not bring you back here. There is time enough forcells when you have been convicted and sentenced; and please God, youshall never stay in this one again. Come."

  "Stay, madam. What is your purpose? I have been so hunted down, I amgrowing suspicious of the appearance of kindness. What are you going todo?"

  Mrs. Singleton took her hand and pressed it gently.

  "I am going to trust, and help, and love you, if you will let me; andfor the present, I intend to keep you in a room adjoining mine, whereyou will have no fear of wicked neighbors."

  "That will be merciful indeed. May God bless you for the thought."

  Down iron staircases, and through dim corridors bordered with darkcells, gloomy as the lairs of wild beasts whom the besotted inmatesresembl
ed, the two women walked; and once, when a clank of chains and ahoarse human cry broke the dismal silence, Beryl clutched hercompanion's arm, and her teeth chattered with horror.

  "Yes, it is awful! That poor woman is the saddest case we have. Shewaylaid and stabbed her husband to death, and poisoned his mother. Wethink she is really insane, and as she is dangerous at times, it isnecessary to keep her chained, until arrangements can be made to removeher to the insane asylum."

  "I don't wonder she is mad! People cannot dwell here and retain theirreason; and madness is a mercy that blesses them with forgetfulness."

  Beryl shivered, and her eyes glittered with an unnatural and ominousbrilliance.

  The warden's wife paused before a large door with solid iron panels,and rang a bell. Some one on the other side asked:

  "What is the order? Who rang?"

  "Mrs. Singleton; I want to get into the chapel. Let me out, Jasper."

  The door swung slowly back, and the guard touched his hat respectfully.

  Through an open arcade, where the sunlight streamed, Mrs. Singleton ledher companion; then up a short flight of stone steps, and they foundthemselves in a long room, with an altar railing and pulpit at one end,and rows of wooden benches crossing the floor from wall to wall. Evenhere, the narrow windows were iron barred, but sunshine and the sweet,pure breath of the outside world entered freely. Within the altarrailing, and at the right of the reading desk where a Bible lay, stooda cabinet organ. Leaving the prisoner to walk up and down the aisle,Mrs. Singleton opened the organ, drew out the stops, and after waitinga few moments, began to play.

  At first, only a solemn prelude rolled its waves of harmony through thepeaceful sunny room, but soon the strains of the beautiful Motet "Castthy burden on the Lord," swelled like the voice of some divineconsoler. Watching the stately figure of the prisoner who wandered toand fro, the warden's wife noticed that like a magnet the music drewher nearer and nearer each time she approached the chancel, and at lastshe stood with one hand on the railing. The beautiful face, sharpenedand drawn by mental agony, was piteously wan save where two scarletspots burned on her cheeks, and the rigid lips were gray as somegranite Statue's, but the eyes glowed with a strange splendor thatalmost transfigured her countenance.

  On and on glided the soft, subtle variations of the Motet, andgradually the strained expression of the shining eyes relaxed, as ifthe soul of the listener were drifting back from a far-off realm; thewhite lids quivered, the stern lines of the pale lips unbent. At thatmoment, the face of her father seemed floating on the sunbeams thatgilded the pulpit, and the tones of her mother's voice rang in herears. The terrible tension of many days and nights of torture gave waysuddenly, like a silver thread long taut, which snaps with one lastvibration. She raised her hands:

  "My God! Why hast Thou forsaken me?"

  The cry ended in a wail. Into her burning eyes merciful tears rushed,and sinking on her knees she rested against the railing, shaken by astorm of passionate weeping.

  Mrs. Singleton felt her own tears falling fast, but she played for awhile longer; then stole out of the chapel, and sat down on the steps.

  Across the grass plot before the door, burnished pigeons cooed, andtrod their stately minuet, their iridescent plumage showing everyopaline splendor as the sunlight smote them; and on a buttress of theclock tower, a lonely hedge-sparrow poured his heart out in thatpeculiarly pathetic threnody which no other feathered throatcontributes to the varied volume of bird lays. Poised on the point ofan iron spike in the line that bristled along the wall, a mocking birdpreened, then spread his wings, soared and finally swept downward,thrilling the air with the bravura of the "tumbling song"; and over therampart that shut out the world, drifted the refrain of a paean topeace:

  "Bob White!" "Peas ripe?" "Not quite!"

  In the vast epic of the Cosmos, evoked when the "Spirit of God movedupon the face of the waters"--an epic printed in stars on blue abyssesof illimitable space; in illuminated type of rose leaf, primrose petal,scarlet berry on the great greenery of field and forest; in therainbows that glow on tropical humming birds, on Himalayan pheasants,on dying dolphins in purple seas; and in all the riotous carnival ofcolor on Nature's palette, from shifting glory of summer clouds, to thesteady fires of red autumn skies--we find no blot, no break, no blurredabortive passages, until man stepped into creation's story. In thematerial, physical Universe, the divine rhythm flows on, majestic,serene as when the "morning stars sing together" in the choral ofpraise to Him, unto whom "all seemed good"; but in the moral andspiritual realm evolved by humanity, what hideous pandemonium ofdiscords drowns the heavenly harmony? What grim havoc marks the swath,when the dripping scythe of human sin and crime swings madly, where thelilies of eternal "Peace on earth, good will to man," should lift theirsilver chalices to meet the smile of God?

  A vague conception of this vexing problem, which like a hugecarnivorous spectre, flaps its dusky wings along the sky of sociology,now saddened Mrs. Singleton's meditations, as she watched thelengthening shadow cast by the tower upon the court-yard; but she wasnot addicted to abstract speculation, and the words of her favoritehymn epitomized her thoughts: "Though every prospect pleases, and onlyman is vile."

  The brazen clang of the deep-throated bell rang out on the quiet air,and a moment later, the piercing treble of a child's cry made herspring to her feet. She peeped into the chapel all was still.

  On tiptoe she passed swiftly down the aisle to the chancel, and saw thefigure crouched at the altar, with one arm twined through the railing.For many days and nights the tortured woman had not known an instant ofrepose; nervous dread had scourged her to the verge of frenzy, but whenthe flow of long-pent tears partly extinguished the fire in her brain,overtaxed Nature claimed restitution, and the prisoner yielded tooverwhelming prostration. Death might be hovering near, but her twinsister sleep intervened, and compassionately laid her poppies on thesnowy eyelids.

  Stooping close, Mrs. Singleton saw that tears yet hung on the blacklashes which swept the flushed cheeks, but the parted lips were atrest, and the deep regularly drawn breath told her that at last theweary soul reposed in the peaceful domain of dreams. Deftly, and softlyas thistledown falls, she spread her own shawl over the droopingshoulders, then noiselessly hurried back to the door. Locking it, shetook the key, ran across the grass, into the arcade, and up to thegreat iron barrier, which the guard opened as she approached. Withflying feet she neared her own apartments, whence issued the indignantwail of her implacable baby girl. As she opened the door, her husbandheld the disconsolate child toward her.

  "You are in time for your share of the fun; I have had enough and tospare. How you stand this diabolical din day in, day out, passes mycomprehension. You had not been gone fifteen minutes when Missy tunedup. I patted and, 'She-e-d' her, but she got her head above cover,squinted around the room, and not finding you, set up a squall thatwould have scared a wildcat. The more I patted, the worse she screamed,and her feet and hands flew around like a wind-mill. I took her up, andtrotted her on my knee, but bless you! she squirmed like an eel, andher little bald head bobbed up and down faster than a di-dapper. Then Iwalked her, but I would as soon try to swing to a greased snake. Shewriggled and bucked, and tied herself up into a bow knot, and yelled--.Oh! a Comanche papoose is a dummy to her. As if I had not hands full,arms full, and ears full, Dick must needs wake up and pitch headforemost out of the cradle, and turn a double summerset before helanded upside down on the floor, whereupon he lifted up his voice, andthe concert grew lively. I took him under one arm, so, and laid Missyover my shoulder, and it struck me I would join the chorus in selfdefence, so I opened with all my might on 'Hold the Fort'; but greatTecumseh! I only insulted them both, and finding my fifth fiddle wasnowhere in the fray, I feared Jarvis would hear the howling and ringthe alarm bell, so I just sat down. I spread out Dick in a soft place,where he could not bump his brains out, and laying my lady across mylap, I held her down by main force, while she screamed till she wasblack in the face. If you had
not come just when you did, I should haveturned gray and cross-eyed. Hello, Missy! If she is not cooing andlaughing! Little vixen! Oh! but--'lambs'!--I believe they are!Hereafter tend your own flock; and in preference I will herd youngpanthers."

  He wiped his forehead where the perspiration stood in drops, andwatched with amazement the sudden lull in the tempest.

  Clasped in her mother's arms, the baby smiled and gurgled, and Dick,drying his eyes on the maternal bosom, showed the exact spot where shemust kiss his bruised head.

  "Ned, what have you done? This baby's hair is dripping wet, and so isthe neck of her dress."

  "Serves her right, too. I sprinkled her, that's all."

  "Sprinkled her! Have you lost your senses?"

  "Shouldn't wonder if I had; people in bedlam are apt to be crazy. Yes,I sprinkled Missy, because she turned so black in the face, I thoughtshe was strangling; and my step-mother always sprinkled me when I had afit of tantrums. But let me tell you, Missy will never be a zealousBaptist, she doesn't take to water kindly."

  "When I want my children step-mothered I will let you know. Give methat towel, and baby's woollen cap hanging on the knob of the bureau.Bless her precious heart! if she does not keep you up all night, withthe croup, you may thank your stars."

  "Susie, just tell me how you tame them, so that next time--"

  "Next time, sir, I shall not trust you. I just love them, and they knowit; that is what tames the whole world."

  Edward Singleton stooped over his wife, and kissed her rosy cheek.

  "Little woman, what luck had you in No. 19?"

  "The best I could wish. I have saved that poor girl from brain-fever, Ihope."

  "How did you manage it?"

  "Just simply because I am a flesh and blood woman, and not ablundering, cast-iron man."

  "How does she seem now?"

  "She has had a good, hearty spell of wholesome crying; no hysterics,mind you, but floods of tears; and now she is sound asleep with herhead on the altar railing, in the chapel. I locked her up there, andhere is the key. When she wakes, I want her brought up here, put inthat room yonder, and left entirely to me, until her trial is over. Inever do things half way, Ned, and you need not pucker your eyebrows,for I will be responsible for her. I have put my hand to the plough,and you are not to meddle with the lines, till I finish my furrow."