At the Mercy of Tiberius

by Augusta J. Evans

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  As a glassy summer sea suddenly quivers, heaves, billows under thestrong steady pressure of a rising gale, so that human mass surged andbroke in waves of audible emotion, when Beryl's voice ceased; for thegrace and beauty of a sorrowing woman hold a spell more potent thanvolumes of forensic eloquence, of juridic casuistry, of rhetoricalpyrotechnics, and at its touch, the latent floods of pity gushed;people sprang to their feet, and somewhere in the wide auditory a womansobbed. Habitues of a celebrated Salon des Etrangers recall thetradition of a Hungarian nobleman who, apparently calm, nonchalant,debonair, gambled desperately; "while his right hand, resting easilyinside the breast of his coat, clutched and lacerated his flesh tillhis nails dripped with blood." With emotions somewhat analogous, Mr.Dunbar sat as participant in this judicial rouge et noir, where thestakes were a human life, and the skeleton hand of death was alreadyoutstretched. Listening to the calm, mournful voice which alone hadpower to stir and thrill his pulses, he could not endure the pain ofwatching the exquisite face that haunted him day and night; and when hecomputed the chances of her conviction, a maddening perception of herdanger made his brain reel.

  To all of us comes a supreme hour, when realizing the adamantinelimitations of human power, the "thus far, no farther" of relentlessphysiological, psychological and ethical statutes under which humanitylives, moves, has its being--our desperate souls break through themeshes of that pantheistic idolatry which kneels only to "NaturalLaws"; and spring as suppliants to Him, who made Law possible. We takeour portion of happiness and prosperity, and while it lasts we wanderfar, far away in the seductive land of philosophical speculation, andrevel in the freedom and irresponsibility of Agnosticism; and lo! whenadversity smites, and bankruptcy is upon us, we toss the husks of the"Unknowable and Unthinkable" behind us, and flee as the Prodigal whoknew his father, to that God whom (in trouble) we surely know.

  Certainly Lennox Dunbar was as far removed from religious tendencies asconformity to the canons of conventional morality and the habits of anhonorable gentleman in good society would permit; yet to-day, in theintensity of his dread, lest the "consummate flower" of his heart'sdearest hope should be laid low in the dust, he involuntarily invokedthe aid of a long-forgotten God; and through his set teeth a prayerstruggled up to the throne of that divine mercy, which in sunshine wedo not see, but which as the soul's eternal lighthouse gleams, glows,beckons in the blackest night of human anguish. In boyhood, desiring toplease his invalid and slowly dying mother, he had purchased and hungup opposite her bed, an illuminated copy of her favorite text; and now,by some subtle transmutation in the conservation of spiritual energy,each golden letter of that Bible text seemed emblazoned on the dustywall of the court-room: "God is our refuge and strength, a very presenthelp in trouble."

  When a stern reprimand from the Judge had quelled all audibleexpression of the compassionate sympathy that flowed at the prisoner'sstory--as the flood at Horeb responded to Moses' touch--there was abrief silence.

  Mr. Dunbar rose, crossed the intervening space and stood with his handon the back of Beryl's chair; then moved on closer to the jury box.

  "May it please your Honor, and Gentlemen of the Jury: Sometimesmistakes are crimes, and he who through unpardonable rashness commitsthem, should not escape 'unwhipped of justice'. When a man in thedischarge of that which he deemed a duty, becomes aware thatunintentionally he has perpetrated a great wrong, can he parley withpride, or dally, because the haunting ghost of consistency waves himback from the path of a humiliating reparation? Error is easy,confession galling; and stepping down from the censor's seat to sharethe mortification of the pillory, is at all times a peculiarly painfulreverse; hence, powerful indeed must be the conviction which impels aman who prided himself on his legal astuteness, to come boldly intothis sacred confessional of truth and justice and plead for absolutionfrom a stupendous mistake. Two years ago, I became Gen'l Darrington'sattorney, and when his tragic death occurred in October last, myprofessional relations, as well as life-long friendship, incited me tothe prompt apprehension of the person who had murdered him. After acareful and apparently exhaustive examination of the authenticatedfacts, I was convinced that they pointed only in one direction; and inthat belief, I demanded and procured the arrest of the prisoner. Forher imprisonment, her presence here to-day, her awful peril, I holdmyself responsible; and now, gentlemen of the jury, I ask you as menhaving hearts of flesh, and all the honorable instincts of manhood,which alone could constitute you worthy umpires in this issue of lifeor death, do you, can you wonder that regret sits at my ear, chantingmournful dirges, and remorse like a harpy fastens her talons in mysoul, when I tell you, that I have committed a blunder so frightful,that it borders on a crime as heinous as that for which my victimstands arraigned? Wise was the spirit of a traditional statute, whichdecreed that the author of a false accusation should pay the penaltydesigned for the accused; and just indeed would be the retribution,that imposed on me the suffering I have entailed on her.

  "Acknowledging the error into which undue haste betrayed me, yetconfident that divine justice, to whom I have sworn allegiance, hasrecalled me from a false path to one that I can now tread with absolutecertainty of success, I come to-day into this, her sacred temple, laymy hand on her inviolate altar, and claiming the approval of herofficiating high-priest, his Honor, appeal to you, gentlemen of thejury, to give me your hearty co-operation in my effort to repair a foulwrong, by vindicating innocence.

  "Professors of ophthalmology in a diagnosis of optical diseases, tellus of a symptom of infirmity which they call pseudoblepsis, or 'falsesight.' Legal vision exhibits, now and then, a corresponding phase ofunconscious perversion of sight, whereby objects are perceived that donot exist, and objects present become transformed, distorted; and suchan instance of exaggerated metamorphosia is presented to-day, in theperverted vision of the prosecution. In the incipiency of this case,prior to, and during the preliminary examination held in October last,I appeared in conjunction with Mr. Wolverton, as assistant counsel inthe prosecution, represented by the Honorable Mr. Churchill, DistrictSolicitor; the object of said prosecution being the conviction of theprisoner, who was held as guilty of Gen'l Darrington's death.Subsequent reflection and search necessitated an abandonment of viewsthat could alone justify such a position; and after consultation withmy colleagues I withdrew; not from the prosecution of the realcriminal, to the discovery and conviction of whom I shall dedicateevery energy of my nature, but from the pursuit of one most unjustlyaccused. Anomalous as is my attitude, the dictates of conscience,reason, heart, force me into it; and because I am the implacableprosecutor of Gen'l Darrington's murderer, _I_ COME TO PLEAD IN DEFENSEOF THE PRISONER, whom I hold guiltless of the crime, innocent of thecharge in the indictment. In the supreme hour of her isolation, she hasinvoked only one witness; and may that witness, the God above us, theGod of justice, the God of innocence, grant me the inspiration, andnerve my arm to snatch her from peril, and triumphantly vindicate thepurity of her noble heart and life."

  Remembering the important evidence which he had furnished to theprosecution, only a few hours previous, when on the witness stand,people looked at one another questioningly; doubting the testimony oftheir own senses; and VOX POPULI was not inaptly expressed by thewhispered ejaculation of Bedney to Dyce.

  "Judgment day must be breaking! Mars Lennox is done turned a doublesummersett, and lit plum over on t'other side! It's about ekal to aspavinned, ring-boned, hamstrung, hobbled horse clearin' a ten-railfence! He jumps so beautiful, I am afeered he won't stay whar he lit!"

  Comprehending all that this public recantation had cost a proud man,jealous of his reputation for professional tact and skill, as well asfor individual acumen, Beryl began to realize the depth and fervor ofthe love that prompted it; and the merciless ordeal to which he wouldsubject her. Inflicting upon himself the smarting sting of the keenestpossible humiliation, could she hope that in the attainment of his aimhe would spare her? If she threw herself even now upo
n his mercy, wouldhe grant to her that which he had denied himself?

  Dreading the consequences of even a moment's delay, she rose, and a hotflush crimsoned her cheeks, as she looked up at the Judge.

  "Is it my privilege to decide who shall defend me? Have I now the rightto accept or reject proffered aid?"

  "The law grants you that privilege; secures you that right."

  "Then I decline the services of the counsel who offers to plead in mydefence. I wish no human voice raised in my behalf, and having made mystatement in my own defence, I commit my cause to the hands of my God."

  For a moment her eyes dwelt upon the lawyer's, and as she resumed herseat, she saw the spark in their blue depths leap into a flame.Advancing a few steps, his handsome face aglow, his voice rang like abugle call:

  "May it please your Honor: Anomalous conditions sanction, necessitatemost anomalous procedure, where the goal sought is simple truth andjustice; and since the prisoner prefers to rest her cause, I come tothis bar as Amicus Curiae, and appeal for permission to plead in behalfof my clients, truth and justice, who hold me in perpetual retainment.In prosecution of the real criminal, in order to unravel the curiouslyknitted web, and bring the culprit to summary punishment, I ask you,gentlemen of the jury, to ponder dispassionately the theory I have nowthe honor to submit to your scrutiny.

  "The prisoner, whom I regard as the victim of my culpable haste anddeplorably distorted vision, is as innocent of Gen'l Darrington'smurder as you or I; but I charge, that while having no complicity inthat awful deed, she is nevertheless perfectly aware of the name of theperson who committed it. Not particeps crimmis, neither consenting to,aiding, abetting nor even acquainted with the fact of the crime, untilaccused of its perpetration; yet at this moment in possession of theonly clue which will enable justice to seize the murderer. Conscious ofher innocence, she braves peril that would chill the blood of men, andextort almost any secret; and shall I tell you the reason? Shall I giveyou the key to an enigma which she knows means death?

  "Gentlemen of the jury, is there any sacrifice so tremendous, anyanguish so keen, any shame so dreadful, any fate so overwhelminglyterrible as to transcend the endurance, or crush the power of a woman'slove? Under this invincible inspiration, when danger threatens heridol, she knows no self; disgrace, death affright her not; she extendsher arms to arrest every approach, offers her own breast as a shieldagainst darts, bullets, sword thrusts, and counts it a privilege to laydown life in defence of that idol. O! loyalty supreme, sublime,immortal! thy name is woman's love.

  "All along the march of humanity, where centuries have trailed theirdust, traditions gleam like monuments to attest the victory of thisimmemorial potency, female fidelity; and when we of the nineteenthcentury seek the noblest, grandest type of merely humanself-abnegation, that laid down a pure and happy life, to prolong thatof a beloved object, we look back to the lovely image of that fairGreek woman, who, when the parents of the man she loved refused to givetheir lives to save their son, summoned death to accept her as awilling victim; and deeming it a privilege, went down triumphantly intothe grave. Sustained, exalted by this most powerful passion that cananimate and possess a human soul, the prisoner stands a pure,voluntary, self-devoted victim; defying the terrors of the law,consenting to condemnation--surrendering to an ignominious death, inorder to save the life of the man she loves.

  "Grand and beautiful as is the spectacle of her calm mournful heroism,I ask you, as men capable of appreciating her noble self-immolation,can you permit the consummation of this sacrifice? Will you, dare you,selected, appointed, dedicated by solemn oaths to administer justice,prove so recreant to your holy trust as to aid, abet, becomeaccessories to, and responsible for the murder of the prisoner byaccepting a stainless victim, to appease that violated law which onlythe blood of the guilty can ever satisfy?

  "In order to avert so foul a blot on the escutcheon of our Statejudiciary, in order to protect innocence from being slaughtered, andsupremely in order to track and bring to summary punishment thecriminal who robbed and murdered Gen'l Darrington, I now desire, andrequest, that your Honor will permit me to cross-examine the prisoneron the statement she has offered in defence."

  "In making that request, counsel must be aware that it is one of thestatutory provisions of safety to the accused, whom the law holdsinnocent until proved guilty, that no coercion can be employed toextort answers. It is, however, the desire of the court, and certainlymust accrue to the benefit of the prisoner, that she should take thewitness stand in her own defence."

  For a moment there was neither sound nor motion.

  "Will the prisoner answer such questions as in the opinion of the courtare designed solely to establish her innocence? If so, she will takethe stand."

  With a sudden passionate movement at variance with her demeanorthroughout the trial, she threw up her clasped hands, gazed at them,then pressed them ring downward as a seal upon her lips; and after aninstant, answered slowly:

  "Now and henceforth, I decline to answer any and all questions. I aminnocent, entirely innocent. The burden of proof rests upon myaccusers."

  As Mr. Dunbar watched her, noted the scarlet spots burning on hercheeks, the strange expression of her eyes that glowed with unnaturallustre, a scowl darkened his face; a cruel smile curved his lips, andmade his teeth gleam. Was it worth while to save her against her will;to preserve the heart he coveted, for the vile miscreant to whom shehad irrevocably given it? With an upward movement of his noble head,like the impatient toss of a horse intolerant of curb, he stepped backclose to the girl, and stood with his hand on the back of her chair.

  "In view of this palpable evasion of justice through obstinate nonresponsion, will it please the Court to overrule the prisoner'sobjection?"

  Several moments elapsed before Judge Parkman replied, and he gnawed theend of his grizzled mustache, debating the consequences of dishonoringprecedent--that fetich of the Bench.

  "The Court cannot so rule. The prisoner has decided upon the line ofdefence, as is her inalienable right; and since she persistentlyassumes that responsibility, the Court must sustain her decision."

  The expression of infinite and intense relief that stole over thegirl's countenance, was, noted by both judge and jury, as she sank backwearily in her chair, like one lifted from some rack of torture.Resting thus, her shoulder pressed against the hand that lay on the topof the chair, but he did not move a finger; and some magnetic influencedrew her gaze to meet his. He felt the tremor that crept over her,understood the mute appeal, the prayer for forbearance that made hermournful gray eyes so eloquent, and a sinister smile distorted hishandsome mouth.

  "The spirit and intent of the law, the usages of criminal practice,above all, hoary precedent, before which we bow, each and all sanctionyour Honor's ruling; and yet despite everything, the end I sought isalready attained. Is not the refusal of the prisoner proof positive,'confirmation strong as proofs of Holy Writ' of the truth of my theory?With jealous dread she seeks to lock the clue in her faithful heart,courting even the coffin, that would keep it safe through all thestorms of time. Impregnable in her citadel of silence, with the cohortsof Codes to protect her from escalade and assault, will the guardiansof justice have obeyed her solemn commands when they permit theprisoner to light the funeral pyre where she elects to throw herself--avicarious sacrifice for another's sins? For a nature so exalted, theProvidence who endowed it has decreed a nobler fate; and by His help,and that of your twelve consciences, I purpose to save her from aspecies of suicide, and to consign to the hangman the real criminal.The evidence now submitted, will be furnished by the testimony ofwitnesses who, at my request, have been kept without the hearing of theCourt."

  He left Beryl's chair, and once more approached the jury,

  "Isam Hornbuckle."

  A negro man, apparently sixty years old, limped into the witness stand,and having been sworn, stood leaning on his stick, staring uneasilyabout him.

  "What is your name?"

  "Isam Clay Hornbu
ckle."

  "Where do you live?"

  "Nigh the forks of the road, close to 'Possum Ridge."

  "How far from town?"

  "By short cuts I make it about ten miles; but the gang what works theroad, calls it twelve."

  "Have you a farm there?"

  "Yes'ir. A pretty tolerable farm; a cornfield and potato patch andgyarden, and parsture for my horgs and oxin, and a slipe of woods formy pine knots."

  "What is your business?"

  "Tryin' to make a livin', and it keeps me bizzy, for lans is poor, andseasons is most ginerally agin crops."

  "How long have you been farming?"

  "Only sence I got mashed up more 'an a year ago on the railroad."

  "In what capacity did you serve when working on the road?"

  "I was fireman under ingeneer Walker on the lokymotive 'Gin'lBorygyard,' what most ginerally hauled Freight No. 2. The ingines goesnow by numbers, but we ole hands called our'n always 'Borygyard'."

  "You were crippled in a collision between two freight trains?"

  "Yes'ir; but t'other train was the cause of the--"

  "Never mind the cause of the accident. You moved out to 'Possum Ridge;can you remember exactly when you were last in town?"

  "To be shore! I know exactly, 'cause it was the day my ole 'oman'sstep-father's granny's funeral sarmont was preached; and that was on aThursday, twenty-sixth of October, an' I come up to 'tend it."

  "Is it not customary to preach the funeral sermons on Sunday?"

  "Most generally, Boss, it are; but you see Bre'r Green, what was topreach the ole 'oman's sarmont, had a big baptizin' for two Sundayshan' runnin', and he was gwine to Boston for a spell, on the nextcomin' Saddy, so bein' as our time belonks to us now, we was free to'pint a week day."

  "You are positive it was the twenty-sixth?"

  "Oh, yes'ir; plum postiv. The day was norated from all the baptisschurches, so as the kinfolks could gether from fur and nigh."

  "At what hour on Thursday was the funeral sermon preached?"

  "Four o'clock sharp."

  "Where did you stay while in town?"

  "With my son Ducaleyon who keeps a barber-shop on Main Street."

  "When did you return home?"

  "I started before day, Friday mornin', as soon as the rain hilt up."

  "At what hour, do you think?"

  "The town clock was a strikin' two, jes as I passed the express office,at the station."

  "Now, Isam, tell the Court whom you saw, and what happened; and be verycareful in all you say, remembering you are on your oath."

  "I was atoting a bundle so--slung on to a stick, and it gaided myshoulder, 'cause amongst a whole passel of plunder I had bought, therwas a bag of shot inside, what had slewed 'round oft the balance, and Isot down, close to a lamp-post nigh the station, to shift the heft ofthe shot bag. Whilst I were a squatting, tying up my bundle, I heeredall of a suddent--somebody runnin', brip--brap--! and up kern a manfrom round the corner of the stationhouse, a runnin' full tilt; and hewould a run over me, but I grabbed my bundle and riz up. Sez I: 'Hello!what's to pay?' He was most out of breath, but sez he: 'Is the train inyet?' Sez I: 'There ain't no train till daylight, 'cepting it be thethrough freight.' Then he axed me: 'When is that due?' and I tole him:'Pretty soon, I reckon, but it don't stop here; it only slows up at thewater tank, whar it blows for the Bridge.' Sez he: 'How fur is thatbridge?' Sez I: 'Only a short piece down the track, after you pass thetank.' He tuck a long breath, and kinder whistled, and with that heturned and heeled it down the middle of the track. I thought it mightycurus, and my mind misgive me thar was somethin' crooked; but I alwayspintedly dodges; 'lie-lows to ketch meddlers,' and I went on my way.When I got nigh the next corner whar I had to turn to cross the river,I looked back and I seen a 'oman standin' on the track, in front of thestation-house; but I parsed on, and soon kem to the bridge (not therailroad bridge), Boss. I had got on the top of the hill to the left ofthe Pentenchry, when I hearn ole 'Bory' blow. You see I knowed therunnin' of the kyars, 'cause that through freight was my olestormpin-ground, and I love the sound of that ingine's whistle more 'anI do my gran'childun's hymn chunes. She blowed long and vicious like,and I seen her sparks fly, as she lit out through town; and then Ifooted it home."

  "You think the train was on time?"

  "Bound to be; she never was cotched behind time, not while I stuffedher with coal and lightwood knots. She was plum punctchul."

  "Was the lamp lighted where you tied your bundle?"

  "Yes'ir, burnin' bright."

  "Tell the Court the appearance of the man whom you talked with."

  Mr. Dunbar was watching the beautiful face so dear to him, and saw theprisoner lean forward, her lips parted, all her soul in the wide,glowing eyes fastened on the countenance of the witness.

  "He was very tall and wiry, and 'peared like a young man what hadparstured 'mongst wild oats. He seemed cut out for a gintleman, but runto seed too quick and turned out nigh kin to a dead beat. One-half ofhim was hanssum, 'minded me mightly of that stone head with kurly hairwhat sets over the sody fountin in the drug store, on Main Street. Oh,yes'ir, one side was too pretty for a man; but t'other! Fo' Gawd!t'other made your teeth ache, and sot you cross-eyed to look at it. Hetoted a awful brand to be shore."

  "What do you mean by one side? Explain yourself carefully now."

  "I dun'no as I can 'splain, 'cause I ain't never seed nothing like itafore. One 'zact half of him, from his hair to his shirt collar waswhite and pretty, like I tell you, but t'other side of his face wasblack as tar, and his kurly hair was gone, and the whiskers on thatside--and his eye was drapped down kinder so, and that side of hismouth sorter hung, like it was unpinned, this way. Mebbee he was bornso, mebbee not; but he looked like he had jes broke loose from theconjur, and caryd his mark."

  For one fleeting moment, the gates of heaven seemed thrown wide, andthe glory of the Kingdom of Peace streamed down upon the aching heartof the desolate woman. She could recognize no dreaded resemblance inthe photograph drawn by the witness; and judge, jury and counsel whoscrutinized her during the recital of the testimony, were puzzled bythe smile of joy that suddenly flashed over her features, like ilieradiance of a lamp lifted close to some marble face, dim with shadows.

  "Do you think his face indicated that he had been engaged in adifficulty, in a fight? Was there any sign of blood, or anything thatlooked as if he had been bruised and wounded by some heavy blow?"

  "Naw, sir. Didn't seem like sech bruises as comes of fightin'. 'Pearedto me he was somehow branded like, and the mark he toted was onnatral."

  "If he had wished to disguise himself by blackening one side of hisface, would he not have presented a similar appearance?"

  "Naw, sir, not by no manner of means. No minstrel tricks fotch him tothe pass he was at. The hand of the Lord must have laid too heavy onhim; no mortal wounds leave sech terrifyin' prints."

  "How was he dressed?"

  "Dunno. My eyes never drapped below that curus face of his'n."

  "Was he bareheaded?"

  "Bar headed as when he come into the world."

  "He talked like a man in desperate haste, who was running to escapepursuit?"

  "He shorely did."

  "Did you mention to any person what you have told here to-day?"

  "I tole my ole 'oman, and she said she reckoned it was a buth mark whatthe man carryd; but when I seen him I thunk he was cunjured."

  "When you heard that Gen'l Darrington had been murdered, did you thinkof this man and his singular behavior that night?"

  "I never hearn of the murder till Christmas, 'cause I went down toElbert County arter a yoke of steers what a man owed me, and thar Ituck sick and kep my bed for weeks. When I got home, and hearn the talkabout the murder, I didn't know it was the same night what I seen thebranded man."

  "Tell the Court how your testimony was secured."

  "It was norated in all our churches that a 'ward was offered for a lamecullud pusson of my 'scription, and Dea
con Nathan he cum down and axedme what mischief I'de been a doin', that I was wanted to answer fur. Heread me the 'vertisement, and pussuaded me to go with him to youroffice, and you tuck me to Mr. Churchill."

  Mr. Dunbar bowed to the District Solicitor, who rose and cross-examined.

  "Can you read?"

  "Naw, sir."

  "Where is your son Deucalion?"

  "Two days after I left town he want with a 'Love and Charity'scurschion up north, and he liked it so well in Baltymore, he staidthar."

  "When Deacon Nathan brought you up to town, did you know for whatpurpose Mr. Dunbar wanted you?"

  "Naw, sir."

  "Was it not rather strange that none of your friends recognized thedescription of you, published in the paper?"

  "Seems some of 'em did, but felt kind of jub'rus 'bout pinting me out,for human natur is prone to crooked ways, and they never hearn Iperfessed sanctification."

  "Who told you the prisoner had heard your conversation with the man youmet that night?"

  "Did she hear it? Then you are the first pusson to tell me."

  "How long was it, after you saw the man, before you heard the whistleof the freight train?"

  "As nigh as I kin rickolect about a half a hour, but not quite."

  "Was it raining at all when you saw the woman standing on the track?"

  "Naw, sir. The trees was dripping steady, but the moon was shining."

  "Do you know anything about the statement made by the prisoner?"

  "Naw, sir."

  "Fritz Helmetag."

  As Isam withdrew, a middle-aged man took the stand, and in answer toMr. Dunbar's questions deposed: "That he was 'bridge tender' on therailroad, and lived in a cottage not far from the water tank. On thenight of the twenty-sixth of October, he was sitting up with a sickwife, and remembered that being feverish, she asked for some freshwater. He went out to draw some from the well, and saw a man standingnot far from the bridge. The moon was behind a row of trees, but henoticed the man was bareheaded, and when he called to know what hewanted, he walked back toward the tank. Five minutes later the freighttrain blew, and after it had crossed the bridge, he went back to hiscottage. The man was standing close to the safety signal, a white lightfastened to an iron stanchion at south end of the bridge, and seemed tobe reading something. Next day, when he (witness) went as usual toexamine the piers and under portions of the bridge, he had found thepipe, now in Mr. Dunbar's possession. Tramps so often rested on thebridge, and on the shelving bank of the river beneath it, that heattached no importance to the circumstance; but felt confident the pipewas left by the man whom he had seen, as it was not there the previousafternoon; and he put it in a pigeon-hole of his desk, thinking theowner might return to claim it. On the same day, he had left X--tocarry his wife to her mother, who lived in Pennsylvania, and was absentfor several weeks. Had never associated the pipe with the murder, butafter talking with Mr. Dunbar, who had found the half of an envelopenear the south end of the bridge, he had surrendered it to him. Did notsee the man's face distinctly. He looked tall and thin."

  Here Mr. Dunbar held up a fragment of a long white em elope such asusually contain legal documents, on which in large letters was written"LAST WILL"--and underscored with red ink. Then he lifted a pipe, forthe inspection of the witness, who identified it as the one he hadfound.

  As he turned it slowly, the Court and the multitude saw only ameerschaum with a large bowl representing a death's head, to which wasattached a short mouth-piece of twisted amber.

  The golden gates of hope clashed suddenly, and over them flashed adrawn sword, as Beryl looked at the familiar pipe, which her babyfingers had so often strained to grasp. How well she knew the ghastlyivory features, the sunken eyeless sockets--of that veritable death'shead? How vividly came back the day, when asleep in her father's arms,a spark from that grinning skull had fallen on her cheek, and she awoketo find that fond father bending in remorseful tenderness over her?Years ago, she had reverently packed the pipe away, with other articlesbelonging to the dead, and ignorant that her mother had given it toBertie, she deemed it safe in that sacred repository. Now, like theface of Medusa it glared at her, and that which her father's lips hadsanctified, became the polluted medium of a retributive curse upon hisdevoted child. So the Diabolus ex machina, the evil genius of eachhuman life decrees that the most cruel cureless pangs are inflicted bythe instruments we love best.

  Watching for some sign of recognition, Mr. Dunbar's heart was firedwith jealous rage, as he marked the swift change of the prisoner'scountenance; the vanishing of the gleam of hope, the gloomy desperationthat succeeded. The beautiful black brows met in a spasm of pain overeyes that stared at an abyss of ruin; her lips whitened, she wrung herhands unconsciously; and then, as if numb with horror, she leaned backin her chair, and her chin sank until it touched the black ribbon ather throat. When after a while she rallied, and forced herself tolisten, a pleasant-faced young man was on the witness stand.

  "My name is Edgar Jennings, and I live at T----, in Pennsylvania. I amticket agent at that point, of----railway. One day, about the last ofOctober (I think it was on Monday), I was sitting in my office when aman came in, and asked if I could sell him a ticket to St. Paul. I toldhim I only had tickets as far as Chicago, via Cincinnati. He bought oneto Cincinnati and asked how soon he could go on. I told him the trainfrom the east was due in a few minutes. When he paid for his ticket hegave me a twenty-dollar gold piece, and his hand shook so, he droppedanother piece of the same value on the floor. His appearance was soremarkable I noticed him particularly. He was a man about my age, verytall and finely made, but one half of his face was black, or rathervery dark blue, and he wore a handkerchief bandage-fashion across it.His left eye was drawn down, this way, and his mouth was one-sided. Hisright eye was black, and his hair was very light brown. He wore aclose-fitting wool hat, that flapped down and his clothes wereseal-brown in color, but much worn, and evidently old. I asked himwhere he lived, and he said he was a stranger going West, on apioneering tour. Then I asked what ailed his face, and he pulled thehandkerchief over his left eye, and said he was partly paralyzed froman accident. Just then, the eastern train blew for T----. He said hewanted some cigars or a pipe, as he had lost his own on the way, andwondered if he would have time to go out and buy some. I told him no;but that he could have a couple of cigars from my box. He thanked me,and took two, laying down a silver dime on top of the box. He put hishand in the inside pocket of his coat, and pulled out an emptyenvelope, twisted it, lit it by the coal fire in the grate, and lightedhis cigar. The train rolled into the station; he passed out, and I sawhim jump aboard the front passenger coach. He had thrown the paper, ashe thought, into the fire, but it slipped off the grate, fell justinside the fender, and the flame went out. There was something so verypeculiar in his looks and manner, that I thought there was some mysteryabout his movements. I picked up the paper, saw the writing on it, andlocked it up in my cash drawer. He had evidently been a very handsomeman, before his 'accident', but he had a jaded, worried, wretched look.When a detective from Baltimore interviewed me, I told him all I knew,and gave him the paper."

  Again Mr. Dunbar drew closer to the jury, held up the former fragmentof envelope, and then took from his pocket a second piece. Jagged edgesfitted into each other, and he lifted for the inspection of hundreds ofeyes, the long envelope marked and underscored:-"LAST WILL ANDTESTAMENT OF ROBERT LUKE DARRINGTON." The lower edge of the paper wasat one corner brown, scorched, somewhat burned.

  "Lucullus Grantlin."

  An elderly man of noble presence advanced, and Mr. Dunbar met and shookhands with him, accompanying him almost to the stand. At sight of hiswhite head, and flowing silvery beard, Beryl's heart almost ceased itspulsation. If, during her last illness her mother had acquainted himwith their family history, then indeed all was lost. It was asimpossible to reach him and implore his silence, as though the oceanrocked between them; and how would he interpret the pleading gaze shefixed upon his face? The imminen
ce of the danger, vanquished everyscruple, strangled her pride. She caught Mr. Dunbar's eye, beckoned himto approach.

  When he stood before her, she put out her hand, seized one of his, anddrew him down until his black head almost touched hers. She placed herlips close to his ear, and whispered:

  "For God's sake spare the secrets of a death-bed. Be merciful to menow; oh! I entreat you--do not drag my mother from her grave! Do notquestion Doctor Grantlin."

  She locked her icy hands around his, pressing it convulsively. Turning,he laid his lips close to the silky fold of hair that had fallenacross her ear:

  "If I dismiss this witness, will you tell me the truth? Will you giveme the name of the man whom I am hunting? Will you confess all to me?"

  "I have no sins to confess. I have made my last statement. If you laidmy coffin at my feet, I should only say I am innocent; I would tell younothing more."

  "Then his life is so precious, you are resolved to die, rather thantrust me?"

  She dropped his hand, and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes.When she opened them, Doctor Grantlin was speaking:

  "I am on my way to Havana, with an invalid daughter, and stopped herelast night, at the request of Mr. Dunbar."

  "Please state all that you know of the prisoner, and of thecircumstances which induced her to visit X----."

  "I first saw the prisoner in August last, when she summoned me to seeher mother, who was suffering from an attack of fever. I discoveredthat she was in a dangerous condition in consequence of an aneurismlocated in the carotid artery, and when she had been relieved ofmalarial fever, I told both mother and daughter that an operation wasnecessary, to remove the aneurism. Soon after, I left the city for amonth, and on my return the daughter again called me in. I advised thatwithout delay the patient should be removed to the hospital, where asurgeon--a specialist--could perform the operation. To this the younglady objected, on the ground that she could not assist in nursing, ifher mother entered the hospital; and she would not consent to theseparation. She asked what amount would be required to secure at homethe services of the surgeon, a trained nurse, and the subsequenttreatment; and I told her I thought a hundred dollars would cover allincidentals, and secure one of the most skilful surgeons in the city. Icontinued from time to time to see the mother, and administered suchmedicines as I deemed necessary to invigorate and tone up the patient'ssystem for the operation. One day in October, the young lady came topay me for some prescriptions, and asked if a few weeks' delay wouldenhance the danger of the operation. I assured her it was important tolose no time, and urged her to arrange matters so as to remove thepatient to the hospital as soon as possible, offering to procure heradmission. She showed great distress, and informed me that she hoped toreceive very soon a considerable sum of money, from some artisticdesigns that she felt sure would secure the prize. A week later shecame again, and I gave her a prescription to allay her mother'snervousness. Then, with much agitation, she told me that she was goingSouth by the night express, to seek assistance from her mother'sfather, who was a man of wealth, but had disowned Mrs. Brentano onaccount of her marriage. She asked for a written statement of thepatient's condition, and the absolute necessity of the operation. Iwrote it, and as she stood looking at the paper, she said:

  "'Doctor do you believe in an Ahnung?' I said, 'A what?' She answeredslowly and solemnly: 'An Ahnung--a presentiment? I have a crushingpresentiment that trouble will come to me, if I leave mother; and yetshe entreats, commands me to go South. It is my duty to obey her, butthe errand is so humiliating I shrink, I dread it. I shall not be longaway, and meanwhile do please be so kind as to see her, and cheer herup. If her father refuses to give me the one hundred dollars, I willtake her to the hospital when I return.' I walked to the door with her,and her last words were: 'Doctor, I trust my mother to you; don't lether suffer.' I have never seen her again, until I entered this room. Ivisited Mrs. Brentano several times, but she grew worse very rapidly.One night the ensuing week, my bell was rung at twelve o'clock, and awoman gave me this note, which was written by the prisoner immediatelyafter her arrest, and which enclosed a second, addressed to her mother."

  As he read aloud the concluding lines invoking the mother's prayers,the doctor's voice trembled. He took off his spectacles, wiped them,and resumed:

  "I was shocked and distressed beyond expression, for I could no moreconnect the idea of crime with that beautiful, noble souled girl, thanwith my own sinless daughter; and I reproached myself then, and doublycondemn myself now, that I did not lend her the money. All that waspossible to alleviate the suffering of that mother, I did mostfaithfully. Under my personal superintendence she was made comfortablein the hospital; and I stood by her side when Doctor--operated on theaneurism; but her impaired constitution could not bear the strain, andshe sank rapidly. She was delirious, and never knew why her daughterwas detained; because I withheld the note. Just before the end came,her mind cleared, and she wrote a few lines which I sent to theprisoner. From all that I know of Miss Brentano, I feel constrained tosay, she impressed me as one of the purest, noblest and most admirablecharacters I have ever met. She supported her mother and herself by herpencil, and a more refined, sensitive woman, a more tenderly devoteddaughter I have yet to meet."

  "Does your acquaintance with the family suggest any third party, whowould be interested in Gen'l Darrington's will, or become a beneficiaryby its destruction?"

  "No. They seemed very isolated people; those two women lived withoutany acquaintances, as far as I know, and apared proudly indifferent tothe outside world. I do not think they had any relatives, and the onlyname I heard Mrs. Brentano utter in her last illness was,'Ignace,--Ignace.' She often spoke of her'darling,' and her 'goodlittle girl'."

  "Did you see a gentleman who visited the prisoner? Did you ever hearshe had a lover?"

  "I neither saw any gentleman, nor heard she had a lover. In January, Ireceived a letter from the prisoner enclosing an order on S--& E--,photographers of New York, for the amount due her, on a certain designfor a Christmas card, which had received the Boston first prize ofthree hundred dollars. With the permission of the Court, I should liketo read it. There is no objection?"

  "PENITENTIARY CELL, JANUARY 8TH

  "In the name of my dead, whom I shall soon join--I desire to thank you,dear Doctor Grantlin, for your kind care of my darling; and especiallyfor your delicate and tender regard for all that remains on earth of myprecious mother. The knowledge that she was treated with the reverencedue to a lady, that she was buried--not as a pauper, but sleeps herlast sleep under the same marble roof that shelters your dear departedones, is the one ray of comfort that can ever pierce the awful gloomthat has settled like a pall over me. I am to be tried soon for theblack and horrible crime I never committed; and the evidence is sostrong against me, the circumstances I cannot explain, are so accusing,the belief of my guilt is so general in this community, that I have nohope of acquittal; therefore I make my preparations for death. Pleasecollect the money for which I enclose an order, and out of it, take theamount you spent when mother died. It will comfort me to know, that wedo not owe a stranger for the casket that shuts her away from allgrief, into the blessed Land of Peace. Keep the remainder, and when youhear that I am dead, unjustly offered up an innocent victim to appeasejustice, that must have somebody's blood in expiation, then take mybody and mother's and have us laid side by side in the Potter's field.The law will crush my body, but it is pure and free from every crime,and it will be worthy still to touch my mother's in a common grave. Oh,Doctor! Does it not seem that some terrible curse has pursued me; andthat the three hundred dollars I toiled and prayed for, was kept backten days too late to save me? My Christmas card will at least bury usdecently--away from the world that trampled me down. Do not doubt myinnocence, and it will comfort me to feel that he who closed mymother's eyes, believes that her unfortunate child is guiltless andunstained. In life, and in death, ever

  "Most gratefully your debtor,

  "BERYL BRENTANO."


  A few moments of profound silence ensued: then Doctor Grantlin handedsome article to Mr. Dunbar, and stepping down from the stand, walkedtoward the prisoner.

  She had covered her face with her hands, while he gave his testimony:striving to hide the anguish that his presence revived. He placed hishand on her shoulder, and whispered brokenly:

  "My child, I know you are innocent. Would to God I could help you toprove it to these people!"

  The terrible strain gave way suddenly, her proud head was laid againsthis arm, and suppressed emotion shook her, as a December storm smitesand bows some shivering weed.