"Order! silence!" called out the marshal, by way of making himself agreeable--for there was silence in the court, where all the audience at least were more anxious to hear than to speak.
"Your honor, I move that the new witness be heard," said Mr. Romford.
"The defense is closed--the charge given to the jury, who have decided upon their verdict," answered the State"s Attorney.
"The verdict has not been rendered, the jury have the privilege of hearing this new witness," said the judge.
The jury were unanimous in the resolution to withhold their verdict until they had heard.
This being decided, the Sister of Mercy took the stand, threw aside her long, black veil, and revealed the features of Jacquelina; but so pale, weary, anxious and terrified, as to be scarcely recognizable.
The usual oath was administered.
And while Cloudy stood triumphantly by the side of Mr. Willc.o.xen, Jacquelina prepared to give her evidence.
She was interrupted by a slight disturbance near the door, and the rather noisy entrance of several persons, whom the crowd, on beholding, recognized as Commodore Waugh, his wife, his niece, and his servant.
Some among them seemed to insist upon being brought directly into the presence of the judge and jury--but the officer near the door pointed out to them the witness on the stand, waiting to give testimony; and on seeing her they subsided into quietness, and suffered themselves to be set aside for a while.
When this was over--a lady, plainly dressed, and close-veiled, entered, and addressed a few words to the same janitor. But the latter replied as he had to the others, by pointing to the witness on the stand. The veiled lady seemed to acquiesce, and sat down where the officer directed her.
"Order! silence in the court!" cried the marshal, not to be behindhand.
And order and silence reigned when the Sister gave in her evidence as follows:
"My name is Jacquelina L"Oiseau--not Grimshaw--for I never was the wife of Dr. Grimshaw. I do not like to speak further of myself, yet it is necessary, to make my testimony clear. While yet a child I was contracted to Dr. Grimshaw in a civil marriage, which was never ratified. I was full of mischief in these days, and my greatest pleasure was to torment and provoke my would-be bridegroom; alas! alas! it was to that wanton spirit that all the disaster is owing. Thurston Willc.o.xen and Marian Mayfield were my intimate friends. On the morning of the 8th of April, 182-, they were both at Luckenough. Thurston left early. After he was gone Marian chanced to drop a note, which I picked up and read.
It was in the handwriting of Thurston Willc.o.xen, and it appointed a meeting with Marian upon the beach, near Pine Bluff, for that evening."
Here Mr. Romford placed in her hands the sc.r.a.p of paper that had already formed such an important part of the evidence against the prisoner.
"Is that the note of which you speak?"
"Yes--that is the note. And when I picked it up the wanton spirit of mischief inspired me with the wish to use it for the torment of Dr.
Grimshaw, who was easily provoked to jealously! Oh! I never thought it would end so fatally! I affected to lose the note, and left it in his way. I saw him pick it up and read it. I felt sure he thought--as I intended he should think--it was for me. There were other circ.u.mstances also to lead him to the same conclusion. He dropped the note where he had picked it up and pretended not to have seen it; afterwards I in the same way restored it to Marian. To carry on my fatal jest, I went home in the carriage with Marian, to Old Field Cottage, which stands near the coast. I left Marian there and set out to return to Luckenough--laughing all the time, alas! to think that Dr. Grimshaw had gone to the coast to intercept what he supposed to be my meeting with Thurston! Oh, G.o.d, I never thought such jests could be so dangerous! Alas! alas! he met Marian Mayfield in the dark, and between the storm without and the storm within--the blindness of night and the blindness of rage--he stabbed her before he found out his mistake, and he rushed home with her innocent blood on his hands and clothing--rushed home and into my presence, to reproach me as the cause of his crime, to fill my bosom with undying remorse, and then to die! He had in the crisis of his pa.s.sion, ruptured an artery and fell--so that the blood found upon his hands and clothing was supposed to be his own. No one knew the secret of his blood guiltiness but myself. In my illness and delirium that followed I believe I dropped some words that made my aunt, Mrs. Waugh, and Mr.
Cloudesley Mornington, suspect something; but I never betrayed my knowledge of the dead man"s unintentional crime, and would not do so now, but to save the innocent. May I now sit down?"
No! the State"s Attorney wanted to take her in hand, and cross-examine her, which he began to do severely, unsparingly. But as she had told the exact truth, though not in the clearest style, the more the lawyer sifted her testimony, the clearer and more evident its truthfulness and point became; until there seemed at length nothing to do but acquit the prisoner. But courts of law are proverbially fussy, and now the State"s Attorney was doing his best to invalidate the testimony of the last witness.
Turn we from them to the veiled lady, where she sat in her obscure corner of the room, hearing all this.
Oh! who can conceive, far less portray the joy, the unspeakable joy that filled her heart nearly to breaking! He was guiltless! Thurston, her beloved, was guiltless in intention, as he was in deed! the thought of crime had not been near his heart! his long remorse had been occasioned by what he had unintentionally made her suffer. He was all that he had lately appeared to the world! all that he had at first appeared to her!--faithful, truthful, constant, n.o.ble, generous--her heart was vindicated! her love was not the madness, the folly, the weakness that her intellectual nature had often stamped it to be! Her love was vindicated, for he deserved it all! Oh! joy unspeakable--oh! joy insupportable!
She was a strong, calm, self-governing woman--not wont to be overcome by any event or any emotion--yet now her head, her whole form, drooped forward, and she sank upon the low bal.u.s.trade in front of her seat--weighed down by excess of happiness--happiness so absorbing that for a time she forgot everything else; but soon she remembered that her presence was required near the bench, to put a stop to the debate between the lawyers, and she strove to quell the tumultuous excitement of her feelings, and to recover self-command before going among them.
In the meantime, near the bench, the counsel for the prisoner had succeeded in establishing the validity of the challenged testimony, and the case was once more about to be recommitted to the jury, when the lady, who had been quietly making her way through the crowd toward the bench, stood immediately in front of the judge, raised her veil, and Marian Mayfield stood revealed.
With a loud cry the prisoner sprang upon his feet; but was immediately captured by two officers, who fancied he was about to escape.
Marian did not speak one word, she could not do so, nor was it necessary--there she stood alive among them--they all knew her--the judge, the officers, the lawyers, the audience--there she stood alive among them--it was enough!
The audience arose in a ma.s.s, and "Marian!" "Marian Mayfield!" was the general exclamation, as all pressed toward the newcomer.
Jacquelina, stunned with the too sudden joy, swooned in the arms of Cloudy, who, between surprise and delight, had nearly lost his own senses.
The people pressed around Marian, with exclamations and inquiries.
The marshal forgot to be disorderly with vociferations of "Order!" and stood among the rest, agape for news.
Marian recovered her voice and spoke:
"I am not here to give any information; what explanation I have to make is due first of all to Mr. Willc.o.xen, who has the right to claim it of me when he pleases," and turning around she moved toward the dock, raising her eyes to Thurston"s face, and offering her hand.
How he met that look--how he clasped that hand--need not be said--their hearts were too full for speech.
The tumult in the court-room was at length subdued by the rising of the judge to make a speech--a very brief one:
"Mr. Willc.o.xen is discharged, and the court adjourned," and then the judge came down from his seat, and the officers cried, "make way for the court to pa.s.s." And the way was made. The judge came up to the group, and shook hands first with Mr. Willc.o.xen, whom he earnestly congratulated, and then with Marian, who was an old and esteemed acquaintance, and so bowing gravely, he pa.s.sed out.
Still the crowd pressed on, and among them came Commodore Waugh and his family, for whom way was immediately made.
Mrs. Waugh wept and smiled, and exclaimed: "Oh! Hebe! Oh! Lapwing!"
The commodore growled out certain inarticulate anathemas, which he intended should be taken as congratulations, since the people seemed to expect it of him.
And Mary L"Oiseau pulled down her mouth, cast up her eyes and crossed herself when she saw the consecrated hand of Sister Theresa clasped in that of Cloudy!
But Thurston"s high spirit could not brook this scene an instant longer.
And love as well as pride required its speedy close. Marian was resting on his arm--he felt the clasp of her dear hand--he saw her living face--the angel brow--the clear eyes--the rich auburn tresses, rippling around the blooming cheek--he heard her dulcet tones--yet--it seemed too like a dream!--he needed to realize this happiness.
"Friends," he said, "I thank you for the interest you show in us. For those whose faith in me remained unshaken in my darkest hour, I find no words good enough to express what I shall ever feel. But you must all know how exhausting this day has been, and how needful repose is"--his eyes here fell fondly and proudly upon Marian--"to this lady on my arm.
After to-morrow we shall be happy to see any of our friends at Dell-Delight." And bowing slightly from right to left, he led his Marian through the opening crowd.
CHAPTER x.x.xVII.
REUNION.
Who shall follow them, or intrude on the sacredness of their reconciliation, or relate with what broken tones, and frequent stops and tears and smiles, and clinging embraces, their mutual explanations were made?
At last Marian, raising her head from his shoulder, said:
"But I come to you a bankrupt, dear Thurston! I have inherited and expended a large fortune since we parted--and now I am more than penniless, for I stand responsible for large sums of money owed by my "Orphans Home" and "Emigrants Help"--money that I had intended to raise by subscription."
"Now, I thank G.o.d abundantly for the wealth that He has given me. Your fortune, dearest Marian, has been n.o.bly appropriated--and for the rest, it is my blessed privilege to a.s.sume all your responsibilities--and I rejoice that they are great! for, sweetest wife, and fairest lady, I feel that I never can sufficiently prove how much I love and reverence you--how much I would and ought to sacrifice for you!"
"And even now, dear Thurston, I came hither, bound on a mission to the Western prairies, to find a suitable piece of land for a colony of emigrants."