Then a solemn awe settled down over the faces of the twelve men. They did not hesitate in doing what they believed was their duty, but they felt some natural horror of the result. At last the foreman said:
"Gentlemen, are we all agreed?"
And, as there was no reply, he led them back into court.
They had not been out quite an hour, but the interval seemed terribly long to those they left behind.
When they came in one by one, with drooping heads and set faces, the verdict was read before it was heard. Only the prisoner still held out, with that obstinate unbelief in the worst which is a part of strong natures. Only the prisoner and the prisoner"s counsel. He manifested no sorrow and no surprise. Prescott put his stoical calmness down to over-exhaustion, others of the Bar attributed it to his confidence in the point reserved. The public hardly noticed him.
Their eyes were fixed upon the dock.
The clerk of arraigns stood up, and went as best he could through the tedious process of calling each juryman by name. Then followed the routine question, followed by the awful word, heavy with issues of death, pealing forth through the hushed, agitated hall:
_"Guilty!"_
The prisoner neither moved nor answered, as the clerk formally summoned her to declare if there were any reasons why sentence should not be pa.s.sed upon her. Some of the women whispered that she had gone mad, or that she was going to faint. The judge covered his wig with the sombre square of silk.
Suddenly she looked up, cast her eyes rapidly round the court, and fixing them full on Prescott, who was attentively watching her, she exclaimed:
"I am _not_ guilty."
"Eleanor Margaret Owen, the jury, after a long and patient hearing, and after taking time for careful deliberation, have found you guilty of the crime of wilful murder. What motive inspired you to commit such a crime I cannot say, and it may, perhaps, never be known. It only remains for me to discharge my very painful duty, which I do by declaring that the sentence of the court upon you is----"
The details followed. The words are too familiar to need setting forth. They sounded in unconscious ears. Eleanor Owen had fainted at last, and was carried helpless and lifeless away from the scene of her long martyrdom.
CHAPTER XI.
THE PRISONER"S STATEMENT.
The day after the trial Tressamer went with confident mien to the prison for the purpose of having an interview with Eleanor as to the appeal of which he had given notice.
The governor at first hesitated about permitting this. The prison regulations forbid intercourse with a convict, except under certain rigorous limitations. But the name and function of counsel prevailed, and a warder was sent to fetch the prisoner.
Presently he returned alone, with the startling message that Eleanor positively refused to hold any communication whatever with her late advocate. Tressamer left the gaol with the air of a beaten man.
In his dismay he bethought himself of Prescott, and hurried to the court-house to find him and get his advice. He was there, but he was busy in a case then before the Nisi Prius Court, and it was not till late in the afternoon that Tressamer could get a word with him.
The case had been decided in favour of Prescott"s client, and he strode into the robing-room with a little natural elation. But no sooner did he catch sight of his friend, who was waiting for him there, than his whole manner changed, and a stern expression settled round the corners of his mouth.
It was their first meeting since the result of Eleanor"s trial. They were alone in the room, and Prescott at once addressed the other:
"Tressamer, what have you to say for yourself? I told you yesterday that I should hold you responsible. You disobeyed my advice, and that of everybody else. You set the judge and jury against you, and the result is what you were told it would be. I gave you fair warning, and I tell you now that, unless you have some reason for your conduct of which I know nothing, I cannot look upon you as a friend."
Tressamer pinched in his lips hard as he listened to this.
"I might have expected it," he said. "We all know that love is stronger than friendship. The first woman that likes can break up the strongest attachments of some men."
"Silence!" cried Prescott. "I am not going to bandy retorts with you.
Ever since we were boys I have liked you and befriended you, and borne with your waywardness. You have outraged all your other friends long ago, but I bore with everything till now. But this is too much. Where a life is at stake, to indulge in your freaks of eccentricity! It is murder morally. What are you better than the man who killed that wretched woman?"
Tressamer shook with anger.
"Be careful, Prescott! I will stand a great deal from you, but you are going too far now. You know as well as I do that her life is in no danger. What is old Buller"s opinion worth on a criminal case? Wiseman is worth ten of him, and he is in our favour. The C.C.R. will save her."
"Wretched man! Have you no heart, no moral sense, that you talk like that? As if a mere escape on a technical point could give any comfort to a woman like her! One would think you were wanting in some ingredient of human nature. What does Eleanor herself say?"
"I haven"t seen her," was the muttered reply.
"Haven"t seen her! Then go at once, and get her authority to appear."
"I have been to the prison, but she won"t see me. I suppose she is ill."
A look of positive pleasure crossed the face of the elder man.
"Ill--no, but innocent!" he exclaimed. "I can understand her refusing to see you. You have played with her life for the prize of infamy, and you deserve that she should discard you. This is the best thing I have heard yet. Why, I could almost forgive you now for telling me. I will go this instant and offer my services: they will be those of a plain, honest man."
And, flinging off his wig and gown, he rushed out of the place in a very unwonted state of excitement.
Tressamer was left, bewildered and enraged, to curse his own folly in betraying his defeat to a rival.
When Eleanor was summoned by the gaoler to see Mr. Prescott, she at first thought there must be some mistake.
"Are you sure you don"t mean Mr. Tressamer?" she asked.
"No; he said Prescott."
A faint smile rose in her face. She eagerly a.s.sented to the interview, and in a couple of minutes the two were closeted together.
At first there was a brief, awkward silence. Then Prescott broke it by speaking in calm, precise words:
"It is nearly five years since we met, Miss Owen, but I hope you have not quite forgotten me."
"No, indeed," she answered; "but you should have forgotten me. I know I ought to thank you for this visit, and for dealing so leniently with the case yesterday, but I cannot find the right words. It is all so strange--so terrible and so strange."
Prescott was afraid to look at her, lest the tears should come into his eyes.
"Don"t thank me, please. I wish I could forgive myself for taking that wretched brief at all. I can only say I did so for fear it might fall into the hands of some abler and bitterer prosecutor. The solicitors were your enemies."
"Yes; I refused their services. I have wondered since if I was wise.
It was Mr. Tressamer who advised me."
"And why? Why did you trust yourself so entirely to that man? But I forgot. I believe you are or were engaged."
Eleanor raised her eyes, and looked long and searchingly at her questioner. Suddenly she said: