Part 122 (1/2)
”It might be somebody I wouldn't care to encounter?
”That was the reflection I made; though I wasn't much caring who. It was more from habit--by living in the neighbourhood of the Indians--that I drew in among the trees, and waited until the stranger should show himself.
”He did so shortly after.
”You may judge of my surprise when, instead of a stranger, I saw the man from whom I had so lately parted in anger. When I say anger, I don't speak of myself--only him.
”Was he still in the same temper? Had he been only restrained by the presence of his sister from attacking me? Relieved of this, had he come after me to demand satisfaction for the injury he supposed her to have sustained?
”Gentlemen of the jury! I shall not deny, that this was the impression on my mind when I saw who it was.
”I was determined there should be no concealment--no cowardly shrinking on my part. I was not conscious of having committed crime. True I had met his sister clandestinely; but that was the fault of others--not mine--not hers. I loved her with a pure honest pa.s.sion, and with my whole heart. I am not afraid to confess it. In the same way I love her still!”
Louise Poindexter, seated in her carriage behind the outer circle of spectators, is not so distant from the speaker, nor are the curtains so closely drawn, but that she can hear every word pa.s.sing from his lips.
Despite the sadness of her heart, a gleam of joy irradiates her countenance, as she listens to the daring declaration.
It is but the echo of her own; and the glow that comes quickly to her cheeks is not shame, but the expression of a proud triumph.
She makes no attempt to conceal it. Rather does she appear ready to spring up from her seat, rush towards the man who is being tried for the murder of her brother, and with the _abandon_ that love alone can impart, bid defiance to the boldest of his accusers!
If the signs of sorrow soon reappear, they are no longer to be traced to jealousy. Those sweet ravings are well remembered, and can now be trusted as truth. They are confirmed by the confession of restored reason--by the avowal of a man who may be standing on the stoup of death, and can have no earthly motive for a deception such as that!
CHAPTER NINETY.
A COURT QUICKLY CLEARED.
If the last speech has given satisfaction to Louise Poindexter, there are few who share it with her. Upon most of the spectators it has produced an impression of a totally different character.
It is one of the saddest traits of our ign.o.ble nature; to feel pain in contemplating a love we cannot share--more especially when exhibited in the shape of a grand absorbing pa.s.sion.
The thing is not so difficult of explanation. _We_ know that he, or she, thus sweetly possessed, can feel no interest in ourselves.
It is but the old story of self-esteem, stung by the thought of indifference.
Even some of the spectators unaffected by the charms of the beautiful Creole, cannot restrain themselves from a certain feeling of envy; while others more deeply interested feel chagrined to the heart's core, by what they are pleased to designate an impudent avowal!
If the story of the accused contains no better proofs of his innocence it were better untold. So far, it has but helped his accusers by exciting the antipathy of those who would have been otherwise neutral.
Once more there is a murmuring among the men, and a movement among the rowdies who stand near Calhoun.
Again seems Maurice Gerald in danger of being seized by a lawless mob, and hanged without farther hearing!
The danger exists only in seeming. Once more the major glances significantly towards his well-trained troop; the judge in an authoritative voice commands ”Silence in the Court!” the clamouring is subdued; and the prisoner is permitted to proceed.
He continues his recital:--
”On seeing who it was, I rode out from among the trees, and reined up before him.
”There was light enough for him to see who I was; and he at once recognised me.