When Stowell resumed his seat on the bench, and the buzz of
conversation had subsided, he was conscious of the presence of only
three persons besides himself--Bessie in the dock with Fenella by her
side, and Alick Gell, with distorted face and wig a little awry, in
the bench in front of them.
The Jurymen filed back. The Clerk of the Rolls read out their names
and then asked for their formal verdict.
"You find the prisoner Guilty, according to the instructions of the
Court?"
"Aw, yes, guilty enough, poor soul," said the foreman (it was the
northside farmer), "but lave her to the Lord, we say."
There was a titter at this quaint finding, but it was quickly
suppressed. Then the Clerk of the Rolls said,
"I assume that means that you recommend her to mercy?"
"Aw, yes, mercy enough too," said the foreman, "for when the sacrets
of all hearts are revealed it's mercy we'll all be wanting."
After that Stowell was conscious of a still deeper hush in Court. He
saw Bessie, in the full glare of her shame, standing in the dock,
holding the rail with one hand and clinging to Fenella with the other.
He heard himself asking her if she had anything to say why judgment
should not be pronounced upon her. She made no answer, but there was
a strange expression of frightened hope in her face. He
understood--she was expecting that he would save her even at the last
moment.
At that sight there came to him one of those frightful impulses which
tempt people on dizzy heights, from sheer fear of danger, to fling
themselves into the abyss below.
"Prisoner at the bar," he said, "it has been said on your behalf that
you were first led to do what you did by the act of one who remains
unpunished while you have to bear the full weight of your fall. If
you think it will lessen the burden of your crime to plead this as an
extenuating circumstance speak--it is not too late to do so."
Bessie made no reply, and Stowell, who felt Fenella's eyes fixed on
him, continued,
"Don't be afraid. If you think it will lighten your guilt in the
eyes of the Court to mention that man's name, mention it."
Bessie swayed a little, as if dizzy, looked round at Fenella, and
then turned back to the bench and shook her head.
The hush in Court was broken by a rustle of astonishment. Had the
Deemster lost himself? Stowell was conscious of a movement by his
side and of the Governor saying, in an angry whisper,
"Go on, for God's sake!"
At length, in a voice so low as to be only just heard even in the
breathless silence, he said,
"Elizabeth Corteen, you have pleaded guilty to the charge of taking
the life of your innocent child, the little helpless babe who had no
other natural protector than the mother who bore it on her bosom. By
this act you have brought yourself under the condemnation of the law,
and it is for the law to punish you. But out of regard to your
sufferings and the uncertainty as to your motives, the Jury have
recommended you to mercy, and it will be my duty to see that their
prayer is sent, through His Excellency the Governor, to the high and
proper authority, in the hope that the measure of pardon which, in
all but exceptional cases, is granted to persons in your position,
may be extended to you also."
The tears were rolling down Bessie's cheeks, but Stowell saw that she
was still looking up at him with the same expression.
"Meantime," he continued, "and however that may be, the Court has no
choice but to condemn you to the punishment prescribed by law. We
who sit here must act according to our oath and our duty. Justice"
(he was pointing with a trembling hand to the motto under his
father's picture) "is the most sacred thing on earth, and even ....
even if your fellow-sinner himself sat on this bench, his first duty
would be to Justice, for Justice is above all."
Then lowering his head and speaking rapidly, in a muffled and
indistinguishable whisper, Stowell pronounced the sentence of death.
None of it seemed to be clearly heard until he reached the last words
("and may God have mercy on your soul"), and then there came a loud
scream from the dock.
Bessie, who had been leaning forward and listening intently (the look
of hope and expectation on her face darkening to dismay and terror),
had dropped back, and would have fallen but for Fenella, who had
leapt up and caught her.
"Remove the prisoner," said the Governor sharply, and at the next
moment the constables were carrying the girl out of Court screaming
and sobbing.
But before she had gone there was a movement in the benches of the
advocates. Alick Gell had risen again, with wild eyes, and he was
shouting after her:
"Never mind, Bessie! I would rather be you than your Judge."
There was consternation in Court. Everybody was on his feet to look
after the prisoner, and at Gell, who was being hustled out after her.
But hardly had the door closed behind them, when there was another
cry in Court:
"The Deemster!"
Stowell had risen also. He had stood looking after the prisoner
until her last cry had died away in the corridor. Then he had turned
about, as if intending to leave the bench, taken a step forward,
stumbled, and dropped to one knee.
The Governor rose and reached forward to help him. But he recovered
himself immediately. His face was very pale, but he smiled, a
pitiful smile, as if saying, "A little dizziness, nothing more," and
waved off assistance.
Bracing himself up, he stood aside for the Governor to go before him,
and then walked out of Court with a firm step. The ring of his tread
was plainly heard as he passed through the green baize door that led
to the Deemster's room.
The spectators looked into each other's faces as if bewildered by
what they had seen and heard. Although the business of the day was
not yet over most of them trooped out, feeling that they had been
witnessing a drama whereof only a part had been revealed to them--as
by dark shadows on a white blind.