Immediately upon the opening of the court, the morning after Silas
Thatcher's arrest, the prosecuting attorney arose and made a neat
little speech, in which he admitted his conviction that an error had
been made in the accusation of Dorn Hackett, expressed his
gratification at the discovery of the new and unimpeachable evidence
of the innocence of the accused afforded by his learned brother from
New York, and, in conclusion, desired to move the entry of a _nolle
prosequi_ in the case of the People _vs._ Dorman Hackett. In short,
never did hunter retire with better grace from a hopeless chase. The
motion was promptly granted by the court, and Dorn Hackett was a free
man once again.
Lem Pawlett shouted and hurrahed at the top of his voice, defying two
sedate officers of the court who sought to hush him; and many others
joined in his cheers--almost all, indeed, for so fickle are the
multitude, so worshipful of success, and so easily influenced by
impulse, that their purposes and the currents of their feelings vary
like the shifting winds. How many there were who now said that they
"had always looked upon Dorn Hackett as a noble fellow, one who could
not be guilty of a crime!" How many who declared they had "thought his
arrest a great mistake from the first!" And they found it the easier
to forgive Dorn for escaping since they had another victim in
prospect, in his stead. Not even Deacon Harkins was altogether
unhappy, for he still had a horrid example at whom to aim his homilies
and texts. All that was necessary was to substitute the name of Silas
for that of Dorn, and his stream of malignant cant flowed steadily on.
Dorn was conducted into the judge's private room, where he found Mary
awaiting him with open arms, glad smiles, and tears of joy in her
bright eyes. How happy and how beautiful she looked. He pressed her to
his breast, again and again, with rapture: but the lovers' hearts
were too full for speech. The greatest joys, like the deepest griefs,
are voiceless; mere words humble, even profane them. Could those two
loving ones have phrased the gratitude, to the Giver of all Good, that
thrilled their souls? Ah, no! They could only kiss and be happy.
In the court-room without it was very evident that, for a time at
least, there need not be any hope of doing business. Even after Lem
had been silenced,--thanks not to the two sedate officers but to
little Ruth, who had by this time regained all her authority--there
was still kept up such a buzz of conversation, interchange of
ejaculations and comments, breaking out afresh in one place as soon as
quelled in another, lulling for an instant and then recommencing with
even greater vigor, that the judge and prosecuting attorney pantomimed
to each other that there might just as well be an adjournment until
the afternoon. And after the prosecutor had laid his little sacrifice
upon the altar of form, in a statement, audible only to those at his
elbows, that he would not be ready until afternoon to go on with the
next case upon the docket, the judge ordered an adjournment and
retired to his room.
"Well, young folks," he said cheerily, finding the lovers in each
other's arms, of course, "you seem to be enjoying yourselves!"
Mary blushed and hung her head, but Dorn looked up manfully and
replied, with a glad ring in his voice:
"Ah, yes, sir! I cannot tell you how happy we feel! But you, sir, may
be able to know what is in the heart of a man who has been very close
to a shameful death, for a crime of which he was innocent, and who is
suddenly restored to life, and hope, and the love of the woman who is
dearer to him than all the world beside."
"Yes, my boy," responded the good-hearted judge warmly, shaking his
hand. "Yes, I do appreciate your feelings; and while congratulating
you on the fortunate end of your trial, join you most heartily in
thanking God that another has not been added to the already too long
list of melancholy proofs of the fallibility of human wisdom in the
administration of justice. But it was a providential thing for you
that Mr. Holden arrived when he did, just in the nick of time."
"Indeed it was, sir. I had ceased to hope for his coming. I would like
to see him before he goes away, to offer him my thanks."
"So you shall. Right away, if you wish." And stepping to the door the
judge called in the little elderly gentleman, who came looking as
radiant with pleasure, almost, as if it had been himself who had just
escaped the gallows.
After shaking hands with Dorn, congratulating him, and receiving his
thanks, Mr. Holden addressed himself to Mary and, with old-time
courtesy and gallantry, made her a pretty little speech of compliment.
"You young folks intend to get married, don't you?" suddenly and
bluntly asked the judge.
Mary flushed red as a peony, but smiled, and Dorn, too, felt the color
rising in his cheeks as he replied, half laughingly:
"Yes, sir, if Mary doesn't change her mind."
"How is that, Mary?" demanded the judge. "Have you any notion of
changing your mind?"
"Oh, no, sir," answered the girl timidly, and with an affectionate
glance at Dorn.
"I should think not, from the way I found you when I came in," added
the judge mischievously. "Well, you know what Franklin says, 'never
put off until to-morrow what can be done to-day.' Why not get the
business over right away, and complete the happiness of your day.
Stand right out there before me and I'll soon--"
"Oh, no, sir," exclaimed Mary, in a half-frightened way, "Please, no,
sir. I promised Ruth that we would wait for her and Lem, and we are
all to stand up together."
"Ah, indeed! Well where are your friends Ruth and her lover? They
ought to be here."
"I think they are in the court-room outside," volunteered Mr. Holden.
"At least they were there a few moments ago, when I came in here. I
have the pleasure of knowing Mr. Pawlett, and can guess the relations
between him and a very pretty little girl sitting beside him."
"You know Lem?" exclaimed Dorn.
"Yes, he hunted me up in New York, and it was at his instance that I
came here to give my testimony."
"And he didn't tell me a word about it when he came back; did not even
come to see me--left me to imagine that he had not succeeded in
finding you!"
"Ah, he followed my instructions somewhat too literally. I advised him
not to tell anybody, but I did not exactly mean that he should not
mention it to you. Still, the fault, if any exists, is mine. And it's
all right now."
"All right? Oh, sir, how can I ever sufficiently thank you and him for
what you have done?"
"You need not mind thanking me any more; and as for him, I guess he
will consider the obligation squared if you facilitate his matrimonial
projects by calling in him and his sweetheart, and carrying out the
judge's suggestion for immediate action."
"Yes, by all means," urged the judge, "call them in, and let us have a
wholesale hymenial tournament at once."
Mr. Holden looked out into the court-room, which was by this time
almost emptied. Lem and Ruth were still there, however, and sturdy Mr.
Merriwether, of New Haven, who was talking to Mr. Dunn; and three or
four loiterers near the door; and a man who sat at the prosecutor's
table, and bent over it, his head resting upon his arms.
"Come in here, Mr. Pawlett, and bring the young lady with you!" called
Mr. Holden. "And step this way, if you please, Mr. Dunn, and your
friend."
While the persons thus indicated came forward, the loiterers at the
door, seeing no chance of their being included in the invitation, went
away. When Dorn had passed through another torrent of congratulations,
the judge genially resumed the direction of affairs.
"Come!" said he. "When justice gets hold of a man, she cannot let him
go scot free, even if he is innocent. Something must be done to him.
If we can't hang him, we must at least marry him. And as you young
folks, Lemuel Pawlett and Ruth--I haven't yet been told the rest of
your name, Miss."
"Ruth Lenox, sir."
"Ruth Lenox, eh? A very pretty name--almost worthy of so pretty an
owner. Very well; as you, Lem Pawlett--and you, Ruth Lenox, have
confessedly aided and comforted Dorn Hackett in evading the fate that
a very blind justice had marked out for him, it is deemed right and
proper that you should suffer with him."
Lem and Ruth, knowing nothing of what had transpired before they
entered the room, and not half understanding the judge's rapid and
somewhat figurative language, looked very much puzzled and even a
little alarmed.
Mary led her friend to one side, and the two girls held a little
whispered consultation together, from which they returned blushing,
but apparently resigned, for each placed herself beside her lover.
Then the two couples ranged themselves in order before the judge, who,
dropping his jocose manner, and with the gravity befitting so solemn a
ceremonial as that of uniting two human lives "until death does them
part," proceeded to make the lovers husbands and wives.
Then the judge resumed his jovial mood, and claimed as his fees the
first kiss from each of the brides, and Mr. Holden and Mr. Merriwether
followed suit, and Mr. Dunn was very certain not to let himself be
forgotten when any such fun as that was going on. There was a great
deal of hand-shaking, and expression of kind thoughts and good wishes
all around. And amid all this happiness nobody noticed for some little
time that the man, whom Mr. Holden had seen bowed over the
prosecutor's table, had arisen, come forward, and was standing in the
door. A weak, trembling old man he was, with thin, deeply furrowed
face, and a sad, weary look in his eyes. It was Peter Van Deust.
"I suppose," said he, speaking in a slow, meditative way, and with a
weak, quavering voice, "that I have no right to come here as a
kill-joy among you. Love and youth were done with me long ago. The
first I drove from me, and the second left me. I can no more call back
one than the other, now. If Jacob were alive to-day, he'd be more at
home among you than I am."
He paused a moment, sighed deeply, passed a tremulous hand over his
eyes, that were full of tears, and continued:
"But I feel as if I ought to speak to you, to two of you at least,
and--beg your forgiveness. I erred, and I'm sorry. I ain't what I used
to be; my head's failing me, a little, sometimes, I guess. But they've
got the right man now, haven't they? They've got him at last! And
they'll hang him, won't they?"
His voice was becoming momentarily more shrill, and his manner more
excited. Mr. Holden took his hand with a gentle, sympathetic pressure
that seemed to recall him to himself, and in a lower tone, half-choked
by a sob, the poor old man exclaimed:
"Oh, you don't know how I miss Jacob! I didn't know how much he was to
me, how much we had grown together, until I lost him! He was so good,
so kind! Ah! If I had been more like him, people would feel for me now
more than they do. But it has taken me all my life to learn that love
is better than gold."
Sadly and slowly he turned and moved away, through the deserted
court-room and the crowded street--lonely alike in both--to his
desolate home, from which, thereafter, he was seldom seen abroad. But
the lesson that it had taken him all his life to learn, he did not
forget; for, when they laid him down by Jacob's dust--ere again the
trailing arbutus put forth its fragrant blossoms beneath the dead
leaves of the forest--and read his will, they found that he had left
all he possessed to Mary Wallace, "for the sake of the kindly love my
dear brother Jacob bore for her in memory of her mother."
What need can be to say the rest? how justice laid her heavy hand
upon profligate young Silas Thatcher, and his doom was that his
father had foretold; how Dorn entered into partnership with Mr.
Merriwether, who proved his staunch and life-long friend; how faithful
Lem Pawlett flourished, and how happy Ruth and Mary were. The interest
of our story is done. Even justice, good deeds, calm joys, and placid
lives are tame to tell.