GUILTY, OR NOT GUILTY?
There are three astonishing things in this world; I presume there may
be many more, but there certainly are _three_. First of all, it is
astonishing how fast evil tidings will travel. Ray Branford was not
arrested until Saturday evening, and it was well on toward midnight
when he was locked up in the Afton jail; yet by far the greater portion
of the citizens of that thriving town knew of his arrest, and were
discussing it, when at their Sunday morning breakfast tables.
Then it is astonishing how ready the average human mind is to accept
_all_ evil tidings, and _especially_ those that are injurious to one's
character, as the unvarnished truth. There were probably not a half
dozen families in the town that morning which had heard of the arrest,
whose members did not believe the boy to be guilty. Some who had been
bitterly opposed to the reception of the lad into the membership of
the First Church, now came forward with that old saw, which has been
repeated from time immemorial, and I presume will be repeated so long
as human judgment is imperfect, "I told you so." Then others, who had
felt that the boy must be received, and yet in heart had regarded him
as scarcely worthy of it, now shook their heads sagely, and said: "It
has turned out about as we expected." While others, who had really
believed in the boy's conversion, and had watched his progress with
pleasure, now sadly remarked: "How we were deceived in him!" Yea, some
who had only the Friday evening before at the prayer meeting listened
to that boy's prayer, and had been so moved by it as to comment upon
his growth in grace, now suddenly reversed their opinion, asking, "How
could that boy have prayed like that, and then have gone right out
from that prayer room to help rob that store? He must be a hardened
wretch, after all." Among them all hardly one was found who asked:
"Is he guilty?" All unhesitatingly, and that, too, upon the slightest
circumstantial evidence, pronounced him guilty of the crime for which
he had been arrested. I do not attempt to account for the fact; I only
know it existed.
Then another astonishing fact is how slight a circumstance, if it
is only sensational, will draw a large congregation. Some of the
First Church people had arisen that morning with a determination to
stay at home from the church services--it was so extremely warm and
uncomfortable. But when they learned of the arrest, they recalled
the fact that Mr. Carleton had had an unbounded confidence in the
imprisoned lad.
"I wonder if he will make any allusion to this event in the services
to-day?" each thought. "Really I must go and see." Then there was an
unusual hurrying around, and, when the bell tolled for the service, out
from mansion and cottage a vast throng poured into the streets, and
hurried off toward the First Church.
Nor was it simply the First Church people that gathered there that
morning. In every church there is a part of the congregation that has
itching ears. These remembered the intimate relation the First Church
pastor had held with the arrested lad; and it happened, therefore, that
a goodly number from every church in the town deserted their usual
church homes that morning, and ran off to the First Church, just to
hear what its pastor would have to say respecting this most remarkable
circumstance.
So, when Mr. Carleton entered his pulpit, he found himself face to face
with a congregation that filled the large house to its utmost capacity;
nor could he account for it, since he, poor man! had not even heard of
Ray's arrest.
The services moved on in their regular order without the slightest
circumstance to gratify the curiosity of the expectant throng until
Mr. Carleton announced his text; then each one glanced at his nearest
neighbor significantly, and settled himself as comfortably in his seat
as possible to hear what he felt sure would follow.
Poor Mr. Carleton saw their glances, and for the life of him could not
account for them. Was his necktie awry? Had he forgotten his cuffs? Or,
had he quoted his text wrongly? He glanced quickly at his wrists--no;
his cuffs were on. He raised his hand quickly to his collar--no; his
tie was in its place. It must be then he had misquoted his text. So,
louder and more distinctly, he repeated it: "I have sinned in that I
have betrayed innocent blood." Again those meaning glances and the same
settling back in the pews with an expectant air. This repetition of the
text promised well, and the dullest ear in that house was now alert.
Mr. Carleton proceeded with his sermon, but the unusual attitude of his
congregation had in a measure disconcerted him, and he hardly spoke
with his accustomed freedom; while a tremulousness, of which he was
absolutely unconscious, was detected in his tones by his attentive
hearers.
They all felt sure, then, as he stated Judas' sin to be that of
avarice, and went on to show how through his slight pilferings from
the bag he bore the sin had grown upon him until he was even ready to
betray his Lord for his own gain, that he had in mind the arrested boy,
and that he, with them, was now ready to pronounce him guilty.
"An able discourse, and so appropriate to the occasion!" "How
delicately, and yet how pointedly, he alluded to that boy's sin!" and
similar comments were heard on all sides, as the vast congregation
left the house.
But Mr. Carleton, ignorant of the fact that he had been encouraging his
people to commit that most despicable of sins, the speaking evil of one
another, came down from the desk, and, meeting Mr. Bacon, shook hands
with him, remarking, pleasantly:
"We had a large congregation to-day, Brother Bacon."
"Yes; and judging by your sermon, pastor, you evidently know the cause
of it."
"My sermon! The cause of it! I don't understand you, Brother Bacon!"
Mr. Carleton exclaimed, in his bewilderment.
"Why, didn't you know Ray Branford is now in the lockup, arrested for
the burglary of Friday night?" asked Mr. Bacon, in his turn surprised.
"I certainly did not," his pastor answered. "I saw he was not here, as
usual, but had no idea of the cause. Unwittingly, then, I have given my
people the impression that I believe he is guilty."
"The most of them came here already believing him guilty, I fear,"
replied Mr. Bacon; "and of course your sermon would seem to them to
indicate that you held the same opinion."
"What do _you_ think?" asked Mr. Carleton, quickly.
"That I will not condemn the boy untried and unconvicted," gravely
answered Mr. Bacon.
Mr. Carleton shook hands with him again warmly, and then he said:
"Immediately after dinner I will go over to the lockup to see the
boy. He must sadly stand in need of friends now. Will you go with me,
Brother Bacon?"
"Yes. Stop as you pass the house, and I'll be ready," was the hearty
reply.
One other there was who had not heard of Ray's arrest. It was his
teacher, Miss Squire. Detained at home from the morning preaching
service by her mother's sudden illness, she came hastily into the
Sunday-school, ignorant of the whole sad affair. Looking around on her
boys, and noticing Ray's absence from the class for the first time
since the memorable Sunday more than a year ago, when he had first
become a scholar, she asked, innocently:
"Do any of you know why Ray is not here to-day? Was he at church?"
The boys looked curiously at each other, and then one of them answered:
"No, ma'am; I rather guess he wasn't; for he's in the lockup, arrested
for robbing Shephard's store Friday night."
Miss Squire did not answer a word, but looked steadily at her boys for
a few minutes, as though she would read their souls; then, with a sigh,
she took up the lesson for the day. But as soon as the school closed
she went directly to her pastor, and, with tears in her eyes, she
asked:
"You have heard about poor Ray?"
"Yes," he briefly replied, and looked sadly down into her upturned
face: Then suddenly, as if reading there something he longed to see, he
added:
"But you at least do not regard him as guilty, neither does Mr. Bacon;
and we shall go down to see him directly after dinner."
"Would it be out of place for me to take father with me and visit him
also?" she asked.
"No; to my mind it would be a Christ-like thing to do," he gladly
replied. "I was in prison, and ye visited me," he added, softly. She
nodded, too overcome to reply in words, and then hastened home to
prepare for her visit.
It had been a long morning to Ray. There was no window in his cell,
and the feeble light that reached him came struggling in through a
window at the farther end of the corridor. He could not see well enough
to read his Bible, but he heard the church bells, when they rang for
service; and as he thought of the sermon he could not hear, and the
school he could not attend, he determined to have a service of his own.
He first sang, in a low tone, the hymn, "Nearer, my God, to thee"; then
he repeated all the promises he could recall from God's word. After
that he repeated every verse of Scripture that he knew with either the
word "faith," or "grace," or "peace" in it. He was glad now that he
had made a daily habit of learning at least one verse from the sacred
word, and he was surprised at the number of verses he could recall.
Finally, he knelt by his iron bedstead and offered up his prayer unto
God. This service greatly cheered and comforted him; for Christ himself
drew near and spoke, in the words he had recalled, directly to his
heart.
While eating his scanty dinner, he wondered if Mr. Carleton or Miss
Squire had heard of his arrest, and if they would visit him in his
prison cell. He was confident they and some others of the First Church
people would believe he was innocent of the crime with which he was
charged; but he was not prepared for the throng of visitors who soon
began to pour in upon him.
His first caller was Mr. Jacob Woodhull. He had come up to the
preaching service and Sunday-school as usual, but was well back on his
way home before he learned from an acquaintance, who overtook him, of
Ray's imprisonment. He immediately turned around and retraced his steps
to the village, and before the boy was through eating was shown to the
door of the cell.
He listened attentively to Ray's account of the sad affair, and then
questioned him closely as to the loss of his coat and his sleeping on
board the sloop. The old gentleman, though odd, was, nevertheless, keen
and shrewd, and he soon said:
"There are but two points to clear up, and your innocence is
established beyond question. I have an idea this will not be so hard
as it now seems. Anyway, we will do all we can. I will be on hand
to-morrow morning when you are examined; and just trust God, Ray! just
trust him!"
He left the station house and went directly to the telegraph office,
and was fortunate enough to find the operator still in. "It is lawful
to do good on the Sabbath day," he said to himself, and then sent
two messages to a neighboring city--one was directed to a lawyer of
well-known legal reputation, the other to the most expert detective on
the city's police force--and both read the same: "Come here on first
train to-morrow." His interest in Ray was again manifesting itself in a
most practical form.
He had scarcely left the jail when Mr. Carleton and Mr. Bacon were
announced. They shook hands with Ray through the iron grating of his
cell, and their hearty expression of faith in him brought hope and
gladness to his heart. After talking long and earnestly with him
concerning the circumstances of his arrest, they, too, bade him be
of good cheer, and then departed--Mr. Carleton going to the chief of
police to see if he could not secure more comfortable quarters for the
boy, while Mr. Bacon, in utter ignorance of what Jacob Woodhull had
done, went after the telegraph operator to send messages to the very
same lawyer and detective to whom that gentleman's message had already
gone. He learned from the operator that these messages had been sent,
but believing it would give additional emphasis to the coming of those
gentlemen, he had his own messages forwarded also.
Mr. Carleton met with a very cold reception from the chief of police,
who plainly told the minister he was meddling with what did not
concern him, and that young Branford should stay where he was, even
if all Afton should beg for his release. Indignant at his treatment,
Mr. Carleton started for home; but before he turned off from the main
street, he saw Dr. Gasque driving toward him. He stopped the doctor,
and found that he, having been out of the village all night attending a
very sick patient, had not even heard of the arrest. Quickly explaining
the circumstances under which it had occurred, Mr. Carleton told of
his visit to the chief of police, and the manner of his reception. Dr.
Gasque expressed his indignation in no gentle terms, and then added: "I
have a patient to attend to first, then I will go around to the station
house and see what can be done for Ray. I promise you he shall have
more comfortable quarters for the night." As Dr. Gasque was president
of the town board of officers, and held in his hands the power to even
dismiss the chief of police, Mr. Carleton knew the promise was not
vainly made.
Meantime, other callers had come and gone at that cell door. This time
it was Miss Squire and her father. She had gone home from Sunday-school
scarcely knowing how she could persuade her father to accompany her to
the jail; for he was at times crusty and irascible, and her mother's
sudden illness had put him out of sorts with himself and everybody
else. He cared, moreover, little or nothing for religious matters,
and no appeal to him from the Christian side would have the slightest
weight with him. But she remembered that a striking characteristic of
his was to radically oppose whatever others approved. Because others
maintained the earth was round, he stoutly persisted it was flat;
because others said the national colors were red, white, and blue, he
declared all were color blind but himself, for they were red, white,
and green. She hoped, therefore, by showing him that the majority of
the First Church people believed Ray was guilty, he would strenuously
maintain he was innocent; and if he only once assumed this position, no
stone would be left unturned by him to secure the boy's acquittal if it
could honorably be done.
As though it was a mere matter of news she alluded to Ray's arrest, and
the sudden change in the attitude of many who had called themselves his
friends. Before she was half done her father brought his fist down upon
a small stand near him with a force that overturned it, demolishing a
rare vase that stood upon it. "Look here, Ettie," he cried, "that boy
is innocent; any fool can see that. Ring the bell for dinner, and tell
James to have the carriage at the door the moment we are done, or I'll
discharge him. I am going right down to the station house to let the
lad know he has one friend in Burton Squire, even if all others forsake
him. Did you say that Carleton believed in his innocence, and Bacon,
too; well, they are the only sensible men in the whole town. I'll go
to hear Carleton preach next Sunday if I have to be carried into the
church. And, see here, Ettie; you get ready to go with me; it's a pity
if that boy's teacher cannot show him what she thinks of him. You'll
find an old heathen like myself knows enough to visit a man when he's
in prison, and feed him, and clothe him, too, if it's necessary."
So, soon after Mr. Carleton had left the office of the chief of police,
that worthy official saw to his dismay the carriage of the rich and
influential Burton Squire roll up to the station-house door. "Can it be
possible he has come to see that boy?" he asked of one of his men who
stood near him.
"I guess so," the man answered, with a grin; "all Afton is against the
youngster, so far as I can hear, and that is enough to make the general
take up for him; but my! if he takes a notion to have that boy removed
from that cell, won't there be music here?" And the chief thought so
a half hour later, when the angry man hobbled into his presence, and
demanded that the boy be put in a better room at once, or he would know
the reason why. General Squire's haughty and commanding tones aroused
the anger of the officer, and he flatly refused his request. So fully
was the chief's attention taken up with the tirade of abuse that the
general now poured down upon him, that he did not notice that another
carriage had driven to the jail door, and that a gentleman getting out
of it had come hastily into the room.
"General Squire," the new-comer said, "there is no need of such
language as this. Captain Gardiner, release that boy from that cell at
once, and send an officer with him up to my house; he will stop there
to-night, of course under guard of the officer. To-morrow you will
account to our board for your want of courtesy to Mr. Carleton, and to
the general. We have felt for some time that a change in our police
force was necessary."
The speaker was Dr. Gasque, and it is needless to add that his request
was immediately complied with.
Mr. Carleton, on his arrival home, learned that a lady was waiting to
see him. He found, on entering the parlor, that it was Betsy Branford,
Ray's sister-in-law. First apologizing for her call at that time, she
with some fear and trembling gave him a revelation that filled him
with astonishment, and led him to say: "This is most important, and
absolutely clears the boy, and I think we can manage it, too, without
your appearing on the witness stand at all; so have no fear." Then,
at the close of the evening service, he had still another caller, a
boy who brought with him a large bundle. When he departed he left the
bundle behind, and Mr. Carleton hastened in, and said to his wife, who
had already retired: "Well, Mary, one of the darkest facts against Ray,
that of the missing coat, is all clear. Now let us find a way to clear
up the other--his sleeping on his boat while those men were carrying
on their robbery almost above his head--and then he is completely
exonerated. I am not sure but God has sent this arrest to teach the
people of Afton a lesson they will never forget."
At nine o'clock the next morning, Ray was brought before the police
court for examination. He could not feel that he was alone, however,
for Mr. George Woodhull, and Mr. Jacob Woodhull, Mr. Bacon, Mr.
Carleton, Dr. Gasque, General Squire, Deacon Blake, and a half dozen
more, were gathered around him as friends and well-wishers. Beside him,
too, as counsel, sat the Hon. Benjamin H. Eaton, one of the leading
lawyers of the State, and the presence of this gentleman so overawed
the little lawyer who acted as prosecuting attorney, and even the
police judge himself, that those worthy functionaries could scarcely
attend properly to their official duties. Of course, the court room was
crowded with interested spectators, but if they had expected the trial
to proceed that morning they were disappointed; for as soon as Ray had
plead not guilty to the indictment read to him, Mr. Eaton arose, and
asked that the case be postponed until Wednesday morning.
"Your honor," he said, "I have been in town but a half hour, and have
had no time to consult with my client. Several important facts have
already come to light, several more are under proper investigation;
by Wednesday morning we shall be able to present our case in a way
entirely creditable to my client. I request, therefore, that he be
permitted to give bonds for his appearance at that time, and the court
now adjourn."
The request was immediately granted, and bail was fixed at one thousand
dollars for the prisoner. A half dozen gentlemen offered themselves as
bondsmen, any one of whom would have been more than sufficient for that
amount. Evidently the tide was turning, and sympathy was setting in in
favor of the lad.
"Come, Ray," said Mr. George Woodhull, after the bond had been
completed, "we'll now go home; mother and wife and children made me
promise to bring you home with me."
But Mr. Carleton interposed. Drawing Mr. Woodhull one side, he said
something to him which caused him to give the first hearty laugh he had
given since Ray's arrest, and to immediately say: "Of course, it will
be best for the boy under those circumstances to stay with you, but
the women folks and the children will be woefully disappointed."
"Well, we will compromise the matter," said Mr. Carleton; "I'll drive
down with him to-morrow and take dinner with you." And Mr. Woodhull,
accepting the offer, drove away home.
Mr. Carleton, with Ray by his side, left the court room, and walked up
town. He took care to call at a number of the stores on the way, and by
his words and his acts to show all he met that he regarded Ray as in
every way worthy of his attention and respect. As he and the lad turned
on to Prospect Avenue, Mrs. Grundy passed them in her carriage, and
looking them coldly in the face refused to acknowledge Mr. Carleton's
stately bow. "I will let even my pastor know that I in no way approve
of his association with criminals," she said, "and at the next church
meeting we will ask for letters to the Central Church."
But before the week was out she changed her mind; yes, even she, the
fashionable Mrs. Grundy, was glad to call on her pastor and apologize
for that morning's discourtesy, and nothing more was ever heard about
her changing her church relations.