Why, there are maidens of heroic touch,
And yet they seem like things of gossamer
You'd pinch the life out of, as out of moths.
Oh, it is not loud tones and mouthingness,
'Tis not the arms akimbo and large strides,
That make a woman's force. The tiniest birds,
With softest downy breasts, have passions in them,
And are brave with love.
Esther was so placed in the Court, under Mrs. Transome's wing, as to see
and hear everything without effort: Harold had received them at the
hotel, and had observed that Esther looked ill, and was unusually
abstracted in her manner; but this seemed to be sufficiently accounted
for by her sympathetic anxiety about the result of a trial in which the
prisoner at the bar was a friend, and in which both her father and
himself were important witnesses. Mrs. Transome had no reluctance to
keep a small secret from her son, and no betrayal was made of that
previous "engagement" of Esther's with her father. Harold was
particularly delicate and unobtrusive in his attentions to-day: he had
the consciousness that he was going to behave in a way that would
gratify Esther and win her admiration, and we are all of us made more
graceful by the inward presence of what we believe to be a generous
purpose; our actions move to a hidden music--"a melody that's sweetly
played in tune."
If Esther had been less absorbed by supreme feelings, she would have
been aware that she was an object of special notice. In the bare
squareness of a public hall, where there was not one jutting angle to
hang a guess or a thought upon, not an image or a bit of color to stir
the fancy, and where the only objects of speculation, of admiration, or
of any interest whatever were human beings, that occupied positions
indicating some importance, the notice bestowed on Esther would not have
been surprising, even if it had been merely a tribute to her youthful
charm, which was well championed by Mrs. Transome's elderly majesty. But
it was due also to whisperings that she was an hereditary claimant of
the Transome estates, whom Harold Transome was about to marry. Harold
himself had of late not cared to conceal either the fact or the
probability: they both tended rather to his honor than his dishonor. And
to-day, when there was a good proportion of Trebians present, the
whisperings spread rapidly.
The Court was still more crowded than on the previous day, when our poor
acquaintance Dredge and his two collier companions were sentenced to a
year's imprisonment with hard labor, and the more enlightened prisoner,
who stole the Debarry's plate, to transportation for life. Poor Dredge
had cried, had wished he'd "never heared of 'lection," and in spite of
sermons from the jail chaplain, fell back on the explanation that this
was a world in which Spratt and Old Nick were sure to get the best of
it; so that in Dredge's case, at least, most observers must have had the
melancholy conviction that there had been no enhancement of public
spirit and faith in progress from that wave of political agitation which
had reached the Sproxton Pits.
But curiosity was necessarily at a higher pitch to-day, when the
character of the prisoner and the circumstances of his offence were of a
highly unusual kind. Soon as Felix appeared at the bar, a murmur rose
and spread into a loud buzz, which continued until there had been
repeated authoritative calls for silence in the Court. Rather
singularly, it was now for the first time that Esther had a feeling of
pride in him on the ground simply of his appearance. At this moment,
when he was the centre of a multitudinous gaze, which seemed to act on
her own vision like a broad unmitigated daylight, she felt that there
was something pre-eminent in him, notwithstanding the vicinity of
numerous gentlemen. No apple-woman would have admired him; not only to
feminine minds like Mrs. Tiliot's, but to many minds in coat and
waistcoat, there was something dangerous and perhaps unprincipled in his
bare throat and great Gothic head; and his somewhat massive person would
doubtless have come out very oddly from the hands of a fashionable
tailor of that time. But as Esther saw his large gray eyes looking round
calmly and undefiantly, first at the audience generally, and then with a
more observant expression at the lawyers and other persons immediately
around him, she felt that he bore the outward stamp of a distinguished
nature. Forgive her if she needed this satisfaction; all of us, whether
men or women, are liable to this weakness of liking to have our
preference justified before others as well as ourselves. Esther said
inwardly, with a certain triumph, that Felix Holt looked as worthy to
be chosen in the midst of this large assembly, as he had ever looked in
their _tête-à-tête_ under the sombre light of the little parlor in
Malthouse Yard.
Esther had felt some relief in hearing from her father that Felix had
insisted on doing without his mother's presence; and since to Mrs.
Holt's imagination, notwithstanding her general desire to have her
character enquired into, there was no greatly consolatory difference
between being a witness and a criminal, and an appearance of any kind
"before the judge" could hardly be made to suggest anything definite
that would overcome the dim sense of unalleviated disgrace, she had been
less inclined than usual to complain of her son's decision. Esther had
shuddered beforehand at the inevitable farce there would be in Mrs.
Holt's testimony. But surely Felix would lose something for want of a
witness who could testify to his behavior in the morning before he
became involved in the tumult?
"He is really a fine young fellow," said Harold, coming to speak to
Esther after a colloquy with the prisoner's solicitor. "I hope he will
not make a blunder in defending himself."
"He is not likely to make a blunder," said Esther. She had recovered her
color a little, and was brighter than she had been all the morning
before.
Felix had seemed to include her in his general glance, but had avoided
looking at her particularly. She understood how delicate feeling for her
would prevent this, and that she might safely look at him, and toward
her father, whom she could see in the same direction. Turning to Harold,
to make an observation, she saw that he was looking toward the same
point, but with an expression on his face that surprised her.
"Dear me," she said, prompted to speak without any reflection; "--how
angry you look! I never saw you look so angry before. It is not my
father you are looking at?"
"Oh, no! I am angry at something I'm looking away from," said Harold,
making an effort to drive back the troublesome demon who would stare out
at window. "It's that Jermyn," he added, glancing at his mother as well
as Esther. "He will thrust himself under my eyes everywhere since I
refused him an interview and returned his letter. I'm determined never
to speak to him directly again, if I can help it."
Mrs. Transome heard with a changeless face. She had for some time been
watching, and had taken on her marble look of immobility. She said an
inward bitter "Of course!" to everything that was unpleasant.
After this Esther soon became impatient of all speech; her attention was
rivetted on the proceedings of the Court, and on the mode in which Felix
bore himself. In the case for the prosecution there was nothing more
than a reproduction, with irrelevancies added by witnesses, of the facts
already known to us. Spratt had retained consciousness enough, in the
midst of his terror, to swear that, when he was tied to the finger-post,
Felix was presiding over the actions of the mob. The landlady of the
Seven Stars, who was indebted to Felix for rescue from pursuit by some
drunken rioters, gave evidence that went to prove his assumption of
leadership prior to the assault on Spratt,--remembering only that he had
called away her pursuers to "better sport." Various respectable
witnesses swore to Felix's "encouragement" of the rioters who were
dragging Spratt in King Street; to his fatal assault on Tucker; and to
his attitude in front of the drawing-room window at the Manor.
Three other witnesses gave evidence of expressions used by the prisoner,
tending to show the character of the acts with which he was charged. Two
were Treby tradesmen, the third was a clerk from Duffield. The clerk had
heard Felix speak at Duffield; the Treby men had frequently heard him
declare himself on public matters; and they all quoted expressions which
tended to show that he had a virulent feeling against the respectable
shopkeeping class, and that nothing was likely to be more congenial to
him than the gutting of retailer's shops. No one else knew--the
witnesses themselves did not know fully--how far their strong perception
and memory on these points was due to a fourth mind, namely, that of Mr.
John Johnson, the attorney, who was nearly related to one of the Treby
witnesses, and a familiar acquaintance of the Duffield clerk. Man cannot
be defined as an evidence-giving animal; and in the difficulty of
getting up evidence on any subject, there is room for much unrecognized
action of diligent persons who have the extra stimulus of some private
motive. Mr. Johnson was present in Court to-day, but in a modest,
retired situation. He had come down to give information to Mr. Jermyn,
and to gather information in other quarters, which was well illuminated
by the appearance of Esther in company with the Transomes.
When the case for the prosecution closed, all strangers thought that it
looked very black for the prisoner. In two instances only Felix had
chosen to put a cross-examining question. The first was to ask Spratt if
he did not believe that his having been tied to the post had saved him
from a probably mortal injury? The second was to ask the tradesman who
swore to his having heard Felix tell the rioters to leave Tucker alone
and come along with him, whether he had not, shortly before, heard cries
among the mob summoning to an attack on the wine-vaults and brewery.
Esther had hitherto listened closely but calmly. She knew that there
would be this strong adverse testimony; and all her hopes and fears were
bent on what was to come beyond it. It was when the prisoner was asked
what he had to adduce in reply that she felt herself in the grasp of
that tremor which does not disable the mind, but rather gives keener
consciousness of a mind having a penalty of body attached to it.
There was a silence as of night when Felix Holt began to speak. His
voice was firm and clear: he spoke with simple gravity, and evidently
without any enjoyment of the occasion. Esther had never seen his face
look so weary.
"My Lord, I am not going to occupy the time of the Court with
unnecessary words. I believe the witnesses for the prosecution have
spoken the truth as far as a superficial observation would enable them
to do it; and I see nothing that can weigh with the jury in my favor,
unless they believe my statement of my own motives, and the testimony
that certain witnesses will give to my character and purposes as being
inconsistent with my willingly abetting disorder. I will tell the Court
in as few words as I can, how I got entangled in the mob, how I came to
attack the constable, and how I was led to take a course which seems
rather mad to myself, now I look back upon it."
Felix then gave a concise narrative of his motives and conduct on the
day of the riot, from the moment when he was startled into quitting his
work by the earlier uproar of the morning. He omitted, of course, his
visit to Malthouse Yard, and merely said that he went out to walk again
after returning to quiet his mother's mind. He got warmed by the story
of his experience, which moved him more strongly than ever, now he
recalled it in vibrating words before a large audience of his
fellow-men. The sublime delight of truthful speech to one who has the
great gift of uttering it, will make itself felt even through the pangs
of sorrow.
"That is all I have to say for myself, my Lord. I pleaded 'Not guilty'
to the charge of manslaughter, because I know that word may carry a
meaning which would not fairly apply to my act. When I threw Tucker
down, I did not see the possibility that he would die from a sort of
attack which ordinarily occurs in fighting without any fatal effect. As
to my assaulting a constable, it was a quick choice between two evils: I
should else have been disabled. And he attacked me under a mistake about
my intentions. I'm not prepared to say I never would assault a constable
where I had more chance of deliberation. I certainly should assault him
if I saw him doing anything that made my blood boil: I reverence the
law, but not where it is a pretext for wrong, which it should be the
very object of law to hinder. I consider that I should be making an
unworthy defence, if I let the Court infer from what I say myself, or
from what is said by my witnesses, that because I am a man who hates
drunken, motiveless disorder, or any wanton harm, therefore I am a man
who would never fight against authority: I hold it blasphemy to say that
a man ought not to fight against authority: there is no great religion
and no great freedom that has not done it, in the beginning. It would be
impertinent for me to speak of this now, if I did not need to say in my
own defence, that I should hold myself the worst sort of traitor if I
put my hand to either fighting or disorder--which must mean to injure
somebody--if I were not urged to it by what I hold to be sacred
feelings, making a sacred duty either to my own manhood or to my
fellow-man. And certainly," Felix ended, with a strong ring of scorn in
his voice, "I never held it a sacred duty to try and get a Radical
candidate returned for North Loamshire, by willingly heading a drunken
howling mob, whose public action must consist in breaking windows,
destroying hard-got produce, and endangering the lives of men and women.
I have no more to say, my Lord."
"I foresaw he would make a blunder," said Harold, in a low voice to
Esther. Then, seeing her shrink a little, he feared she might suspect
him of being merely stung by the allusion to himself. "I don't mean what
he said about the Radical candidate," he added, hastily, in correction.
"I don't mean the last sentence. I mean that whole peroration of his,
which he ought to have left unsaid. It has done him harm with the
jury--they won't understand it, or rather will misunderstand it. And
I'll answer for it, it has soured the judge. It remains to be seen what
we witnesses can say for him, to nullify the effect of what he has said
for himself. I hope the attorney has done his best in collecting the
evidence: I understand the expense of the witnesses is undertaken by
some Liberals at Glasgow and in Lancashire, friends of Holt's. But I
suppose your father has told you."
The first witness called to the defence was Mr. Lyon. The gist of his
statements was, that from the beginning of September last till the day
of the election he was in very frequent intercourse with the prisoner;
that he had become intimately acquainted with his character and views of
life, and his conduct with respect to the election, and that these were
totally inconsistent with any other supposition than his being involved
in the riot, and his fatal encounter with the constable, were due to the
calamitous failure of a bold but good purpose. He stated further that he
had been present when an interview had occurred in his own house between
the prisoner and Mr. Harold Transome, who was then canvassing for the
representation of North Loamshire. That the object of the prisoner in
seeking this interview had been to inform Mr. Transome of treating given
in his name to the workmen in the pits and on the canal at Sproxton, and
to remonstrate against its continuance; the prisoner fearing that
disturbance and mischief might result from what he believed to be the
end toward which this treating was directed--namely, the presence of
these men on the occasions of the nomination and polling. Several times
after this interview, Mr. Lyon said, he had heard Felix Holt recur to
the subject therein discussed with expressions of grief and anxiety. He
himself was in the habit of visiting Sproxton in his ministerial
capacity: he knew fully what the prisoner had done there in order to
found a night school, and was certain that the prisoner's interest in
the workingmen of that district turned entirely on the possibility of
converting them somewhat to habits of soberness and to a due care for
the instruction of their children. Finally, he stated that the prisoner,
in compliance with his request, had been present at Duffield on the day
of the nomination, and had on his return expressed himself with strong
indignation concerning the employment of the Sproxton men on that
occasion, and what he called the wickedness of hiring blind violence.
The quaint appearance and manner of the little Dissenting minister could
not fail to stimulate the peculiar wit of the bar. He was subjected to
a troublesome cross-examination, which he bore with wide-eyed
short-sighted quietude and absorption in the duty of truthful response.
On being asked rather sneeringly, if the prisoner was not one of his
flock? he answered, in that deeper tone which made one of the most
effective transitions of his varying voice--
"Nay--would to God he were! I should then feel that the great virtues
and the pure life I have beheld in him were a witness to the efficacy of
the faith I believe in and the discipline of the Church whereunto I
belong."
Perhaps it required a larger power of comparison than was possessed by
any of that audience to appreciate the moral elevation of an Independent
minister who could utter those words. Nevertheless there was a murmur
which was clearly one of sympathy.
The next witness, and the one on whom the interest of the spectators was
chiefly concentrated, was Harold Transome. There was a decided
predominance of Tory feeling in the Court, and the human disposition to
enjoy the infliction of a little punishment on an opposite party, was in
this instance, of a Tory complexion. Harold was keenly alive to this,
and to everything else that might prove disagreeable to him in his
having to appear in the witness-box. But he was not likely to lose his
self-possession, or to fail in adjusting himself gracefully, under
conditions which most men would find it difficult to carry without
awkwardness. He had generosity and candor enough to bear Felix Holt's
proud rejection of his advances without any petty resentment; he had all
the susceptibilities of a gentleman; and these moral qualities gave the
right direction to his acumen, in judging of the behavior that would
best secure his dignity. Everything requiring self-command was easier to
him because of Esther's presence; for her admiration was just then the
object which this well-tanned man of the world had it most at heart to
secure.
When he entered the witness-box he was much admired by the ladies
amongst the audience, many of whom sighed a little at the thought of his
wrong course in politics. He certainly looked like a handsome portrait
by Sir Thomas Lawrence, in which that remarkable artist had happily
omitted the usual excess of honeyed blandness mixed with alert
intelligence, which is hardly compatible with the state of man out of
paradise. He stood not far off Felix; and the two Radicals certainly
made a striking contrast. Felix might have come from the hands of a
sculptor in the later Roman period, when the plastic impulse was stirred
by the grandeur of barbaric forms--when rolled collars were not yet
conceived, and satin stocks were not.
Harold Transome declared he had had only one interview with the
prisoner: it was the interview referred to by the previous witness, in
whose presence and in whose house it was begun. The interview, however,
was continued beyond the observation of Mr. Lyon. The prisoner and
himself quitted the Dissenting minister's house in Malthouse Yard
together, and proceeded to the office of Mr. Jermyn, who was then
conducting electioneering business on his behalf. His object was to
comply with Holt's remonstrance by enquiring into the alleged
proceedings at Sproxton, and, if possible, to put a stop to them. Holt's
language, both in the Malthouse Yard and in the attorney's office, was
strong: he was evidently indignant, and his indignation turned on the
danger of employing ignorant men excited by drink on an occasion of
popular concourse. He believed that Holt's sole motive was the
prevention of disorder, and what he considered the demoralization of the
workmen by treating. The event had certainly justified his
remonstrances. He had not had any subsequent opportunities of observing
the prisoner; but if any reliance was to be placed on a rational
conclusion, it must, he thought, be plain that the anxiety thus
manifested by Holt was a guarantee of the statement he had made as to
his motives on the day of the riot. His entire impression from Holt's
manner in that single interview was that he was a moral and political
enthusiast, who, if he sought to coerce others, would seek to coerce
them into a difficult, and perhaps impracticable, scrupulosity.
Harold spoke with as noticeable directness and emphasis, as if what he
said could have no reaction on himself. He had of course not entered
unnecessarily into what occurred in Jermyn's office. But now he was
subjected to a cross-examination on this subject, which gave rise to
some subdued shrugs, smiles, and winks, among county gentlemen.
The questions were directed so as to bring out, if possible, some
indication that Felix Holt was moved to his remonstrance by personal
resentment against the political agents concerned in setting on foot the
treating at Sproxton, but such questioning is a sort of target-shooting
that sometimes hits about widely. The cross-examining counsel had close
connections among the Tories of Loamshire, and enjoyed his business
to-day. Under the fire of various questions about Jermyn and the agent
employed by him at Sproxton, Harold got warm, and in one of his replies
said, with rapid sharpness--
"Mr. Jermyn was my agent then, not now: I have no longer any but hostile
relations with him."
The sense that he had shown a slight heat would have vexed Harold more
if he had not got some satisfaction out of the thought that Jermyn heard
those words. He recovered his good temper quickly, and when,
subsequently, the question came--
"You acquiesced in the treating of the Sproxton men, as necessary to the
efficient working of the reformed constituency?" Harold replied, with
quiet fluency--"Yes; on my return to England, before I put up for North
Loamshire, I got the best advice from practised agents, both Whig and
Tory. They all agreed as to electioneering measures."
The next witness was Michael Brincey, otherwise Mike Brindle, who gave
evidence of the sayings and doings of the prisoner among the Sproxton
men. Mike declared that Felix went "uncommon again' drink, and
pitch-and-toss, and quarrelling, and sich," and was "all for schooling
and bringing up the little chaps"; but on being cross-examined, he
admitted that he "couldn't give much account"; that Felix did talk
again' idle folks, whether poor or rich, and that most like he meant the
rich, who had "a rights to be idle," which was what he, Mike, liked
himself sometimes, though for the most part he was "a hard-working
butty." On being checked for this superfluous allegation of his own
theory and practice, Mike became timidly conscious that answering was a
great mystery beyond the reach of a butty's soul, and began to err from
defect instead of excess. However, he reasserted that what Felix most
wanted was, "to get 'em to set up a school for the little chaps."
With the two succeeding witnesses, who swore to the fact that Felix had
tried to lead the mob along Hobb's Lane instead of toward the Manor, and
to the violently threatening character of Tucker's attack on him, the
case for the defence was understood to close.
Meanwhile Esther had been looking on and listening with growing misery,
in the sense that all had not been said which might have been said on
behalf of Felix. If it was the jury who were to be acted on, she argued
to herself, there might have been an impression made on their feelings
which would determine their verdict. Was it not constantly said and seen
that juries pronounced Guilty or Not Guilty from sympathy for or against
the accused? She was too inexperienced to check her own argument by
thoroughly representing to herself the course of things: how the counsel
for the prosecution would reply, and how the judge would sum up, with
the object of cooling down sympathy into deliberation. What she had
painfully pressing on her inward vision was that the trial was coming to
an end, and that the voice of right and truth had not been strong
enough.
When a woman feels purely and nobly, that ardor of hers which breaks
through formulas too rigorously urged on men by daily practical needs,
makes one of her most precious influences: she is the added impulse that
shatters the stiffening crust of cautious experience. Her inspired
ignorance gives a sublimity to actions so incongruously simple, that
otherwise they would make men smile. Some of that ardor which has
flashed out and illuminated all poetry and history was burning to-day in
the bosom of sweet Esther Lyon. In this, at least, her woman's lot was
perfect: that the man she loved was her hero; that her woman's passion
and her reverence for rarest goodness rushed together in an undivided
current. And to-day they were making one danger, one terror, one
irresistible impulse for her heart. Her feelings were growing into a
necessity for action, rather than a resolve to act. She could not
support the thought that the trial would come to an end, that sentence
would be passed on Felix, and that all the while something had been
omitted which might have been said for him. There had been no witness to
tell what had been his behavior and state of mind just before the riot.
She must do it. It was possible. There was time. But not too much time.
All other agitation became merged in eagerness not to let the moment
escape. The last witness was being called. Harold Transome had not been
able to get back to her on leaving the witness-box, but Mr. Lingon was
close by her. With firm quickness she said to him--
"Pray tell the attorney that I have evidence to give for the
prisoner--lose no time."
"Do you know what you are going to say, my dear?" said Mr. Lingon,
looking at her in astonishment.
"Yes--I entreat you, for God's sake," said Esther, in that low tone of
urgent beseeching which is equivalent to a cry; and with a look of
appeal more penetrating still, "I would rather die than not do it."
The old rector, always leaning to the good-natured view of things, felt
chiefly that there seemed to be an additional chance for the poor fellow
who had got himself into trouble. He disputed no farther, but went to
the attorney.
Before Harold was aware of Esther's intention she was on her way to the
witness-box. When she appeared there, it was as if a vibration, quick as
light, had gone through the Court and had shaken Felix himself, who had
hitherto seemed impassive. A sort of a gleam seemed to shoot across his
face, and any one close to him would have seen that his hand, which lay
on the edge of the dock, trembled.
At the first moment Harold was startled and alarmed; the next, he felt
delight in Esther's beautiful aspect, and in the admiration of the
Court. There was no blush on her face: she stood, divested of all
personal considerations whether of vanity or shyness. Her clear voice
sounded as it might have done if she had been making a confession of
faith. She began and went on without query or interruption. Every face
looked grave and respectful.
"I am Esther Lyon, the daughter of Mr. Lyon, the Independent minister at
Treby, who has been one of the witnesses for the prisoner. I know Felix
Holt well. On the day of the election at Treby, when I had been much
alarmed by the noises that reached me from the main street, Felix Holt
came to call upon me. He knew that my father was away, and he thought
that I should be alarmed by the sounds of disturbance. It was about the
middle of the day, and he came to tell me that the disturbance was
quieted, and that the streets were nearly emptied. But he said he feared
that the men would collect again after drinking, and that something
worse might happen later in the day. And he was in much sadness at this
thought. He stayed a little while, and then he left me. He was very
melancholy. His mind was full of great resolutions that came from his
kind feeling toward others. It was the last thing he would have done to
join in riot or to hurt any man, if he could have helped it. His nature
is very noble; he is tender-hearted; he could never have had any
intention that was not brave and good."
There was something so naive and beautiful in this action of Esther's,
that it conquered every low or petty suggestion even in the commonest
minds. The three men in that assembly who knew her best--even her father
and Felix Holt--felt a thrill of surprise mingling with their
admiration. This bright, delicate, beautiful-shaped thing that seemed
most like a toy or ornament--some hand had touched the chords, and there
came forth music that brought tears. Half a year before, Esther's dread
of being ridiculous spread over the surface of her life; but the depth
below was sleeping.
Harold Transome was ready to give her his hand and lead her back to her
place. When she was there, Felix, for the first time, could not help
looking toward her, and their eyes met in one solemn glance.
Afterward Esther found herself unable to listen so as to form any
judgment on what she heard. The acting out of that strong impulse had
exhausted every energy. There was a brief pause, filled with a murmur, a
buzz, and much coughing. The audience generally felt as if dull weather
was setting in again. And under those auspices the counsel for the
prosecution got up to make his reply. Esther's deed had its effect
beyond the momentary one, but the effect was not visible in the rigid
necessities of legal procedure. The counsel's duty of restoring all
unfavorable facts to due prominence in the minds of the jurors, had its
effect altogether reinforced by the summing-up of the judge. Even the
bare discernment of facts, much more their arrangement with a view to
inferences, must carry a bias: human impartiality, whether judicial or
not, can hardly escape being more or less loaded. It was not that the
judge had severe intentions; it was only that he saw with severity. The
conduct of Felix was not such as inclined him to indulgent
consideration, and, in his directions to the jury, that mental attitude
necessarily told on the light in which he placed the homicide. Even to
many in the Court who were not constrained by judicial duty, it seemed
that though this high regard felt for the prisoner by his friends, and
especially by a generous-hearted woman, was very pretty, such conduct as
his was not the less dangerous and foolish, and assaulting and killing a
constable was not the less an offence to be regarded without leniency.
Esther seemed now so tremulous, and looked so ill, that Harold begged
her to leave the Court with his mother and Mr. Lingon. He would come and
tell her the issue. But she said, quietly, that she would rather stay;
she was only a little overcome by the exertion of speaking. She was
inwardly resolved to see Felix to the last moment before he left the
Court.
Though she could not follow the address of the counsel or the judge, she
had a keen ear for what was brief and decisive. She heard the verdict,
"Guilty of manslaughter." And every word uttered by the judge in
pronouncing sentence fell upon her like an unforgetable sound that would
come back in dreaming and in waking. She had her eyes on Felix, and at
the words, "Imprisonment for four years," she saw his lip tremble. But
otherwise he stood firm and calm.
Esther gave a start from her seat. Her heart swelled with a horrible
sensation of pain; but, alarmed lest she should lose her self-command,
she grasped Mrs. Transome's hand, getting some strength from that human
contact.
Esther saw that Felix had turned. She could no longer see his face.
"Yes," she said, drawing down her veil, "let us go."