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THE WAYS OF THE HOUR
“Well, how do you find her spirits to – day, Mr. Wilming-
ton?” asked Mrs. Gott, kindly, and catching the conventional
sound of the young man’s name, from having heard it so often
in the mouth of Michael Millington. “It is an awful state for
any human being to be in, and she a young, delicate woman;
to be tried for murder, and for setting fire to a house, and all
so soon!”
“The most extraordinary part of this very extraordinary
business, Mrs. Gott,” Jack replied, “is the perfect indifference
of Miss Monson to her fearful jeopardy! To me, she seems much
more anxious to be closely immured in gaol, than to escape
from a trial that one would think, of itself, might prove more
than so delicate a young lady could bear up against.”
“Very true, Mr. Wilmington; and she never seems to think
of it at all! You see what she has done, sir?” “Done! Nothing in
particular, I hope?”
“I don’t know what you call particular; but to me it does
seem to be remarkably particular. Didn’t you hear a piano, and
another musical instrument, as you approached the gaol?”
“I did, certainly, and wondered who could produce such
admirable music in Biberry.”
“Biberry has a great many musical ladies, I can tell you,
Mr. Wilmington,” returned Mrs. Gott, a little coldly, though
her good – nature instantly returned, and shone out in one
of her most friendly smiles; “and those, too, that have been
to town, and heard all the great performers from Europe, of
whom there have been so many of late years. I have heard good
judges say that Duke’s county is not much behind the Island of
Manhattan with the piano in particular.”
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
“I remember, when at Rome, to have heard an Englishman
say that some young ladies from Lincolnshire were astonishing the Romans with their Italian accent, in singing Italian
operas,” answered Jack, smiling. “There is no end, my dear Mrs.
Gott, to provincial perfection in all parts of the world.”
“I believe I understand you, but I am not at all offended at
your meaning. We are not very sensitive about the gaols. One
thing I will admit, however; Mary Monson’s harp is the first,
I rather think, that was ever heard in Biberry. Gott tells me”
this was the familiar manner in which the good woman spoke
of the high sheriff of Duke’s, as the journals affectedly call that
functionary “that he once met some German girls strolling
about the county, playing and singing for money, and who had
just such an instrument, but not one – half as elegant; and it
has brought to my mind a suspicion that Mary Monson may be
one of these travelling musicians.”
“What? to stroll about the country, and play and sing in
the streets of villages!”
“No, not that; I see well enough she cannot be of that sort.
But, there are all descriptions of musicians, as well as all descriptions of doctors and lawyers, Mr. Wilmington. Why may
not Mary Monson be one of these foreigners who get so rich by
singing and playing? She has just as much money as she wants,
and spends it freely too. This I know, from seeing the manner
in which she uses it. For my part, I wish she had less music and
less money just now; for they are doing her no great good in
Biberry!”
“Why not? Can any human being find fault with melody
and a liberal spirit?”
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THE WAYS OF THE HOUR
“Folks will find fault with anything, Mr. Wilmington, when
they have nothing better to do. You know how it is with our
villagers here, as well as I do. Most people think Mary Monson
guilty, and a few do not. Those that think her guilty say it is
insolent in her to be singing and playing in the very gaol in
which she is confined; and talk loud against her for that very
reason.”
“Would they deprive her of a consolation as innocent as
that she obtains from her harp and her piano, in addition to
her other sufferings! Your Biberry folk must be particularly
hard – hearted, Mrs. Gott.”
“Biberry people are like York people, and American people,
and English people, and all other people, I fancy, if the truth
was known, Mr. Wilmington. What they don’t like they disapprove of, that’s all. Now, was I one of them that believe Mary
Monson did actually murder the Goodwins, and plunder their
drawers, and set fire to their house, it would go ag’in my feel-
ings too, to hear her music, well as she plays, and sweet as she
draws out the sounds from those wires. Some of our folks take
the introduction of the harp into the gaol particularly hard!”
“Why that instrument more than another? It was the one
on which David played.”
“They say it was David’s favourite, and ought only to be
struck to religious words and sounds.”
“It is a little surprising that your excessively conscientious
people so often forget that charity is the chiefest of all the
Christian graces.”
“They think that the love of God comes first, and that they
ought never to lose sight of his honour and glory. But I agree
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
with you, Mr. Wilmington; `feel for your fellow – creatures’ is
my rule; and I’m certain I am then feeling for my Maker. Yes;
many of the neighbours insist that a harp is unsuited to a gaol,
and they tell me that the instrument on which Mary Monson
plays is a real antique.”
“Antique! What, a harp made in remote ages?”
“No, I don’t mean that exactly,” returned Mrs. Gott, colour-
ing a little; “but a harp made so much like those used by the
Psalmist, that one could not tell them apart.”
“I dare say David had many varieties of stringed instru-
ments, from the lute up; but harps are very common, Mrs.
Gott so common that we hear them now in the streets, and
on board the steamboats even. There is nothing new in them,
even in this country.”
“Yes, sir, in the streets and on board the boats; but the pub-
lic will tolerate things done for them, that they won’t tolerate
in individuals. I suppose you know that, Mr. Wilmington?”
“We soon learn as much in this country but the gaols are
made for the public, and the harps ought to be privileged in
them, as well as in other public places.”
“I don’t know how it is I’m not very good at reasoning but,
somehow or another, the neighbours don’t like that Mary
Monson should play on the harp; or even on the piano, situated as she is. I do wish, Mr. Wilmington, you could give her a
hint on the subject?”
“Shall I tell her that the music is unpleasant to you?”
“As far from that as possible! I delight in it; but the neigh-
bours do not. Then she never shows herself at the grate, to
folks outside, like all the other prisoners. The public wants to
see and to converse with her.” “You surely could not expect a
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THE WAYS OF THE HOUR
young and educated female to be making a spectacle of herself,
for the gratification of the eyes of all the vulgar and curious in
and about Biberry!”
“Hush Mr. Wilmington, you are most too young to take
care of such a cause. ‘Squire Timms, now, is a man who understands Duke’s county, and he would tell you it is not wise
to talk of the vulgar hereabouts; at least not until the verdict
is in. Besides, most people would think that folks have a right
to look at a prisoner in the common gaol. I know they act as if
they thought so.”
“It is hard enough to be accused and confined, without
subjecting the party to any additional degradation. No man
has a right to ask to look at Miss Monson, but those she sees fit
to receive, and the officials of the law. It would be an outrage
to tolerate mere idle curiosity.”
“Well, if you think so, Mr. Wilmington, do not let every-
body know it. Several of the clergy have either been here, or
have sent to offer their visits, if acceptable.”
“And what has been the answer?” demanded Jack, a little
eagerly.
“Mary Monson has received all these offers as if she had
been a queen! politely, but coldly; once or twice, or when the
Methodist and the Baptist came, and they commonly come
first, I thought she seemed hurt. Her colour went and came
like lightning. Now, she was pale as death next, as bright as a
rose what a colour she has at times, Mr. Wilmington! Duke’s
is rather celebrated for rosy faces; but it would be hard to find
her equal when she is not thinking.”
“Of what, my good Mrs. Gott?”
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
“Why, most of the neighbours say, of the Goodwins. For
my part, as I do not believe she ever hurt a hair of the head
of the old man and old woman, I can imagine that she has
disagreeable things to think of that are in nowise connected
with them.”
“She certainly has disagreeable things to make her cheeks
pale that are connected with that unfortunate couple. But, I
ought to know all: To what else do the neighbours object?”
“To the foreign tongues they think when a grand jury has
found a bill, the accused ought to talk nothing but plain English, so that all near her can understand what she says.”
“In a word, it is not thought sufficient to be accused of such
a crime as murder, but all other visitations must follow, to render the charge as horrible as may be!”
“That is not the way they look at it. The public fancies
that in a public matter they have a right to know all about a
thing.”
“And when there is a failure in the proof, they imagine,
invent, and assert.”
“’Tis the ways of the land. I suppose all nations have their
ways, and follow them.”
“One thing surprises me a little in this matter,” Jack re-
joined, after musing a moment; “it is this. In most cases in
which women have any connection with the law, the leaning
in this country, and more particularly of late, has been in their
favour.”
“Well,” Mrs. Gott quietly but quickly interrupted, “and
ought it not to be so?”
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THE WAYS OF THE HOUR
“It ought not, unless the merits are with them. Justice is
intended to do that which is equitable; and it is not fair to assume that women are always right, and men always wrong. I
know my uncle thinks that not only the decisions of late years,
but the laws, have lost sight of the wisdom of the past, and are
gradually placing the women above the men, making her in-
stead of him the head of the family.”
“Well, Mr. Wilmington, and isn’t that quite right?” de-
manded Mrs. Gott, with a good – natured nod.
“My uncle thinks it very wrong, and that by a mistaken
gallantry the peace of families is undermined, and their discipline destroyed; as, in punishment, by a false philanthropy,
rogues are petted at the expense of honest folk. Such are the
opinions of Mr. Thomas Dunscomb, at least.”
“Ay, Mr. Thomas Dunscomb is an old bachelor; and bach-
elors’ wives, and bachelors’ children, as we well know, are always admirably managed. It is a pity they are not more numerous,” retorted the indomitably good – humoured wife of the
sheriff. “But, you see that, in this case of Mary Monson, the
feeling is against, rather than in favour of a woman. That may
be owing to the fact that one of the persons murdered was a
lady also.”
“Dr. McBrain says that both were femalesor lady – mur-
dered as I suppose we must call them; as doubtless you have
heard, Mrs. Gott. Perhaps he is believed, and the fact may make
doubly against the accused.”
“He is not believed. Everybody hereabouts knows, that one
of the skeletons was that of Peter Goodwin. They say that the
District Attorney means to show that, beyond all dispute. They
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
tell me that it is a law, in a case of this sort, first to show there
has been a murder; second, to show who did it.”
“This is something like the course of proceeding, I believe;
though I never sat on a trial for this offence. It is of no great
moment what the district attorney does, so that he do not
prove that Miss Monson is guilty; and this, my kind – hearted
Mrs. Gott, you and I do not believe he can do.”
“In that we are agreed, sir. I no more think that Mary Mon-
son did these things, than I think I did them myself.” Jack expressed his thanks in a most grateful look, and there the interview terminated
188
CHAPTER X
“In peace, Love tunes the shepherd’s
reed; In war he mounts the warrior’s
steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In
hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the
grove, And men below, and saints above;
For love is heaven, and heaven is
love.”
Scott.
“It is the ways of the land,” said good Mrs. Gott, in one of
her remarks in the conversation just related. Other usages prevail, in connection with other interests; and the time is come
when we must refer to one of them. In a word, Dr. McBrain
and Mrs. Updyke were about to be united in the bands of matrimony. As yet we have said very little of the intended bride;
but the incidents of our tale render it now necessary to bring
her more prominently on the stage, and to give some account
of herself and family.
Anne Wade was the only child of very respectable and
somewhat affluent parents. At nineteen she married a lawyer
of suitable years, and became Mrs. Updyke. This union lasted
but eight years, when the wife was left a widow with two chil-
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
dren; a son and a daughter. In the course of time these children
grew up, the mother devoting herself to their care, education
and well – being. In all this there was nothing remarkable,
widowed mothers doing as much daily, with a self – devotion
that allies them to the angels. Frank Updyke, the son, had finished his education, and was daily expected to arrive from a
tour of three years in Europe. Anne, her mother’s namesake,
was at the sweet age of nineteen, and the very counterpart
of what the elder Anne had been at the same period in life.
The intended bride was far from being unattractive, though
fully five – and – forty. In the eyes of Dr. McBrain, she was
even charming; although she did not exactly answer those celebrated conditions of female influence that have been handed
down to us in the familiar toast of a voluptuous English prince.
Though forty, Mrs. Updyke was neither `fat’ nor `fair;’ being a
brunette of a well – preserved and still agreeable person.
It was perhaps a little singular, after having escaped the
temptations of a widowhood of twenty years, that this lady
should think of marrying at a time of life when most females
abandon the expectation of changing their condition. But Mrs.
Updyke was a person of a very warm heart; and she foresaw
the day when she was to be left alone in the world. Her son
was much inclined to be a rover; and, in his letters, he talked
of still longer journeys, and of more protracted absences from
home. He inherited an independency from his father, and had
now been his own master for several years. Anna was much
courted by the circle to which she belonged; and young, affluent, pretty to the very verge of beauty, gentle, quiet, and singularly warm – hearted, it was scarcely within the bounds of
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