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THE WAYS OF THE HOUR
The widow Pope was on the spot, and ready and willing
to answer. She removed her bonnet, took the oath, and was
shown to the seat with which it is usual to accommodate persons of her sex. “Your name,” said Dunscomb, holding his pen
over the paper.
“Pope Jane Pope since my marriage; but Jane Anderson
from my parents.”
Dunscomb listened politely, but recorded no more than
the appellation of the widow. Mrs. Pope now proceeded to tell
her story, which she did reasonably well, though not without
a good deal of unnecessary amplitude, and some slight contradictions. It was her intention, also, to tell nothing but the
truth; but persons whose tongues move as nimbly as that of
this woman’s, do not always know exactly what they do say.
Dunscomb detected the contradictions; but he had the tact to
see their cause, saw that they were not material, and wisely
abstained from confounding whatever of justice there was in
the defenee with points that the jury had probably sufficient
sagacity to see were of no great moment. He made no note,
therefore, of these little oversights, and allowed the woman to
tell her whole story uninterrupted. When it came to his turn
to cross – examine, however, the duty of so doing was not neglected.
“You say, Mrs. Pope, that you had often seen the stocking
in which Mrs. Goodwin kept her gold. Of what material was
that stocking?”
“Woolyes, of blue woollen yarn. A stocking knit by hand,
and very darny.” “Should you know the stocking, Mrs. Pope,
were you to see it again?”
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
“I think I might. Dolly Goodwin and I looked over the gold
together more than once; and the stocking got to be a sort of
acquaintance.”
“Was this it?” continued Dunscomb, taking a stocking of
the sort described from Timms, who sat ready to produce the
article at the proper moment.
“If it please the court,” cried Williams, rising in haste, and
preparing eagerly to interrupt the examination.
“Your pardon, sir,” put in Dunscomb, with great self –
command, but very firmly “words must not be put into the
witness’s mouth, nor ideas into her head. She has sworn, may it
please your honour, to a certain stocking; which stocking she
described in her examination in chief; and we now ask her if
this is that stocking. All this is regular, I believe; and I trust we
are not to be interrupted.”
“Go on, sir,” said the judge; “the prosecution will not interrupt the defence. But time is very precious.” “Is this the stocking?” repeated Dunscomb.
The woman examined the stocking, looking inside and out,
turning it over and over, and casting many a curious glance at
the places that had been mended.
“It’s dreadful darney, isn’t it?” she said, looking inquiringly
at the counsellor. “It is as you see, Ma’am. I have made no alteration in it.”
“I declare I believe this is the very stocking.”
“At the proper time, your honour, we shall show that this
is not the stocking, if indeed there ever was such a stocking at
all,” said Timms, rolling up the article in question, and handing it to the clerk to keep.
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THE WAYS OF THE HOUR
“You saw a certain piece of gold, you say,” resumed Dunscomb, “which piece of gold I understand you to say was afterwards found in the pocket of Mary Monson. Will you have the
goodness to say whether the piece of gold which you saw in
Mrs. Goodwin’s possession is among these?”showing a dozen
coins; “or whether one resembling it is here?”
The woman was greatly puzzled. She meant to be honest;
had told no more than was true, with the exception of the little embellishments that her propensity to imagine and talk
rendered almost unavoidable; but, for the life of her, she could
not distinguish the piece of money, or its counterpart. After
examining the coins for several minutes she frankly admitted
her ignorance.
“It is scarcely necessary to continue this cross – examination,” said Dunscomb, looking at his watch. “I shall ask the
court to adjourn, and to adjourn over until morning. We have
reached the hour for lighting candles; but we have agents out
in quest of most important witnesses; and we ask the loss of
this evening as a favour. It can make no great difference as to
the length of the trial; and the jurors will be all the fresher for
a good night’s rest.”
The court acquiesced, and allowed of the adjournment,
giving the jury the usual charge about conversing or making
up their opinions until they had heard the whole testimony; a
charge that both Williams and Timms took very good care to
render of no use in several instances, or as regarded particular
individuals.
A decided impression was made in favour of the prisoner
by Mrs. Pope’s failure to distinguish the piece of money. In her
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
examination in chief she saw no difficulty in recognizing the
single piece then shown to her, and which was the Dutch coin
actually found in Mary Monson’s purse; but, when it was put
among a dozen others resembling it, more or less, she lost all
confidence in herself, and, to a certain point, completely broke
down as a witness. But Dunscomb saw that the battle had not
yet in truth begun. What had passed was merely the skirmishing of light troops, feeling the way for the advance of the heavy
columns and the artillery that were to decide the fortunes of
the day.
434
CHAPTER XXIII
“’T is the wisest way, upon all tender topics, to be silent; for he who takes
upon himself to defend a lady’s reputation, only publishes her favours to the
world.”
Cumberland.
The wing of “Horton’s Inn” that contained the room of
Dunscomb, was of considerable extent, having quite a dozen
rooms in it, though mostly of the diminutive size of an American tavern bed – room. The best apartment in it, one with two
windows, and of some dimensions, was that appropriated to the
counsellor. The doctor and his party had a parlour, with two
bed – rooms; while, between these and the room occupied by
Dunscomb, was that of the troublesome guest the individual
who was said to be insane. Most of the remainder of the wing,
which was much the most quiet and retired portion of the
house, was used for a better class of bed – rooms. There were
two rooms, however, that the providence of Horton and his
wife had set apart for a very different purpose. These were small
parlours, in which the initiated smoked, drank, and played.
Nothing sooner indicates the school in which a man has
been educated, than his modes of seeking amusement. One who
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
has been accustomed to see innocent relaxation innocently indulged, from childhood up, is rarely tempted to abuse those
habits which have never been associated, in his mind, with notions of guilt, and which, in themselves, necessarily imply no
moral delinquency. Among the liberal, cards, dancing, music,
all games of skill and chance that can interest the cultivated,
and drinking, in moderation and of suitable liquors, convey no
ideas of wrong doing. As they have been accustomed to them
from early life, and have seen them practised with decorum
and a due regard to the habits of refined society, there is no
reason for concealment or consciousness. On the other hand,
an exaggerated morality, which has the temerity to enlarge
the circle of sin beyond the bounds for which it can find any
other warranty than its own metaphysical inferences, is very
apt to create a factitious conscience, that almost invariably
takes refuge in that vilest of all delinquency direct hypocrisy.
This, we take it, is the reason that the reaction of ultra godliness so generally leaves its subjects in the mire and sloughs
of deception and degradation. The very same acts assume different characters, in the hands of these two classes of persons;
and that which is perfectly innocent with the first, affording a
pleasant, and in that respect a useful relaxation, becomes low,
vicious, and dangerous with the other, because tainted with
the corrupting and most dangerous practices of deception. The
private wing of Horton’s inn, to which there has been allusion,
furnished an example in point of what we mean, within two
hours of the adjournment of the court.
In the parlour of Mrs. McBrain, late Dunscomb’s Widow
Updyke, as he used to call her, a little table was set in the mid-
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THE WAYS OF THE HOUR
dle of the room, at which Dunscomb himself, the doctor, his
new wife and Sarah were seated, at a game of whist. The door
was not locked, no countenance manifested either a secret
consciousness of wrong, or an overweening desire to transfer
another’s money to its owner’s pocket, although a sober sadness might be said to reign in the party, the consequence of the
interest all took in the progress of the trial.
Within twenty feet of the spot just mentioned, and in the
two little parlours already named, was a very different set collected. It consisted of the rowdies of the bar, perhaps two –
thirds of the reporters in attendance on Mary Monson’s trial,
several suitors, four or five country doctors, who had been summoned as witnesses, and such other equivocal gentry as might
aspire to belong to a set as polished and exclusive as that we
are describing. We will first give a moment’s attention to the
party around the whisttable, in the parlour first described.
“I do not think the prosecution has made out as well,
to – day, all things considered, as it was generally supposed
it would,” observed McBrain. “There is the ace of trumps, Miss
Sarah, and if you can follow it with the king, we shall get the
odd trick.”
“I do not think I shall follow it with anything,” answered
Sarah, throwing down her cards. “It really seems heartless to
be playing whist, with a fellow – creature of our acquaintance
on trial for her life.”
“I have not half liked the game,” said the quiet Mrs. McBrain,
“but Mr. Dunscomb seemed so much bent on a rubber, I scarce
knew how to refuse him.”
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
“Why, true enough, Tom,” put in the doctor, “this is all
your doings, and if there be anything wrong about it, you will
have to bear the blame.”
“Play anything but a trump, Miss Sarah, and we get the
game. You are quite right, Ned” throwing down the pack “the
prosecution has not done as well as I feared they might. That
Mrs. Pope was a witness I dreaded, but her testimony amounts
to very little, in itself; and what she has said, has been pretty
well shaken by her ignorance of the coin.”
“I really begin to hope the unfortunate lady may be innocent,” said the doctor. “Innocent!” exclaimed Sarah “surely,
uncle Ned, you can never have doubted it!”
McBrain and Dunscomb exchanged significant glances,
and the last was about to answer, when raising his eyes, he saw
a strange form glide stealthily into the room, and place itself
in a dark corner. It was a short, sturdy figure of a man, with
all those signs of squalid misery in his countenance and dress
that usually denote mental imbecility. He seemed anxious to
conceal himself, and did succeed in getting more than half of
his person beneath a shawl of Sarah’s, ere he was seen by any
of the party but the counsellor. It at once occurred to the latter that this was the being who had more than once disturbed
him by his noise, and who Mrs. Horton had pretty plainly intimated was out of his mind; though she had maintained a singularly discreet silence for her, touching his history and future
prospects. She believed “he had been brought to court by his
friends, to get some order, or judgmentmay be, his visit had
something to do with the new code, about which ‘Squire Dunscomb said so many hard things.”
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THE WAYS OF THE HOUR
A little scream from Sarah soon apprised all in the room of
the presence of this disgusting – looking object. She snatched
away her shawl, leaving the idiot, or madman, or whatever he
might be, fully exposed to view, and retreated, herself, behind
her uncle’s chair.
“I fancy you have mistaken your room, my friend,” said
Dunscomb, mildly. “This, as you see, is engaged by a cardparty
I take it, you do not play.”
A look of cunning left very little doubt of the nature of
the malady with which this unfortunate being was afflicted.
He made a clutch at the cards, laughed, then drew back, and
began to mutter.
“She won’t let me play,” mumbled the idiot “she never
would.”
Whom do you mean by she?” asked Dunscomb. “Is it any
one in this house Mrs. Horton, for instance?” Another cunning look, with a shake of the head, for an answer in the negative.
“Be you ‘Squire Dunscomb, the great York lawyer?” asked
the stranger, with interest. “Dunscomb is certainly my name
though I have not the pleasure of knowing yours.”
“I haven’t got any name. They may ask me from morning
to night, and I won’t tell. She won’t let me.” “By she, you again
mean Mrs. Horton, I suppose?”
“No I don’t. Mrs. Horton’s a good woman; she gives me victuals and drink.” “Tell us whom you do mean, then.”
“Won’t you tell?”
“Not unless it be improper to keep the secret. Who is this
she? “ “Why, she.”
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
“Ay, but who?”
“Mary Monson. If you’re the great lawyer from York, and
they say you be, you must know all about Mary Monson.”
“This is very extraordinary!” said Dunscomb, regarding
his companion, in surprise. “I do know something about Mary
Monson, but not all about her. Can you tell me anything?”
Here the stranger advanced a little from his corner, listened, as if fearful of being surprised, then laid a finger on his
lip, and made the familiar sound for `hush.’
“Don’t let her hear you; if you do, you may be sorry for it.
She’s a witch!”
“Poor fellow! she seems, in truth, to have bewitched you, as
I dare say she may have done many another man.” “That has
she! I wish you’d tell me what I want to know, if you really be
the great lawyer from York.”
“Put your questions, my friend; I’ll endeavour to answer
them.” “Who set fire to the house? Can you tell me that?”
“That is a secret yet to be discovered do you happen to
know anything about it?” “Do I? I think I do. Ask Mary Monson; she can tell you.”
All this was so strange, that the whole party now gazed at
each other in mute astonishment; McBrain bending his looks
more intently on the stranger, in order to ascertain the true
nature of the mental malady with which he was obviously afflicted. In some respects the disease wore the appearance of
idiocy; then again there were gleams of the countenance that
savoured of absolute madness.
“You are of opinion, then, that Mary Monson knows who
set fire to the house.”
440
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