第141章

Why not on a charge of murder? Robert explained the law to me when I asked that question.I accepted the explanation, but it did not satisfy me.Mary Mallinson was killed by a blow from the hand of Noah Truscott.That is murder in the sight of God.Why not murder in the sight of the law also?

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June 18th.To-morrow is the day appointed for the trial at the Old Bailey.

Before sunset this evening I went to look at Mary's grave.The turf has grown so green since I saw it last, and the flowers are springing up so prettily.A bird was perched dressing his feathers on the low white headstone that bears the inscription of her name and age.I did not go near enough to disturb the little creature.He looked innocent and pretty on the grave, as Mary herself was in her lifetime.When he flew away I went and sat for a little by the headstone, and read the mournful lines on it.Oh, my love! my love! what harm or wrong had you ever done in this world, that you should die at eighteen by a blow from a drunkard's hand?

June 19th.The trial.My experience of what happened at it is limited, like my experience of the examination at the police-office, to the time occupied in giving my own evidence.

They made me say much more than I said before the magistrate.

Between examination and cross-examination, I had to go into almost all the particulars about poor Mary and her funeral that Ihave written i n this journal; the jury listening to every word Ispoke with the most anxious attention.At the end, the judge said a few words to me approving of my conduct, and then there was a clapping of hands among the people in court.I was so agitated and excited that I trembled all over when they let me go out into the air again.

I looked at the prisoner both when I entered the witness-box and when I left it.The lowering brutality of his face was unchanged, but his faculties seemed to be more alive and observant than they were at the police-office.A frightful blue change passed over his face, and he drew his breath so heavily that the gasps were distinctly audible while I mentioned Mary by name and described the mark or the blow on her temple.When they asked me if I knew anything of the prisoner, and I answered that I only knew what Mary herself had told me about his having been her father's ruin, he gave a kind of groan, and struck both his hands heavily on the dock.And when I passed beneath him on my way out of court, he leaned over suddenly, whether to speak to me or to strike me Ican't say, for he was immediately made to stand upright again by the turnkeys on either side of him.While the evidence proceeded (as Robert described it to me), the signs that he was suffering under superstitious terror became more and more apparent; until, at last, just as the lawyer appointed to defend him was rising to speak, he suddenly cried out, in a voice that startled every one, up to the very judge on the bench: "Stop!"There was a pause, and all eyes looked at him.The perspiration was pouring over his face like water, and he made strange, uncouth signs with his hands to the judge opposite."Stop all this!" he cried again; "I've been the ruin of the father and the death of the child.Hang me before I do more harm! Hang me, for God's sake, out of the way!" As soon as the shock produced by this extraordinary interruption had subsided, he was removed, and there followed a long discussion about whether he was of sound mind or not.The matter was left to the jury to decide by their verdict.They found him guilty of the charge of manslaughter, without the excuse of insanity.He was brought up again, and condemned to transportation for life.All he did, on hearing the dreadful sentence, was to reiterate his desperate words: "Hang me before I do more harm! Hang me, for God's sake, out of the way!"June 20th.I made yesterday's entry in sadness of heart, and Ihave not been better in my spirits to-day.It is something to have brought the murderer to the punishment that he deserves.But the knowledge that this most righteous act of retribution is accomplished brings no consolation with it.The law does indeed punish Noah Truscott for his crime, but can it raise up Mary Mallinson from her last resting-place in the churchyard?

While writing of the law, I ought to record that the heartless wretch who allowed Mary to be struck down in his presence without making an attempt to defend her is not likely to escape with perfect impunity.The policeman who looked after him to insure his attendance at the trial discovered that he had committed past offenses, for which the law can make him answer.A summons was executed upon him, and he was taken before the magistrate the moment he left the court after giving his evidence.

I had just written these few lines, and was closing my journal, when there came a knock at the door.I answered it, thinking that Robert had called on his way home to say good-night, and found myself face to face with a strange gentleman, who immediately asked for Anne Rodway.On hearing that I was the person inquired for, he requested five minutes' conversation with me.I showed him into the little empty room at the back of the house, and waited, rather surprised and fluttered, to hear what he had to say.

He was a dark man, with a serious manner, and a short, stern way of speaking I was certain that he was a stranger, and yet there seemed something in his face not unfamiliar to me.He began by taking a newspaper from his pocket, and asking me if I was the person who had given evidence at the trial of Noah Truscott on a charge of manslaughter.I answered immediately that I was.

"I have been for nearly two years in London seeking Mary Mallinson, and always seeking her in vain," he said."The first and only news I have had of her I found in the newspaper report of the trial yesterday."He still spoke calmly, but there was something in the look of his eyes which showed me that he was suffering in spirit.A sudden nervousness overcame me, and I was obliged to sit down.

"You knew Mary Mallinson, sir?" I asked, as quietly as I could.

"I am her brother."