University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

There are some men who rise by the fall of others. Such a person
was Hamilton Woodhall. The prominent position he had
taken in the late events, made him for the time a conspicuous
individual in the neighborhood. He was resolved, too, that it
should not be his own fault if he sank again into his former insignificance.
After the arrest of Duncan he made himself very busy
deepening the prejudice against him. There was not an inn within
ten miles where he had not held forth to gaping listeners, repeating
with fresh embellishments, each time, the story of his discovery
of the clothes; nor was there a private family in the county
which he could have the least claim or color to call upon,
into which he did not intrude himself to strengthen the impression
against Duncan. His visits to Judge Sumpter's were frequent,
but he had not yet had an opportunity of seeing Isabel, who had
been confined to her chamber, extremely ill, after the excitement
she had gone through. She passed her days in mourning the fate
of Howard, whom in a sort of delirium she addressed as if present,
in the most touching manner; and then suddenly changing her
manner, she would break forth into the wildest invectives against
Duncan as his murderer.

`Yes, yes,' she would shriek at such times, `you did say those
words, and you meditated his murder! But know, that you have
my curse instead of my love!'

Three months elapsed, during which period it was the firm conviction
of all men that Duncan Dudley was the murderer of his brother.
At length the day of his trial drew nigh. Isabel had been
summoned as a witness. She had now so far recovered as to ride
and walk out, leaning upon her father's arm. It was her firm conviction
that Duncan was guilty. But her anger and horror had
gradually softened down to pity and tender interest as she reflected
that it was for her love he had imbrued his hands in blood. But
she felt she could never forgive him; and when once he sent to
her to request her to visit him in his cell, she firmly refused.—
`Let him restore me Howard,' she said with tears.

At length the morning of the trial came. The popular excitement
was intense, and long before the hour of opening the court,
thousands were gathered about the doors. They were at length
thrown open and the multitude filled the house. The Judge took
his seat upon the bench, and the prisoner was brought into court.
His demeanor was calm and dignified. He had resigned himself
to his fate. But conscious of innocence he was upborne by a
strength from within that the guilty never know. His appearance
prepossessed all in his favor. The case was now called, and the
first witness was placed upon the stand. It was Hamilton Woodhall.
His manner was jaunty and defying; and a sinister smile
was visible on his lip. He looked round and assumed a bullying
air to conceal his want of manly confidence. He looked the most
like a criminal. He turned pale when the oath was administered,
and meeting Duncan's clear eye fixed upon him, he looked down.
His testimony varied considerably from what he had formerly given,
for he now omitted his exaggerations and malicious inventions.
He, however, struck to that part in relation to Duncan's
words on the supposition of Howard's death. But on the whole,
his testimony made under oath was so different from what it had
been voluntarily at other times, that the circumstances in every
candid mind were much weakened against Duncan's guilt.

Isabel was then placed upon the witness stand, supported by her
father, who was not the presiding Judge at the trial. She was
calm and collected; but her extreme paleness showed that it was
with the greatest effort she could command herself. Her testimony
put the affair in its true light, and gave a true account of what
transpired between her and Duncan, at their last interview. But
it confirmed the testimony of Woodhall, in the question put to her
by Duncan, involving a supposition of Howard's death. Once,
during the delivery of her testimony her eyes met the tender, reproachful
gaze of Duncan's, and such was the effect upon her that
she would have fallen but for the support afforded her by her father's
arm.

The testimony for the prosecution having been gone through,
Duncan rose to speak in his own defence. His address was manly,
eloquent, and carried conviction of his innocence to every unprejudiced
mind. He spoke affectingly of his love for his brother;
and how for that brother's happiness, when he discovered his attachment
for Miss Sumpter, he had so far from wishing his death,
resolved the next day to take his departure from the country, that
he might be no obstacle in the way of the youthful lovers.

`I made this intention known to my brother, that night when we
were conversing upon the cliff, and it was his warm and positive
remonstrances against it, which the witness chose to represent as
high words of quarrel between us. The absence of my brother is
as great a mystery to me, gentlemen of the Jury, as it is to all of
you. I do not believe that he has been murdered! I believe that
he lives at this moment, though perhaps in a distant land. I know
my brother's generous nature so well, that it is my firm conviction,
that when he discovered my deep and prior attachment to Miss
Sumpter, and my resolve to leave her that I might not interfere
with his, that he anticipated my intention and secretly departed
himself. It will be remembered that there was a fleet in the Roads
which sailed the day he was missing, and he could easily have got
on board of it undiscovered. It is my firm conviction that he did
so. You would ask me to explain then the fact of his clothes
having been found, torn and bloody upon the rocks. This may
have been a ruse of my brother's to put an end to all hope in the
mind of Miss Sumpter. If, as I believe, he swum out to some
vessel, his hat, coat, vest and boots, would have been the garments
he would necessarily leave behind him. You have here at the
bar for inspection, only the three first named articles. But I have
testimony to prove that his boots were found near the same spot;
and the witness is now in court to produce them!' Here Duncan
looked at Judge Sumpter, who on being sworn testified that he had
found the boots with a rock in each at low tide, within a yard of
the spot where the clothes were discovered. He then produced
them to the inspection of the jury.

`Now, gentlemen of the jury, if I had murdered my brother, I
should have had no motive in pulling off his boots afterwards;
neither his coat nor vest. If I had sunk the boots, why did I leave
the clothes in open view upon a rock. It is plain that my brother
disrobed himself and swam to some one of the fleet. I believe the
boots were with the clothes and were sunk by the finder, because
they would not assist his story. I repeat gentlemen, my firm conviction
that my brother is not murdered. It is your duty to prove
the fact of murder, before you can convict me of crime!'

The address of Duncan had an extraordinary effect. The idea
that he might not have been murdered, had not once entered the
head of any man. Now that it had been suggested, it seemed
plausible. No one could help contrasting Duncan's manly and
open language, with the shuffling, shifting testimony of Woodhall;
and popular feelings began to waver.

The Judge now delivered his charge to the jury. It was doubtless
meant to be impartial, but its bearing was rather against the
probability of the prisoner's innocence. His honor had seen in the
course of his judicial experience, too many bad cases seem good
ones, by smooth and ingenious defences; and he was suspicious
even where truth lay at the bottom. The more ingenious and

plausible the defence, the more positive he was of the prisoner's
guilt.

`You must not give undue weight,' he said in conclusion, `to
the fraternal attachment previously existing between them. Circumstances
of a trivial nature, as all of you must have experienced,
often interrupt this. And what cause so potent as that where the
heart is interested and brother becomes a brother's rival! You
have seen that the testimony of the first witness, in that most important
part of it which relates to the language of the prisoner to Miss
Sumpter, when he asked her `if she would be his in case his
brother were dead,' is corroborated by the second witness in almost
the precise words. This testimony is all important. You will not
forget to connect with these words of the prisoner, his interview
with his brother immediately afterwards, during which high word's
were interchanged; and that this conversation is testified as having
taken place near the spot where the bloody garments of the deceased
were found by witness. And the fact that the prisoner was
also the last person seen in the company of the deceased, is also
strong circumstantial evidence in corroboration of his guilt.'

The jury retired and after half an hour's absence, returned into
court, and after resuming their seats in the midst of a profound
silence, Duncan was commanded to rise and hear his sentence.

`Gentlemen of the jury,' said the Judge in a tone of solemn emphasis;
`do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?'

Duncan looked the foreman full in the face as he answered, in a
firm, unhesitating voice,

`Guilty!'

Duncan did not move his eyes from the face of the foreman for
the space of full a minute, during which he regarded him with an
expression of undisguised surprise. He had evidently not anticipated
this. His emotion could not have been ascertained from his
countenance, for it was as pale and moveless as marble. But the
agitated heaving of his chest showed that he was moved greatly
within, from the very foundations of his being. The full extent of
her testimony had not forced itself upon Isabel's mind, until this
terrible announcement fell upon her ear. She had only thought of
Howard, of his dreadful end and her loss! She had not given a
thought of the consequences that were suspended on the assumption
that Duncan was the murderer. The gallows and a public
execution had not entered her mind! Now all rushed upon her!
And the impression, too, filled her mind, since Duncan's defence
that Howard lived! She was overcome by the agony of the conflicting
feelings that flowed in upon her, and shrieking aloud,

`I too am become a murderer!' she fell senseless upon the floor.
She was borne from the court nearly lifeless, followed by the
pitying and loving eyes of Duncan, who but that he was a prisoner,
would have obeyed the impulse of his soul, and flown to her. He
did not know that she had expressed a wish before she was summoned,
to bear testimony against him. But this knowledge could
not have changed his affection; He knew that she believed him
guilty; and sorrow, not anger, filled his bosom.

`Prisoner, stand and receive your sentence,' said the Judge.

Duncan rose and looked upon the Judge with a firm countenance,
and with an air of impressive dignity. But it was plain
that it cost him a strong struggle to seem thus calm. After briefly
touching upon the chief points of the convicting testimony, and
showing in strong colors the heinous character of the crime of
which he had been convicted, the Judge thus concluded:

`Therefore, in atonement to the laws of the land which you
have openly violated by the commission of a great crime, and of
which you have been this day convicted by a jury of your peers,
you are condemned to incur its penalty; which is death! You
will now be taken in custody of the sheriff to the prison whence
you were brought, there to remain until Friday the seventh day
of March ensuing, when you will be led forth to execution between
the hours of ten and twelve in the morning, to be hung by the
neck till you are dead, dead, dead! And may God have mercy on
your soul!'

This sentence was pronounced amid a most profound silence
throughout the court, and was listened to by Duncan with calmness.
The court then adjourned, and the prisoner was reconducted
to his cell.

Left alone, Duncan for a few moments remained wholly over
come by his feelings. But strong in the power of his innocence,
he shock off this weakness, and, walking to and fro in his cell,
began calmly to survey the whole ground of past events, and the
result was his firm conviction that Howard had voluntarily fled,
and was then alive! This conviction strengthened itself in his
mind the more he thought of it, and the reflection, notwithstanding
the dark cloud that hung over his own head, was a source
of joy to him.

`If I die, Howard will hear of my sad fate, and his presence here
will prove to the world my innocence and its own injustice. I shall
not die leaving a felon's memory behind me! My innocence will
be proclaimed as wide as my crime hath flown! If Howard
return, and with Isabel be happy in their mutual love, then shall
my death be welcome. She, at least, will weep over my grave,
and my memory will be blessed.'

It was night, three days after his trial. A carriage suddenly
stopped in front of the prison. In a few minutes after the jailor
ushered into the cell a veiled female. It was Miss Sumpter.

`Duncan,' she said, as the door closed on them, `Duncan,' and
she fell on her knees at his feet. Her sobs prevented her from
articulating more.

`Isabel, this is kind to visit me,' he said, tenderly! `Calm yourself!'
And he raised her from the stone floor.

`I will. I have come to ask you to forgive me!'

`I have nothing to forgive, Isabel!' he replied, in a kind tone.

`I am your murderer! I believed you guilty; and in a feeling
of strange, wild vindictiveness, I cursed you, and desired to bear
evidence against you! But I was mad! I had lost Howard, and
I forgot all else in him! I knew not the consequence! I have
suffered, oh, I have greatly suffered for it. Duncan, I cannot live
unless you say you forgive me!'

`You are not an offender, dear Isabel! I can easily understand
your feelings. Circumstances, too, have been strong against me,
in proof of which I am now under sentence of death. Do you
believe me guilty?'

`No—oh, no!' she said, carnestly. `Forgive me that I have
done so! Oh, say I have your forgiveness!'

`You have, dear Isabel!'

`I am happy then! I know you do not despise me! I have
wronged you from the first, noble Duncan! I ought to have been
true to you in my affection! I ought to have crushed in the outset
all wandering of the heart towards Howard! I was fascinated!
I was weak! I was guilty! But I have your forgiveness!' she
said, with such intense emotion that he trembled for her reason.

`Yes, all and freely. Be calm, I entreat you, Isabel!'

`Duncan,' she said, with startling energy, `I not only do not
believe you guilty (God forgive me that I ever should have cherished
the thought!) but I do not believe, oh joy! I do not believe
that Howard is dead! I believe he lives, and that we shall yet see
him again!'

`This is my own firm conviction,' he said, with solemn earnestness.
`I think he escaped to the fleet!'

`And so do I and also my father, since your defence. He has
already written to the Mediterranean, to the commander of the
squadron, to ascertain if any intelligence of him can be elicited
before the day of—'

Here Miss Sumpter stopped, trembled, hid her face in her hands
and groaned with anguish.

`Let not this distress you! I fear not to die! But I trust my
innocence may be established before it is quite too late!'

`You shall not die! I will throw myself at the feet of the President!
I will implore, I will entreat, I will obtain your pardon!
You must not die!'

`But death were preferable to life, with the stigma of crime
upon my name! No, Isabel! Do nothing further than your father

has done, and thank him from me for his kindness. My father
and mother also believe me innocent, and are persuaded that Howard
lives! This assurance, with the consciousness of my innocence,
supports me in this hour of trial!'

`Oh, that I should have increased the load of your sorrow!'

`Think no more of it! The assurance of your sympathy—'

`Call it not coldly thus, Duncan!' she said, reproachfully. `It
is love! Your danger has told me how truly I love you! I now
see that I have erred in turning from your noble affection to Howard's
bewildering passion! Through all my delight in the idea of
being loved by him, I know my heart was thine still! It is thine
now! It shall be thine forever!'

`But I am a felon condemned to die!' said Duncan, scarcely able
to restrain his heart's deep joy at the return of his wanderer!

`I care not for this,' so I can hear thee say that your heart will
once more be opened to receive me!'

`It will, it will, dear Isabel!' he said clasping her to his breast.
`It has ever been open to thee, ever been true to thee! But, alas!
if Howard lives and comes back, am I not robbing him in taking
thee to my bosom!'

`No, Duncan. If Howard lives, it is that he has voluntarily
departed that he might return me to you! It will make his generous
spirit happier to see me thus lying on your true and manly
breast than to fold me his bride to his own heart! Henceforth if
he be dead, his memory shall be to me as that of a brother; if he
is living he should be to me as a brother dearly loved for his sake
and thy own. Am I forgiven and accepted, dear Duncan? Is the
heart that first throbbed for me beating as in former days, true and
strong with love to me? for mine hath found its resting place.'

Duncan replied only by folding her more closely to his doting
heart.

The day of execution approached, and as the time drew night, the
opinion that Howard Dudley might still be alive, gained ground.
It prevailed among all his friends and even the press advocated it.
The result was that a petition was drawn up and signed by a large
proportion of the citizens of the county praying for his pardon.
It was successful, and the pardon arrived on the very morning of
the execution, while his parents, Judge Sumpter, Isabel and other
friends were present, either to take their last leave of him or conduct
him away in triumph. On its being read, Isabel shrieked
with joy and threw herself into his arms. Duncan received the
announcement with that dignity and self-possession which had
characterised his conduct throughout. He was at once escorted
to the carriage of Judge Sumpter amid the cheers of a numerous
multitude, who had not only imbibed a strong impression of his
innocence, but had assumed at once with the fickleness of popular
prejudices as the alternative the guilt of Hamilton Woodhall! This
impression spread rapidly among the crowd assembled to the execution,
and soon became general.

This individual in achieving the condemnation of Duncan
had effected a purpose that gave him no little satisfaction. He had
avenged himself for the contempt with which Duncan had treated
him, and he triumphed over his fall. But the conviction
of Duncan was but a secondary object to one of primary importance.
He had got him out of the way that he might safely address
Miss Sumpter, whose fortune made her hand a desirable acquisition
to a young man of his broken fortunes. He, therefore,
waited only a day after Duncan's conviction, before he presented
himself at the residence of Judge Sumpter. He was well received,
for his conspicuous part in the late events had thrown him more
familiarly into his society and that of other gentlemen. His efforts
and artifices to obtain an interview with Isabel, safe in her father's
presence, were all in vain. At length his visits became so frequent
and his manner so pointed, that Miss Sumpter could not be
blind to his object. She, therefore, studiously shunned him; for
she never endured him, and the part he had taken in the condemnation
of Duncan, so far from commending him as he hoped, to her
good graces, only roused in her bosom emotions of disgust.

The day before that set for the execution of his victim he called,
and entered the drawing-room unannounced. He surprised her
in tears! She would have fled but he detained her by calling
her by name.

`Sir!' answered Isabel proudly.

`May I ask why you avoided me! I had hoped that I stood better
in your opinion.'

`Sir, I look upon you as little better than Mr. Dudley's murderer,
if he dies,' she said almost fiercely. `Your testimony was
a false representation of facts, and through all I have discovered
a fiendish disposition on your part to destroy him.'

`But I firmly believed that he murdered Howard!'

`It is false! It is my belief, sir, that you stained with blood
and bruised the clothes you found, to effect the end you have
plainly sought to achieve—Mr. Dudley's ruin! It is like your
nature, sir, to do it and I believe it! Else—' here she fixed
upon him a look beneath which his own hardened glance fell,
`you yourself are the murderer!'

With these words Miss Sumpter left him standing alone and
overpowered with surprise and conscious guilt. He remained a
moment in the attitude in which she had left him, and terrible
fears took possession of his bosom. `Can she have seen his note?'
he muttered to himself. `It can't be, for I destroyed it soon afterwards!
Yet how should the woman have guessed so near the
truth! I see I have no chance here after all! She is proud as
Lucifer! If this idea should get abroad I had best take myself
off. The country will be too hot to hold me! Especially if they
should get this pardon. I must be cautious, I see!'

With these reflections he left the house and proceeded homeward,
or rather towards the Stagg Inn, where he lodged.

It was towards this Inn, on the night of the day the pardon was
sent to Duncan, and while he was surrounded in his father's house
by numerous congratulating friends, that a band of gentle looking
young men might have been seen cautiously approaching.
They surrounded the house, and three or four of them entering,
they drew Hamilton Woodhall from a crevice in the garret whether
he had flown for concealment, and dragged him forth into the
road. It was in vain that he plead for mercy. They mounted
him upon a horse and escorted him to the village, where a attribunal
was erected beneath the very gallows on which Duncan was
to have paid the forfeit of his life, for a crime of which he was innocent.
Here before a judge chosen by the young men, and the
populace, Hamilton Woodhall was arraigned to answer, as he was
told, for the murder of Howard Dudley. In a trembling was he
protested his innocence. The opinion had gone abroad that he
had stained the clothes with blood; and he was now called upon
to tell the truth. Here a rope was put about his neck, and he was
adjured to make a clean breast, or suffer death upon the spot.

The result was a full, but trembling confession of the whole
truth, with the use made of the blood of the gull, and the motives
which led him to seek the ruin of Duncan. Every word of the
confession was extorted from him by piece-meal, with the rope
straitened to his neck.

`Now, gentleman, said a young man, who had been a chief examiner
in this well-conducted court of justice, for justice was
at least found here, `what should be the punishment for such flagitious
villany? I had a knowledge of the true facts of the case,
from an account given me from an old deaf negro-slave, who only
yesterday heard of the conviction of Mr. Dudley, and learned the
facts. He then came to my uncle and told me he had shot a gull,
as it proved on the very day of Howard Dudley's disappearance,
when he was out in his fishing boat, and saw its fall upon the
ledge. That he continued fishing awhile and then paddled in
shore to get it, his course leading him under the rocks, a part of
the time out of sight of the spot where the bird lay. He had
emerged near it when he saw a man whom he knew to be Hamilton
Woodhall, with the gull in his hand. He stopped his boat
and watched him from behind the rocks, when he saw him cut
open the bird and sprinkle the blood on some clothes and a hat he

had in his hand. He then saw him throw the bird into a crevice
and hide it with stones.

On hearing this, I went with the old man and found the bird
where he said it had been hid. It was not decayed, and its breast
had plainly been out open: Old Paul's testimony would not be
received in a court of law, we all know; but we reçeive it here in
our court of Justice. Acting on his testimony I suggested this arrest
and examination. You perceive, gentleman, that it is corroberated
by the confession of the culprit himself. Now, what sentence
is commensurate with his crime? He has not murdered
Howard Dudley, I am satisfied; for that gentleman has in all
probability absented himself from the generous self-sacrificing
motive, stated in his brother a defence. Now what is your decision,
gentlemen of the jury, for I address the whole multitude. Is
the prisoner guilty or not guilty?'

`Guilty!' was the simultaneously reply from a thousand voices.

`Mercy! mercy!' cried Woodhall in imploring accents of
agony.

`You showed no mercy! But for the Governor's clemency your
victim would have been dead this day beneath this gallows. Ask
no mercy here, catiff! What shall be his sentence?' demanded
the young man again of the multitude.

`Death! The Gallows!' swolled upon the air in one deep
voice from the stern throng of men.

`Mercy! mercy!' shricked Woodhall, endeavoring to loosen
the noose that was drawn tightly around his neck by the hands of
three men on the other side of the beam.

`Say your prayers, you have but a minute longer to live,' said
the young man determinedly. When the shadow of the moon
touches that nail you swing!'

The wretch glanced a moment at the moon in the skies, shrieked,
clasped his hands, and began to supplicate for mercy of those
around him in the most heart-rending accents of terror.

`The minute 's out! Up with him!' cried the young man in a
strong clear tone.

`Hold!' cried a voice, clearer than his own, in the throng.—
`Will you do murder, my friends! Make me a passage through!'

The rumor of what was going on in the village had reached
Col onel Dudley's and instantly Judge Sumpter ordered his carriage,
saying it must be stopped. The other gentlemen mounted
their horses, and Duncan with them; but his anxiety to prevent
the fearful tragedy gave impetus to his course and he first reached
the ground. The shricks of Woodhall pierced his ears before he
came in sight of the gallows, where a glance showed him the
crisis of things.

At the sound of his voice, the men who were drawing upon
the rope involuntarily suspended operations to learn what it
meant. In the interval of delay he gained the foot of the gallows;
and without more ado, throwing himself from his horse, he with a
knife severed, the fatal rope.

`What madness is this, my friends!' he said, looking around.

`We were but administering justice to this scape-gallows, Duncan,'
said the leader. `We have proved him a conspirator against
your life.'

`It would have grieved me much, if this thing had been done.
I know he is a wretch and has been set on against my life by malice!
But I for give him freely, and think you will all do so, for my
sake! What he has suffered to-night will be a healthy lesson to
him. Nothing more could have been gained by his death. Let
him live; for life; with the scorn that will follow him, will be to
him worse than death, So, my friends, if you wish to punish him,
herein your end will be answered!'

There was at first some murmuring and loud objections, but
these subsided, and soon after he had ceased speaking, the air was
rent with loud acclamutions, in which Duncan's name was repeated
with every note of pupular applause. Three cheers were then
given to him, and after thanking them in a neat speech he turned
to Hamilton Woodhall who had stood, trembling but silent and
self-condemned near, him.

`Now, sir, mount my horse and ride for your life! Take this!
and he forced a purse into his hand.

The terrified man did not wait to be twice bidden, for notwithstanding
the diversion Duncan had worked in his favor, the demonstrations
of hostility among the surrounding crowd were too
palpable and too alarming to be disregarded.

`Mr. Dudlev, I owe you my life!' said Woodhall, as he was
about to leap into the saddle, `It is my belief your brother lives!
In his pocket I found a note which I afterwards destroyed. It was
addressed to you, and stated that it was his intention to swim off
to one of the vessels of war, and leave the country. I believe
that he did so. I have confessed already to these demons here
that I sprinkled the blood —'

Here he could say no more! The groans and cries of the throng
alarmed him for his safety, and leaping into the saddle he galloped
away through the space Duncan had opened amid the crowd.
There was seen the bright flash of one and then another pistol
from the midst of the crowd, none knew whence. The horse suddenly
reared into the air, a wild cry like a yell rung upon every
ear, and Hamilton Woodhall was seen to reel and tumble dead
from his horse!

`He has it now,' said the young man, who had been so conspicuous
as the leader of the lynching party.

`It's a pity; but he has revealed to me an act of villany I did
not suspect! He has his deserts. I knew not how dark a villain
he was! But he had done me a service for which I can forgive
him all the past. My brother lives! He told me Howard left a
note in his vest for me, stating that he was about to swim to a vessel
of war and leave the country. This note he said he destroyed.
Oh, the artful fiend of private malice! But 'tis past. My brother
lives!'

`Here is your horse, Mr. Dudley, said a man leading his startled
horse towards the spot where he stood.

`And Woodhall!'

`He was a dead man before he left the saddle, sir.'