 | Francis Beaumont |  |
Scene II.
—Mrs. Beaumont's parlour. [Mrs. Beaumont and Clara Beaumont.]Mrs. Beaumont.
Clara, there's retribution for the guilty,
E'en in this world. The steward, by whose practice
We were thrust out of our inheritance,
(For that he play'd the rogue I never doubted,)
Destroys the very man he help'd to raise,
And is himself o'ertaken by the law.
These are the judgments of a righteous Heaven.
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The ways of Heaven are far beyond our ken.
We see the good man fall, the wicked prosper;
Yet who will dare deny that God is just?
Mrs. Beaumont.
The wicked only prosper for a time:
Their end will come.
Clara.
But whether it shall come
In the brief issue of a human life,
Or in an age, or in a course of ages,
That is a question which we cannot solve.
Eternal justice stretches thro' all time;
And we, the creatures of an hour, can see
But a small portion of its ministry.
Mrs. Beaumont.
But when we do behold the guilty suffer,
We cannot err in calling it a judgment.
Clara.
Could we be sure, who are the guilty—
[Enter Francis.]
Mrs. Beaumont.
Frank!
How goes the trial?
Francis.
It is not yet over:
The jury have retired, but in a temper
Which makes conviction certain. The suspense
I could not bear, and hasted from the court.
Clara.
Did you give evidence?
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I did; I stated,
In contradiction to the prisoner,
That on the fatal night (as you well know)
I slept at home, and never left the house.
The deed was done past midnight; for the body
Was warm and reeking when the woodmen found it.
Clara.
And were you cross-examined?
Francis.
Ha! you deem
That I was faint of heart and panic-stricken,
As on that dreadful morning. No! I met
The artful hireling lawyer face to face,
And baffled him and all his questionings.
Clara.
A man who tells the honest simple truth
May baffle all the lawyers in the world.
Francis.
Not always, Clara. Strong emotion
Will sometimes overcome the firmest heart.
Do you remember how the sudden news
Of poor Orlando's murder shook my frame,
And made me tremble with a woman's weakness?
I knew not what I said or what I did:
You must remember it.
Clara.
I do remember.
Francis.
I would that I possest your self-command.
Mrs. Beaumont.
What did the steward say in his defence?
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His story—mark how different from the first—
Was this: he saw me strike the deadly blow,
And ran to save his master; closing with me,
Ere he could wrest the dagger from my hand,
He got a wound; I fled, and he pursued,
Till meeting Edwards, who had seen me pass,
He told what had befallen, and then went home.
Clara.
That's different indeed! Your wounding him
He did not mention: taken from the ground
Deep gash'd and bleeding, that he never told.
Francis.
The flaw was glaring; so he patch'd it up,
He or his lawyer; but it serv'd him little:
The judge, in summing up the evidence,
Remarked upon his inconsistency.
The dagger too was shown to be Orlando's;
Of this he never thought.
Clara.
Had he a witness?
Francis.
He call'd Ralph Edwards, and I own I trembled.
Clara.
You trembled? Why?
Francis.
For fear he had suborned
Some villain to outswear me.
Clara.
But he came not?
Francis.
The name was three times call'd, but no one answer'd
I saw the jury smile at one another.
[A knocking. The door is opened. Enter Philip.]
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The verdict, Philip?
Philip.
Guilty.
Mrs. Beaumont.
God be praised!
Clara.
Hush, mother!
(To Philip.)
Tell us how it was.
Philip.
The jury
Withdrew for half-an-hour. When they return'd,
There was a death-like stillness in the court,
And they were called upon to give their verdict.
A moment's pause, and with a steady voice
The foreman said the words “we find him guilty:”
Then rose a murmur as of heaving waves
Thro' the dense crowd—
Mrs. Beaumont.
And Walter?—
Philip.
Clasp'd his hands
In speechless agony. But when the judge
Put on the fatal cap, and solemnly
Pronounced the condemnation of the law,
The prisoner cried aloud “I'm innocent,”
And called on God to witness, till by force
He was removed.
Mrs. Beaumont.
Oh, dreadful! And he still
Persists in saying he is innocent!
Philip.
That is the common way with criminals,
Till they are past all hope. I heard it said,
He ask'd to see you, Francis; and 'tis thought
That he will make a full confession.
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Is the day fixed for execution?
Philip.
A fortnight hence, unless the interval
Should bring him a reprieve.
Francis.
Reprieve! For what?
Is there a chance of that?
Philip.
I cannot think it.
The general voice speaks loudly for the sentence;
Yet there are some men wiser than the rest,
Who shake their heads, and are not satisfied.
Francis.
I'll go without delay, and get permission
To see the prisoner.
Mrs. Beaumont.
Do so, and implore him
To speak the truth, and make his peace with God.
| Francis Beaumont | |