Colonel Ross addressing the jury.
"'Gentlemen,' said he, his eyes flashing, 'I verily think that the good God above in His great wisdom and mercy picked out this jury Himself. I am sure He did. Now, listen to me. It will not take long.
"'We have all had a tedious two weeks of it, haven't we? The weather has been warm; our business neglected; some of us have sick ones at home we are anxious to see; and we are all losing our health and temper in this close confinement. And I by no means omit the dreadful meals at the Darby House. But, gentlemen, rather than come over to you and hang Eph Hardy, I would stay here forever! Not, indeed, that there is any danger of that, for the Judge will discharge us pretty soon if we do not come to terms. But I can at least go to my home with nothing to haunt me the rest of my life. I can at least close my eyes at night without fear of troubled dreams or hours of unrest. And I thank God for it.
"'Now, my friends, while all that we've gone through has been wearing on a fellow, it has not been without interest. You have doubtless heard and gazed in wonder at "the cloud of witnesses" the defense and prosecution have summoned for this case. You have listened open-mouthed to the fine eloquence of the lawyers. You have seen, day after day, the fashionable city folk, who have come down to our little town, troop in and take their seats—and the reporters, and the men with the cameras, and the hungry-looking "poor whites." Now, gentlemen, of course you have seen and heard all this, and of course you have been duly impressed. I have been, I grant you; but of late there has been but one thing in that court-room I could see; but one thing that interested me, and held my attention to the exclusion of all else. I don't suppose you know what I mean. It is this—back, 'way back by the door a little woman has been in torture, such torture as I hope you will never know. I cannot keep my eyes from that shabbily dressed figure; from that white, tear-stained face. Again and again I have seen her veil drawn down, and the poor creature shaking with grief. At first I did not know her, though I guessed. Watkins told me about her. She is the prisoner's mother.
"'When Dillingham was putting in his finishing touches this morning I thought of my mother. She was like that when they brought my brother Archie home. You remember Archie—and the day he was drowned? We were all in swimming that Sunday, you know, and Parson Moore said it was a judgment, but my poor mother could not bring herself to think so.
"'Well, the Hardy woman called to mind mother when they told her about Archie. That same awful, awful look of despair.
"'As I said before, I see the hand of God in the choosing of this jury.' The Colonel eyed us almost exultingly.
"'Boys! Attention!' Mechanically we old soldiers arose and faced about, obeying our Colonel as of yore. The order was electrical, and set us tingling with expectation. Something else was surely coming.
"The Colonel bowed profoundly to an imaginary person at his side.
"'Boys, listen! I accept this flag from your fair hands in behalf of my men and myself. Mere words fail to express our thanks, but in deeds most glorious will we attest our love for you, and the Stars and Stripes!'—or something like that—all very childish and grandiloquent, but we kept our word, didn't we? And again—picture it to yourselves, now—Bob Hardee's barn; your captain in the chair; Private Ryland rises, and offers the following: "Be it Resolved, that Miss Katherine Burke McDermott be, and hereby is, elected an honorary member for life in the Forestburg Rifles, and that we swear to cherish and protect her forever." That was the gist of it, I believe, and there were other resolutions regarding the same young lady, which have unfortunately escaped my memory. But, boys, need I remind you that these resolutions were adopted unanimously? O, let them bind us still! That broken-hearted woman in there was once the little golden-haired lass to whom we were so loyal in the long ago. Shall we not be loyal to-day? It isn't justice, and it isn't law; but, boys, we've got to save that fellow's life—now, haven't we?'
"An hour later we entered the court-room. The woman over by the door looked up with a faint flush on her face. Hope had made it radiant. She knew that 'The Rifles' would never vote to take her boy's life!
"And she was right.
"We acquitted him.
"The verdict was heard in absolute silence. Then there was a slight stir in the rear of the room. Nothing, after all; only—a woman had fainted. It was hot in the court-room that night, and no place for women, anyhow, as Colonel Ross gruffly remarked at the time.
"But there were tears in his eyes."