"The murder," I said, "is one of the worst that can be conceived—cruel and fiendish."
He agreed, but persisted that she was perfectly willing to sacrifice her own life if her husband and son could be saved.
This woman, so full of feeling for her own family, had thought so little of that of others that she had held down the poor servant girl in bed while her son strangled her.
"If," said I, "she were to plead guilty, the great probability is that the jury would believe they were all guilty—very probably they are; and most certainly in that case they would all be hanged." I therefore strongly advised that the woman should stand her trial "with the others," which she did. In the end they all got off! the evidence not being sufficiently clear against any.
It was a strange mingling of evil and good in one breast—of diabolical cruelty and noble self-sacrifice.
I leave others to work out this problem of human nature.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHARLES MATHEWS—A HARVEST FESTIVAL AT THE VILLAGE CHURCH.
The sporting world has no greater claim on my memory than the theatrical or the artistic. I recall them with a vividness that brings back all the enjoyments of long and sincere friendships. For instance, one evening I was in Charles Mathews's dressing-room at the theatre and enjoying a little chat when he was "called."
"Come along," said he; "come along."