It might have been one minute or ten, that I stood motionless, feeling as if I could have given up life and all its blessings without a pang, to be able to face those men with a clear conscience, and say, “It is all a lie. I am innocent.”
Then, for my salvation, came the thought—it seemed spoken into my ear, the voice half like Dallas's, half like yours—“If God hath forgiven thee, why be afraid of men?” And I said, humbly enough—yet, I trust, without any cringing or abjectness of fear—that I wished, before taking any further step, to hear the whole of the statements current against myself, and how far they were credited by the gentlemen before me.
The accusation, I was informed, stood thus: floating rumours having accumulated into a substantive form—terribly near the truth! that I had, in my youth, either here or abroad, committed some crime which rendered me amenable to the laws of my country; and though, by some trick of law, I had escaped justice, the ban upon me was such, that only by the wandering life which I myself had owned to having led, could I escape the fury of public opinion. The impression against me was now so strong, in the gaol and out of it, that the governor would not engage even by his own authority to preserve mine unless I furnished him with an immediate, explicit denial to this charge. Which, he was pleased to say, if it had not been so widely spread, so mysterious in its origin, and so oddly corroborated by accidental admissions on my part, he should have treated as simply ridiculous.
“And now,” he added, apparently re-assured by the composure with which I had listened, “I have only to ask you to deny it, point-blank, before the board and myself.”
I asked, what must I deny?
“Why, if the accusations were not too ludicrous to express, just state that you are neither forger, burglar, nor body-snatcher; that you never either killed a man (unprofessionally, of course, if we may be excused the joke)—for professional purposes, or shot him irregularly in a duel, or waylaid him with pistols behind a hedge.”
“Am I supposed to have committed all these crimes?”
“Such is the gullibility of the public; you really are,” said the governor, smiling.
On the indignant impulse of the moment, I denied them each and all, upon my honor as a gentleman; until, feeling the old chaplain cordially grip my hand, I was roused into a full consciousness of where and what I was, and what, either by word or implication, I had been asserting.
Somebody said, “Give him air; no wonder he feels it, poor fellow!” And so, after a little, I gathered up my faculties, and saw the board sitting waiting; and the governor with pen and ink before him.