“No, Rhoda, I do not agree with you. And much as I love you, sweet, I would not, if I could, purchase our happiness at such a cost. I would not, if I could, be such a traitor to the South. But I shall always love you, dear heart, and I shall always hope that you will yet be mine.” He held her hand tenderly for a moment in both of his, pressed it to his lips, bowed gravely, and left the room.
CHAPTER XXIII
“It’s going to be a good speech, Horace, and it will surely attract attention,” said Rhoda Ware to her counsel on the day before the opening of her trial.
Hardaker had just gone over with her an outline of the address he would make in summing up her case. It was intended for the people outside the court room, near and far, who would talk about it and read it in the newspapers, quite as much as for the ears of the jurors. So high and strong had risen the feeling on the slavery question that in some parts of Ohio, as well as elsewhere, the lawyer who devoted energy and ability to the defense of captured fugitives and their helpers could be sure of early and ample political reward. Hardaker was ambitious. He meant, as soon as he could reach an opening door, to enter upon a public career and he had mapped out for himself election to Congress, and after that a steady ascent to high places in national affairs—such a career as, half a century ago, engaged the talents and aspirations of ten times as many eager and capable young men as now think it worth consideration. The fact is an ugly one and not creditable to the quality of our national growth.
But for Horace Hardaker in this present case the spurrings of ambition were only an added incentive. His conviction was profound that slavery was an evil and the Fugitive Slave Act a monstrous law and his desire to oppose either or both or anything that tended to strengthen the institution of slavery amounted to a passion. And, in addition to these motives, his intimate friendship with Dr. Ware and his love for Rhoda incited him to exert himself to the utmost in her defense.
“I hope it will, Rhoda,” he replied, “but I’m doubtful if it will do you any good. Your violation of the law was open and flagrant and we don’t want to deny it or attempt to mitigate it in the least.”
“Indeed we don’t.”
“The decision in the case, then, will depend entirely on the political sympathies of the jury, and the other side is not likely to allow any man on it who has anti-slavery convictions. It would be a victory worth while, Rhoda, if I could get you off! Not only for you, which would gratify me enough, but for the anti-slavery cause! To have conviction refused in a case as bare-faced as this would be a big blow toward making the Fugitive Slave law a dead letter!”
“If I could think,” said Rhoda earnestly, “that any act of mine would help to bring that about, I’d be willing to undergo this all over again.”
He looked at her admiringly and drew his chair nearer, as he said: “Well, you can rest assured that your attempt to help Mary Ellen is having important results. And the waves are spreading out and getting bigger, Rhoda!” Another hitch brought his chair still closer.