As the day had passed on, however, and messenger after messenger brought tidings from the court to each, their feelings had become very different; and they were startled and astounded by the evidence which was produced. It was proved by Hortensia's own servants that Ralph had come to Danvers's New Church during her absence; that he had been found in her park in close communication with a notorious rebel, then actually levying war against the crown, one Thomas Dare; that, very shortly after this, Dare appeared in Taunton, and raised the people of that town in favor of Monmouth, and that he boasted publicly there that he had assurances of Lady Danvers's tenantry joining the duke. This was enough to shake Hortensia's confidence--to agitate--to terrify her. But another messenger had followed soon after, bringing her the news that two of her servants had sworn to the fact of Ralph having had a long private interview with Monmouth in her house during her absence, and that Mr. Drayton himself had sworn to the same. Then she heard that two more of her people had deposed, that, on leaving Ralph at the door of her house, the duke had turned to him, saying, "Remember my commission. I trust to you;" and that Ralph replied, "I will not fail your grace."
Hortensia herself, though she easily conceived the words to be innocent, did not understand to what they could apply; and she evidently saw the chain, which bound the victim, being drawn tighter and tighter around him. Then came the evidence of his having been on the road to Axminster when Monmouth was actually in combat with the royal troops; and then of his having been taken on the very field of Sedgemoor. She knew that many a one had already been condemned upon evidence slighter than this, and her heart failed her. The summing up, too, of the judge, had been brought to her with tolerable accuracy; and she perceived how skillfully he had pieced out the evidence against the unfortunate prisoner, not only indulging in violent abuse of him, but attributing to him much to which none of the witnesses testified.
Ralph's defense had been simple and straight forward. He told the facts just as they had occurred, plainly and straightforwardly. He pointed out that the Duke of Monmouth had come to Danvers's New Church with a considerable body of men, whom he had no power of opposing, even if he had been personally cognizant of then being in rebellion; that the duke had left with him a sealed letter for Lady Danvers, which, he believed, had come from the young Baroness Wentworth, charging him to deliver it as soon as possible, and that the words which had passed between them at the door referred solely to that. At all this Jeffries scoffed in his summing up, declaring it to be a trumped up story which would not deceive an oyster wench, it was clear, he contended--as clear as any thing under the sun, that Ralph had held friendly communication with the rebel and his agents, had agreed to assist him, and had endeavored to induce Lady Danvers to take part in the same criminal proceeding. "Doubtless," he said, "the young knave entrapped her to go into Axminster, for the purpose of entangling her with the insurrection, so that she could not draw back."
"Either her ladyship's good sense or her good fortune," said Jeffries, "kept her out of the scrape; but with that we have nothing to do at present. The case is against this young felon--felon in all senses of the word--guilty, beyond a doubt, of a thousand different crimes."
He then hypocritically declared he left the case entirely in the hands of the jury, though he could not have any doubt as to the verdict they would bring in.
Poor Hortensia--despair took possession of her when these tidings were brought to her solitary room. She did not fail to perceive how the evidence might be made to bear against herself; but she gave that hardly a moment's thought. Her whole mind was fixed upon the fate of Ralph; and, after pondering gloomily for a few minutes, she started up suddenly, saying, "I will go and see her, let the old man behave as he will;" and, calling her maid, she hastened away to the inn, where she now sits with poor Margaret, not exactly alone, for the two maids are there, standing at a little distance, and entering partially into the feelings of those whom they served.
Old Lord Woodhall had gone forth several hours before to the court; for his disappointment at the result of the first charge against Ralph had but stimulated his eagerness, and he could not rest satisfied without watching the progress of events. When once there, the interest increased upon him. He was torn, it is true, by various contending feelings. He could not see the gallant young man, whom he had loved only less than his own children in former years, stand there in the dock, defending his life with calm dignity and firmness, without feeling emotions he strove hard to crush. But when he thought of his own brave, high-spirited boy, and persuaded himself that Ralph's hand had killed him, returning affection was changed again to gall and bitterness. The interest was but the deeper, however, from this contention. He stayed out the examination of all the witnesses--he stayed out the prisoner's defense and the judge's summing up; and now, with the greater part of the auditory, he was lingering still in the court to hear the verdict of the jury, who had retired to deliberate.
The time was one of anxious suspense to all, but to none more terrible than to Margaret and Hortensia. From time to time they would send out a maid to inquire, or one of Lady Danvers's servants would put his head in and say, "No verdict yet, my lady." Hortensia bore it all firmly, and apparently calmly, though her anxious eye and pale cheek belied the tranquillity of her manner. Poor Margaret could hardly bear up at all: often the tears would not be restrained, and the long-protracted suspense kept her only under increasing agony.
At length there was a noise of bustle and confusion in the street and a hasty step was heard running up the stairs. The moment after the door opened quickly, and Mr. Drayton himself appeared. His face was sufficient answer to all inquiries. It was pale, haggard, ghastly and full of deep grief.
"Speak!" cried Hortensia, "speak!"