The ways of the hour

by James Fenimore Cooper

Thrill’d to the world’s very core?

Moore’s National Airs.

The third day after the interviews just related, the whole party left Rattletrap for Timbully, where their arrival was expected by the bride and bridegroom, if such terms can be applied to a woman of forty-five and a man of sixty. The Duke’s county circuit and oyer and terminer were about to be held, and it was believed that Mary Monson was to be tried. By this time so lively an interest prevailed among the ladies of the McBrain and Dunscomb connections in behalf of the accused, that they had all come to a determination to be present in court. Curiosity was not so much at the bottom of this movement as womanly kindness and sympathy. There seemed a bitterness of misery in the condition of Mary Monson, that appealed directly to the heart; and that silent but eloquent appeal was answered, as has just been stated, generously and with warmth by the whole party from town. With Anna Updyke the feeling went materially farther than with any of her friends. Strange as it may seem, her interest in John increased that which she felt for his mysterious client; and her feelings became enlisted in the stranger’s behalf, so much the more, in consequence of this triangular sort of passion.

The morning of the day on which the party crossed the country from Rattletrap to Timbully, Timms arrived at the latter place.[place.] He was expected, and was soon after closeted with the senior counsel in the pending and most important cause.

“Does the District Attorney intend to move for the trial?” demanded Dunscomb, the instant the two were alone.

“He tells me he does, sir; and that early in the week, too. It is my opinion we should go for postponement. We are hardly ready, while the State is too much so.”

“I do not comprehend this, Timms. The law-officers of the public would hardly undertake to run down a victim, and she a solitary and unprotected woman!”

“That’s not it. The law-officers of the State don’t care a straw whether Mary Monson is found guilty or is acquitted. That is, they care nothing about it at present. The case may be different when they are warmed up by a trial and opposition. Our danger comes from Jesse Davis, who is a nephew of Peter Goodwin, his next of kin and heir, and who thinks a great deal of money was hoarded by the old people; much more than the stocking ever held or could hold, and who has taken it into his wise head that the prisoner has laid hands on this treasure, and is carrying on her defence with his cash. This has roused him completely, and he has retained two of the sharpest counsel on our circuit, who are beginning to work as if the bargain has been clenched in the hard metal. Williams has given me a great deal of trouble already. I know him; he will not work without pay; but pay him liberally, and he is up to anything.”

“Ay, you are diamond cut diamond, Timms—outsiders in the profession. You understand that I work only in the open court, and will know nothing of this out-door management.”

“We do not mean to let you know anything about it, ’Squire,” returned Timms, drily. “Each man to his own manner of getting along. I ought to tell you, however, it has got out that you are working without a fee, while I am paid in the most liberal manner.”