After the first few words of salutation, Dunscomb took the chair he was invited to occupy, a good deal at a loss how to address a woman of his companion’s mien and general air as a culprit about to be tried for her life. He first attempted words of course.
“I see you have had a proper regard to your comforts in this miserable place,” he remarked.
“Do not call it by so forbidding a name, Mr. Dunscomb,” was the answer, given with a sorrowful, but exceedingly winning smile—“it is my place of refuge.”
“Do you still persist in refusing to tell me against what, Miss Monson?”
“I persist in nothing that ought not to be done, I hope. At another time I may be more communicative. But, if what Mrs. Gott tells me is correct, I need these walls to prevent my being torn to pieces by those she calls the people, outside.”
Dunscomb looked with amazement at the being who quietly made this remark on her own situation. Of beautiful form, with all the signs of a gentle origin and refined education, young, handsome, delicate, nay, dainty of speech and acts, there she sat, indicted for arson and murder, and about to be tried for her life, with the composure of a lady in her drawing-room! The illuminated expression that, at times, rendered her countenance so very remarkable, had now given place to one of sobered sadness; though apprehension did not appear to be in the least predominant.
“The sheriff has instilled into his wife a very healthful respect for those she calls the people—healthful, for one who looks to their voices for his support. This is very American.”
“I suppose it to be much the same everywhere. I have been a good deal abroad, Mr. Dunscomb, and cannot say I perceive any great difference in men.”
“Nor is there any, though circumstances cause different modes of betraying their weaknesses, as well as what there is in them that is good. But the people in this country, Miss Monson, possess a power that, in your case, is not to be despised. As Mrs. Gott would intimate, it may be prudent for you to remember that.”
“Surely you would not have me make an exhibition of myself, Mr. Dunscomb, at the window of a gaol!”