“As far from that as possible. I would have you do nothing that is unbecoming one of your habits and opinions—nothing, in short, that would be improper, as a means of defence, by one accused and tried by the State.[State.] Nevertheless, it is always wiser to make friends than to make enemies.”
Mary Monson lowered her eyes to the carpet, and Dunscomb perceived that her thoughts wandered. They were not on her critical situation. It was indispensably necessary, however, that he should be explicit, and he did not shrink from his duty. Gently, but distinctly, and with a clearness that a far less gifted mind than that of the accused could comprehend, he now opened the subject of the approaching trial. A few words were first ventured on its grave character, and on the vast importance it was in all respects to his client; to which the latter listened attentively, but without the slightest visible alarm. Next, he alluded to the stories that were in circulation, the impression they were producing, and the danger there was that her rights might be affected by these sinister opinions.
“But I am to be tried by a judge and a jury, they tell me,” said Mary Monson, when Dunscomb ceased speaking—“they will come from a distance, and will not be prejudiced against me by all this idle gossip.”
“Judges and jurors are only men, and nothing goes farther with less effort than your ‘idle gossip.’ Nothing is repeated accurately, or it is very rare to find it so; and those who only half comprehend a subject are certain to relate with exaggerations and false colourings.”
“How, then, can the electors discover the real characters of those for whom they are required to vote?” demanded Mary Monson, smiling; “or get just ideas of the measures they are to support or to oppose?”
“Half the time they do neither. It exceeds all our present means, at least, to diffuse sufficient information for that. The consequence is, that appearances and assertions are made to take the place of facts. The mental food of the bulk of this nation is an opinion simulated by the artful to answer their own purposes. But the power of the masses is getting to be very formidable—more formidable in a way never contemplated by those who formed the institutions, than in any way that was foreseen. Among other things, they begin to hold the administration of justice in the hollow of their hands.”
“I am not to be tried by the masses, I trust. If so, my fate would be very hard, I fear, judging from what I hear in my little excursions in the neighbourhood.”
“Excursions, Miss Monson!” repeated the astonished Dunscomb.
“Excursions, sir; I make one for the benefit of air and exercise, every favourable night, at this fine season of the year. Surely you would not have me cooped up here in a gaol, without the relief of a little fresh air?”
“With the knowledge and concurrence of the sheriff, or that of his wife?”