The ways of the hour

by James Fenimore Cooper

“Acquitted! Our case is not absolutely clear, Miss Monson—it is my duty to tell you as much!”

“I understand such to be the opinion of both Mr. Timms and yourself, sir; I like the candour of your conduct, but am not converted to your way of thinking. I shall be acquitted, gentlemen—yes, honourably, triumphantly acquitted; and I cannot consent to lessen the impression of such a termination to my affair, by putting myself in the way of being even suspected of a collusion with a man like this saucy Williams. It is far better to meet him openly, and to defy him to do his worst. Perhaps some such trial, followed by complete success, will be necessary to my future happiness.”

Anna now pressed nearer to the side of her friend; passing an arm, unconsciously to herself, around her waist. As for Dunscomb, he gazed at the handsome prisoner in a sort of stupefied wonder. The place, the hour, the business of the succeeding day, and all the accessories of the scene, had an effect to increase the confusion of his mind, and, for the moment, to call in question the fidelity of his senses. As he gazed at the prison-like aspect of the gallery, his eye fell on the countenance of Marie Moulin, and rested there in surprise for half a minute. The Swiss maid was looking earnestly at her mistress, with an expression of concern and of care so intense, that it caused the counsellor to search for their cause. For the first time it flashed on his mind that Mary Monson might be a lunatic, and that the defence so often set up in capital cases as to weary the common mind, might be rendered justly available in this particular instance. The whole conduct of this serving-woman had been so singular; the deportment of Mary Monson herself was so much out of the ordinary rules; and the adhesion of Anna Updyke, a girl of singular prudence of conduct, notwithstanding her disposition to enthusiasm, so marked, that the inference was far from unnatural. Nevertheless, Mary Monson had never looked more calm, more intellectual; never manifested more of a mien of high intelligence, than at that very instant. The singular illumination of the countenance to which we have had occasion already to allude, was conspicuous, but it was benignant and quiet; and the flush of the cheeks added lustre to her eyes. Then the sentiments expressed were just and noble, free from the cunning and mendacity of a maniac; and such as any man might be proud to have the wife of his bosom entertain. All these considerations quickly chased the rising distrust from Dunscomb’s mind, and his thoughts reverted to the business that had brought him there.

“You are the best judge, ma’am, of what will most contribute to your happiness,” rejoined the counsellor, after a brief pause. “In the ignorance in which we are kept of the past, I might well add, the only judge; though it is possible that your female companions know more, in this respect, than your legal advisers. It is proper I should say, once more, and probably for the last time, that your case will be greatly prejudiced unless you enable us to dwell on your past life freely and truly.”

“I am accused of murdering an unoffending female and her husband; of setting fire to the dwelling, and of robbing them of their gold. These are accusations that can properly be answered only by a complete acquittal, after a solemn investigation. No half-way measures will do. I must be found not guilty, or a blot rests on my character for life. My position is singular—I had almost said cruel—in some respects owing to my own wilfulness——”

Here Anna Updyke pressed closer to her friend’s side, as if she would defend her against these self-accusations; while Marie Moulin dropped her needle, and listened with the liveliest curiosity.

“In many respects, perhaps,” continued Mary, after a short pause, “and I must take the consequences. Wilfulness has ever been my greatest enemy. It has been fed by perfect independence and too much money. I doubt if it be good for woman to be thus tried. We were created for dependence, Mr. Dunscomb; dependence on our fathers, on our brothers, and perhaps on our husbands”—here there was another pause; and the cheeks of the fair speaker flushed, while her eyes became brilliant to light.[light.]

“Perhaps!” repeated the counsellor, with solemn emphasis.

“I know that men think differently from us on this subject——”

“From us—do you desire me to believe that most women wish to be independent of their husbands? Ask the young woman at your side, if that be her feeling of the duties of her sex.”